Upon watching the whole pomp-and-propaganda drama of the Republican convention, I couldn’t help but wonder: Why do all politicians’ wives dress alike?
Are they forced to attend political fashion bootcamp, where they are force-fed button earrings, hairspray, pearls and lunching-ladies suits?
Check out Liddy Dole, who, for her speech, did the Oprah thing, working the crowd, pressing flesh and telling folks why she can’t help loving that man of hers. There she was, sporting helmet hair, subdued makeup, gold button earrings, matching necklace, beige pumps, beige hose and an innocuous, collarless suit in don’t-worry-be-happy canary yellow. (She’s got the same suit in lucky lavender, too.)
And then there’s Nancy Reagan, with her still-adoring gaze, collarless suit, pearl necklace and matching button earrings. Joanne Kemp fares a little better, with her almost-tousled shortcut. Still, even she couldn’t resist the ubiquitous button earrings and matching necklace.
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Female politicians like Susan Molinari offer us a variation on the theme: a Geraldine Ferraro bob–and button earrings.
But something happens to perfectly normal-looking women along the campaign trail–regardless of their political persuasion. Their faces lose any hint or personality over the years, taking on that only-her-plastic-surgeon-knows-for-sure patina. Their smiles appear painted on. So does their hair.
Oh sure, there’s a stab at variety. Tipper’s hair is big and long; Liddy’s hair is big and short; Nancy’s hair is big and shellacked; Barbara’s hair is big and white.
And as for Hillary, well, let’s just say that her hair expands exponentially with the amount of time that her husband remains in office.
Now, I’m not saying that they should all try to be like Jackie and deck themselves in the latest in designer fare. Nor is it fair that they are scrutinized for their looks more than their husbands are.
What bugs me is that behind all this studied plainness is the worst sort of cynicism, the belief that all it takes is a plastic smile and plastic jewelry to win votes. A belief that a woman’s role is to stand by her husband’s side, smiling and waving and blending into the scenery.
I’d love to see the day when the Hillarys and the Liddys of the world break out in Comme des Garons duds and a crew cut. Just to shake things up a bit.
Of course, that’s not going to happen. Not as long as there’s some Machiavellian spin doctor behind the scenes, coaching the next Hillary with this advice: “More hairspray! More hairspray! Lose the diamond studs! Forget about Donna Karan! Think Target!”