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Nov
11
As I prepared to attend my first writer’s conference in February 2003, I worried about everything. Would my non-Mac laptop stick out? Did I know enough industry lingo to engage in as well as understand conversations? And what should I wear?
My mother, a successful businesswoman, had only one suggestion: tone down the color of my hair. That critique, although typical of communications between mothers and daughters, was met with my similarly typical response: I don’t think so.
Yet, when I heard this story on NPR by Lynn Neary about a Washinton Post piece centered on soon to be Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, the frustrations of figuring out how to present myself arose in me again.
Thankfully, after reading the article, I felt comfortable nodding my head in agreement. For when I combine that analysis with the information I’ve read about Pelosi, and the images I’ve seen of her, I have to confess, she’s done good. I could see myself not only modeling but recommending how she presents herself.
Pelosi’s suit was by Giorgio Armani — the Italian master of neutral tones and modern power dressing — and she wore it well. She looked polished and tasteful in front of the cameras. It is tempting to even go so far as to say that she looked chic, which in the world beyond Washington would be considered a compliment, but in the context of politics is an observation fraught with insinuations of partisanship and condescension.
(The appearance of the current speaker, Rep. Dennis Hastert, will go unmentioned here except to say that there is nothing chic or particularly polished about it.)
Reading the symbolism in that Armani label — and it’s reasonable to do so because designer brands are supposed to communicate an image — it speaks of a specific approach to authority and clout. There are many ways for a woman to dress in a professional manner, from Ellen Tracy and St. John to Chanel and Akris. Putting on an Armani suit sends a message as pointed as if a man chooses shirts from Turnbull & Asser instead of Arrow. That man is not trying to be flashy, but he is intimately aware of the value of a winning appearance, both in the way in which others respond to it and also in the way in which it makes him feel. He isn’t simply trying to be appropriate: He is aiming for dapper. He aspires to give off a brighter sheen than his colleagues. There is a bit of quiet one-upmanship in the choice.
Armani stands as a kind of professional armor. It is protective but soft. Tailored but with a drape. It is the style of business dress that in the 1980s famously feminized menswear and brought masculine confidence to women’s wear. An Armani suit, for a woman, is a tool for playing with the boys without pretending to be one.
Among those who spend any amount of time flipping through fashion magazines, Pelosi, 66, would not stand out as a style icon. In fact, in a recent “60 Minutes” interview, Pelosi’s husband, Paul, admitted that he shops for her clothes because she doesn’t especially enjoy afternoons at the mall.
Still, in the context of Washington, Pelosi cuts a distinctive figure. She gives the impression that she cares about the way she looks, but gives no indication that she obsesses about it. Such pride is an admirable quality and one that most parents attempt to instill in their children, admonishing them to sit up straight, polish their shoes, or smooth their hair for the class picture.
Pelosi’s attire suggests that she understands that appearance matters in politics. And while that might not be fair, that is part of the cost of participating. It’s right up there with eating pork chops on a stick, kissing babies and pretending to care about the Iowa butter cow.
Who can argue with any of that? Sure, as Neary said, it’s kind of a shame that we fisk Pelosi’s threads, as well as so many other women in the public eye, more than we poke leaders like Hastert in the gut and say, “Man, you’re killing yourself there.” But think about it – look at that man. If nothing else, his appearance absolutely speaks to how he’s behaved, or at least is perceived to have behaved.
I have the chore (because, like Pelosi, I’m not fond of going to malls and shopping for myself) today of finding something suitable to where to this black tie event. I’ve left the chore to the last minute because I don’t want to spend inordinate amounts of time on looking. I know more or less what looks good on me, where I can go to find options that will fit and not spend a bar mitzvah wad. But, as I look, I will definitely keep this in mind:
…what does a woman of great power look like? Does she choose her own version of camouflage and, as Hillary Rodham Clinton famously did during her first campaign for the Senate, wear a black pantsuit as a personal uniform? Does she wear stiffly tailored suits and a lapel festooned with patriotic brooches in the manner of former secretary of state Madeleine Albright? Or, like current Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, does she mix professorial reserve with a hint of confident sex appeal?
Pelosi had to decide how a woman who will be second in line of succession to the presidency should look. And what she came up with is someone who wears a neutral-colored, softly tailored power suit. One that is accessorized with style rather than rote references to love of country. She looks dignified and serious. And in this case, she also happens to look quite good.
We could do worse.
By Jill Miller Zimon at 9:22 am November 11th, 2006 in Politics
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Armani has always been a favorite designer of mine. It seems the best ones always come from Italy!