Examining the costume choices I make when I dress for my job at an art gallery, I’m reminded of artists who use fashion both as material and content.

The author in YSL by Stefano Pilati

Louise Bourgeois, for example, believes that clothes “are like signposts in the search for the past”. During a life that spans almost a century she has accumulated a veritable archive of 20th-century fashion moments, which appear as potent reminders in her sculptures.

In the subsequent generation, the American artist Andrea Zittel launched “The A-Z Uniform Series”, which was based on the idea of a favourite garment evolved over the years with attention to subtle shifts in material and manufacture. I like to think that she was inspired by the improbable style of art-world legend Ileana Sonnabend, with her no-brand tent dresses in myriad muted shades that receded into the background like camouflage while the art took centre stage. By contrast, the photographer Cindy Sherman has embraced the fullness of feminine masquerade for more than 30 years, fuelling a rich career as well as enjoying the latest trends off-camera.

These mavericks suggest a space for dressing beyond the art-world clichés of Miyake pleats and basic black, or the leagues of high-heeled galleristas who now dominate the current scene. Considering how these clichés form, I’m reminded of a shoot I once did for a fashion magazine profile during my time as curator of the Whitney Biennial in the late 1990s. To prepare, the sittings editor asked me what I usually wore and I provided a list, from funky Marni prints to Margiela deconstructions. Despite this information, the stylist’s racks arrived full of well-cut, well-meaning pantsuits and high-heeled strappy sandals, with the excuse that my requests were reserved only for “editorial” use rather than real-life stories.

After an hour or so trying on the sittings editor’s suggestions, and becoming more and more disillusioned with my makeover, I insisted on wearing the black trousers I had brought to the session with a borrowed black T-shirt, preferring the most basic utilitarian outfit to a misrepresentation of myself.

Since that time, dressing up has become a daily enterprise in a professional context where aesthetics are both a necessity and a pleasure. I look for strong, elegant clothes that suit a busy lifestyle, a little of what Stefano Pilati does for YSL, which comprise the perfect cosmopolitan wardrobe. Then there’s Givenchy, Marni, Balenciaga, Watanabe, Alaia, and the odd vintage accessory. The mix matters.

Louise Neri is the director of the Gagosian Gallery