“She didn’t react to a single nurse who walked through that door. Until one woman came in wearing a floral top.”
On the day of my daughter’s surgery, I sat in that hospital room trying to keep my own nerves quiet while watching everything unfold. Nurse after nurse came in, all kind, all professional, all dressed in matching navy and gray. My daughter, who can be shy at times, barely looked up. She didn’t find much comfort in them.
Then one woman walked in. She wasn’t in the standard scrubs. She had on a floral top, bright and personal and full of life, over her scrub pants. My daughter smiled. She made eye contact. She talked.
I’ve been thinking about that moment ever since. What was the difference? The personality behind the scrubs? Yes, but every nurse who came in was warm and kind. The only visible difference was what she was wearing.
That experience crystallized something I’ve believed for years but never had the words for: color in healthcare isn’t a luxury. It’s a bridge.
A Brief History of the Nurse’s Uniform (And Why It Got So Sterile)
To understand where we are, it helps to know where we came from.
In the 1800s, Florence Nightingale introduced the idea of a standardized nursing uniform, a practical response to chaos. During the Crimean War, she oversaw a military hospital where hygiene standards were nearly nonexistent. The uniform wasn’t about aesthetics; it was about control, cleanliness, and communicating trustworthiness at a glance. White became the symbol of both sterility and professionalism, and that association stuck hard.
For the next century, nurses wore white dresses, white caps, and white shoes. The uniform was the profession. To deviate from it was seen as unprofessional, even disrespectful to the role.
In the 1970s and 80s, scrubs entered the mainstream. Originally designed for surgical teams who needed something easy to sanitize, they quickly spread through the rest of the hospital. They were more practical, more comfortable, and a lot cheaper to replace. But hospitals didn’t use the shift to give nurses more freedom. Instead, they doubled down on uniformity, now using color to communicate department and rank. Navy for ICU. Gray for labor and delivery. Wine red for administration.
The freedom that scrubs could have created? It largely never came.
What I Learned Starting Out in the Medical Field
I got my start in healthcare through a program at my high school’s Skill Center, an accelerated program that could have you working as a medical assistant before you ever walked across a graduation stage. I knew I wanted to be in healthcare. I just didn’t know what it would ask of me to get there.
My instructor was meticulous. Hair pulled back, no earrings, shirt tucked in, the right kind of sneakers, and you had better have your watch on, because you were losing points if you forgot it. She’d make surprise checks. I’d watch students get written up for a pair of small hoops they’d absentmindedly left in that morning. It wasn’t cruel; it was the culture. That’s simply how the medical field was presented to us: clean, contained, neutral.
I followed the rules. I learned the work. And then over time, I noticed something.
When I started wearing color, starting with turquoise scrubs at Lansing Community College, then bright Crocs on the nursing floor and badge reels with actual personality, something shifted. Residents who didn’t know my name started remembering me. “You’re the one with the colorful Crocs.” “I recognize you, you always wear those fun colors.” I wasn’t just a uniform to them anymore. I was a person.
I existed in a way I hadn’t before.
The Case for Color: What the Research Says
This isn’t just personal intuition. There’s a growing body of research around color psychology in healthcare settings, and it points in a clear direction.
Research on color psychology in healthcare environments has consistently found that warm, varied colors are linked to lower reported patient anxiety and a greater sense of connection with care providers. Cold, uniform color environments can heighten clinical detachment, even when the care itself is excellent. The specific effect of staff uniform color on patient comfort is less studied, but observation in clinical settings points in the same direction: what a caregiver is wearing sends a signal before they ever say a word.
For pediatric patients in particular, children who may already be scared, in pain, and overwhelmed, a familiar visual cue, something bright and human, can make the difference between cooperation and shutdown. My daughter’s surgery was a small, clear example of something child life specialists have known for years: how a person looks communicates safety before they ever say a word.
Staff morale is another piece of the puzzle. Healthcare worker burnout is at a crisis level. Even in Michigan, where hospitals outperform most of the country on nurse retention, the RN turnover rate still sits at 14.1%. Nationally, it runs at 16.4%, with some specialty units reaching as high as 24%. When employees have zero autonomy over their appearance, it contributes to the broader experience of not being seen as full human beings at work. And burned-out nurses are not just a staffing problem. They are a patient safety problem.
Workplace Autonomy and Color: A Small Change With Big Impact
I’m not suggesting hospitals should throw out all structure. I understand the reasons behind color-coding. I understand infection control protocols. I understand that consistency matters in a clinical environment.
But I am suggesting that there is more room than most hospital systems currently allow for nurses and healthcare workers to express who they are through what they wear. A bright badge reel. A colorful set of scrubs on certain days. A floral top on a pediatric floor.
These aren’t disruptions to patient care. In many cases, they enhance it.
Giving nurses even small amounts of expressive freedom sends a message: we see you as a person, not just a function. That recognition matters not just to the nurses, but to every patient they care for.
This is exactly what Kaze was built around. Not just cute scrubs and badge reels (and we do love those), but the deeper idea that the people who show up every day to care for others deserve to feel like themselves while doing it.
This Nurses Week, Let’s Celebrate Differently
National Nurses Week runs May 6–12, 2026, and it’s the perfect moment to do more than drop a “thank you for your service” post and move on. It’s a time to ask a real question:
Are we creating environments where nurses can actually thrive? Or are we just maintaining the systems that have always been there?
If you know a nurse, celebrate them by seeing them fully, their whole personality and not just their role. If you’re a healthcare administrator or decision-maker, consider what small changes in policy might signal to your staff that their humanity is valued.
And if you’re a nurse or healthcare worker reading this: you deserve to be seen. You deserve to exist in the room, not just function in it. Your color, your style, your personality. Those things are not unprofessional. They are part of the care.
Celebrate Your Shift in Color
Kaze designs badge reels and scrubs for healthcare workers who refuse to blend in.
Shop the collection at kazekollection.com
Use code NURSESWEEK at checkout, valid May 6 through 12 only.
About the Author
Amber J is the founder of Kaze, a brand built for healthcare workers who want their personality to show up to work with them. She’s a Lansing, MI-based entrepreneur, Etsy Star Seller, and a lifelong advocate for personality in professional spaces. Follow her journey at kazekollection.com and @kazekollection on social media.
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