Last week Gok Wan, the TV fashion guru, set out to challenge conventional notions of what is “beautiful” in his new show Miss Naked Beauty by taking 200 women to an empty swimming pool, making them remove their clothes and then forcing them to take a shower. Never mind the unfortunate Auschwitz parallels; Gok, didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't take off waterproof mascara with cold water? The aim was to show them literally stripped bare, unadorned, their natural beauty at the fore. Despite the tears - and some harsh reaction by TV critics - Gok remains adamant that by removing contestants' make-up, the show will help to fight the idea of beauty fascism because “beauty is owned by an industry that dictates what we define as good-looking”.

It seems that Gok isn't the only one who is embracing the natural look. This week it was reported that the French news anchor Laurence Ferrari had been told to “tone down” the glamour in favour of a more sober image. And the 43-year-old Republican vice-presidential contender, Sarah Palin, previously criticised for her penchant for designer wear, recently introduced US voters to the “frugal Palin”; jeans and second-hand jackets.

Our high street shops tell the same story; in vogue are leggings and skinny jeans, with vintageT-shirts and big cardigans, and the recent collections from Alexander McQueen and Alexander Wang bring to mind the “grunge” years of the early Nineties, which happened to coincide with the last recession.

After our years in the financial sun, during which we queued for the latest designer handbags, do we no longer feel the need to dress to impress? Sue Murphy, the head of features at Channel 4, said that she commissioned the programme in an attempt to “reintroduce feminism to her younger viewers”, though Shere Hite, I might add, didn't take her lipstick off for anyone. Nor do I. In fact, I probably haven't been outside the front door without, at least eyeliner, since I was about 11. But in the interests of research, and to prove to myself that I am not as neurotic as the contestants on Miss Naked Beauty, I have volunteered to spend 24 hours without any make-up on. I tell myself it's really no big deal. I'm not even that interested in make-up. I've had the same beauty routine since I was a teenager: black eyeliner, kohl, and Mac Glam lipstick. And at some point during my thirties I started using Benefit tinted moisturiser with built-in SPF 15 which I top up with foundation and Touche Éclat if I am going “out-out”, as opposed to popping round to the newsagents. I never change the way I do my make-up. Embarrassingly, I never even take it off. But even though I never go out without it, I am optimistic that it won't make a blind bit of difference to how I feel about myself, or how other people react to me.

Make-up is seen as a form of protection

The morning passes uneventfully and most of the women I see on the bus, or on Oxford Street, don't seem to be wearing make-up either. When I catch sight of myself in the mirrored lift at the BBC I realise that I look a bit rough - luckily I am doing only radio - but apart from that, I don't really think about it again. It is only when Gill the photographer from The Times turns up and shoves her giant lens practically up my nose that I begin to feel stressed and self-conscious. The closer she comes to me, the closer I come to punching her lights out.

Later, I telephone the clinical psychologist Dr Cecilia d'Felice. She is very sympathetic. “Women wear make-up because it makes them look and feel more attractive and there is something very masochistic about forcibly stripping that away and not allowing yourself some protection. It's human nature.”

I totally agree. I've left my make-up bag at home in the interests of the experiment, but a quick trip to Boots and five minutes in front of a mirror puts a smile on my face again.

I lasted all of three hours without my “face” on, and it cost me fifty quid to feel normal again. Rather than liberated, I felt robbed of the right to make the most of myself and I suddenly understood why the Miss Naked Beauty contestants felt so vulnerable. To be honest, I feel disappointed in myself. Why can't I love my unadorned face? To compound my sense of failure, when I speak to psychologist Oliver James, he tells me that the credit crunch will make me think twice about the amount I spend on unnecessary cosmetics. He believes that the recession will challenge women such as me to distinguish between real “need” and the artificial “want”. Two years ago, James travelled around the world trying to work out why consumerism has coincided with escalating levels of depression and anxiety. One of the conclusions he drew in his book Affluenza (Vermilion) was that “bombarding small girls with aspirational images of fashion and beauty from a very early age has created a generation of English speaking women who look in the mirror and ask themselves two questions. First, will the person I see in the mirror make other women envious? And secondly, will the person I see in the mirror be attractive to other men?” Apparently, Russian or Danish women look in the mirror and ask “does the reflection satisfy my own standards of beauty?” but presumably that's because they look like the Bond girl Olga Kurylenko or the supermodel Helena Christensen.

According to James, the root of the problem is the fact that the US spends four times more on advertising and marketing fashion and beauty products than Continental Europe, and the UK spends twice as much. Not for long. A tighter economy is forcing the fashion and beauty industries to change. Almost overnight, the culture of excess that led to women taking out bank loans to pay for hand bags and boob jobs seems like a nauseating lack of judgment.

It is vital that your look fits the times

Two weeks ago, news that Palin's campaign wardrobe, make-up and hair had cost $150,000 in September alone, put paid to her home-grown hockey mom image. This week Palin tried to claw back some credibility by ditching the Valentino, pulling on her old blue jeans and letting her beehive down, but the headlines had done the damage. Palin's spokesperson issued a statement, saying: “With all of the important issues facing the country right now, it's remarkable that we're spending time talking about pantsuits and blouses.”

But if clothes aren't important, why spend $150,000 dollars on them? The answer of course, is that they are important. Image is everything and, as Palin and Ferrari have found out, it's vital that your look fits the times. So, get ready for the new make-under-barely-there make-up and longer skirts. In the 1920s the US economist, George Taylor, coined the “hemline” theory of economics. He argued that in boom times, women's skirts were shorter because they could afford to show off their expensive silk stockings, while in bad times, skirts were longer, to hide shabby hosiery. And maybe this recession will imbue what we wear with meaning again.

All our clothes have said about us recently is how much money we were foolish enough to spend on them and as Dr d'Felice points out, “in a society where there is going to be a big difference between the haves, and the have nots, the haves won't feel comfortable about flashing their wealth in the face of those who are struggling”.

That the way women look and dress responds rapidly to changing economic circumstances makes a lot of sense. Women are the front line of the household budget. They ensure that important needs such as school shoes are prioritised and right now, they know that it is time to dye, and sew, and repair and avoid ostentation. Make-up and the smaller feel-goods are fine, necessary even, but colour choices are changing (see box) and “It” bags, and big labels are out. In fashion terms, collective empathy is a powerful look.

Fashion and recession by Nadia Ghani

Roaring 20s As the economy boomed hemlines rose. Flapper dresses were all the rage and the time was one of plenty.

1929 The Wall Street Crash and Great Depression send hemlines plunging. Modest attire was standard for women everywhere.

1960s It's the Sixties and things are swinging again. The micro miniskirt became the defining fashion symbol of the era.

1970s Once again recession took hold and the midi and the maxi eclipsed the high hem trend.

1980s As things got flush, skirts followed suit: the RaRa and the Puffball were the styles du jour.

Early 1990s Times were grim and fashion got grungy as the country slipped into a downturn after Black Wednesday.

2008 Another recession looms and you've guessed it, length and dressing down are back in vogue.

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