Dressed For Success

[January 17th, 2007] Before the November 2006 election, the Democratic Party was ailing. Out of power in the U.S. House for more than a decade, out of the White House since 2000 and impotent in an otherwise blue Oregon, Dems looked like they'd been dragged through a pile of mud. Literally.

We know the story: The party rallied nationally to win total power in Congress and in the Oregon Legislature. But it took the first day last week of the 2007 state Legislature to see how good things looked for recovering Ds.

Some doctors say the first sign of a female patient's recovery is a request for lipstick. In their opinion, getting all dolled up equals hope for the future and a renewed sense of health and self. With that theory in mind, as Oregon's 74th legislative session began, one could say the new majority party was feeling good, sporting smart threads that evoked the celebratory, almost giddy feeling of a fresh start mixed with an in-charge confidence.

Republicans were more of a mixed bag.

As Oregon's Democratic matriarch, former Gov. Barbara Roberts led by example. Roberts dressed for a party, holding court in a beautiful gold brocade suit fastened with a bejeweled belt buckle, accessorized with on-trend metallic gold shoes. It was the ultimate power suit for the Dem doyenne: Forsaking the traditional neutrals of cream, tan, navy and black, Roberts sported a dignified yet dazzling shot of color made for sophistication and celebration. Her choice of clothing reflected the figurative mama bursting with pride.

In the House, new Speaker Jeff Merkley had the ease of a natural leader, looking slim, trim and handsome. The Portland Democrat exuded an innate sense of style, looking casually debonair in a tailored charcoal-gray suit. Although his outfit accented his salt-and-pepper hair, Merkley made the choice look coincidental—a feat, given that over-styled public figures usually reek of desperation. Not here. Merkley was wearing pure confidence.

Freshman Democratic reps Tina Kotek of Portland and Tobias Read of Beaverton represented like...well, like freshmen. At Hogwarts. Kotek, sporting chunky black glasses, was all business in a light gray pantsuit over a pink button-down shirt. Read was clean-scrubbed and looking preppy, rocking a yellow-and-red-striped tie set off by a navy suit and light-blue shirt. Both appeared ready to battle muggles, monsters and Republicans alike.

Now-former Speaker Karen Minnis ' outfit was exhaustion personified: No longer queen of her own party, Minnis (R-Wood Village) looked matronly in a navy blue oversized suit over a scoopneck red sweater. As for Minority leader Wayne Scott, the Canby Republican wore a uniform of navy suit, red tie and white shirt. The apparel was like defeat—or perhaps camouflage for a later attack by the famously junkyard-dog-acting legislator?

In the Senate, sporting a fresh bob and bangs, Majority Leader Kate Brown (D-Portland) came this close to getting it right. With a Hitchcock-chic two-piece day dress, standup scoop collar and a sassy tie embellishment, Kate was Jackie Kennedy all over again (albeit on a smaller scale). In this case, Brown has the style and the position of power—not that she used it effectively last session. The shape of the outfit was youthful idealism, while the color—navy—was a dash of serious reality. All too real, however, was the size; Brown was swimming in fabric, which detracted from her intention of femininity steeped in strength. It was unflattering—a fantastic tailor would bring home that statement of quiet strength.

In contrast, Senate Republican leader Ted Ferrioli appeared ready to represent the red districts, although he's a native Portlander who's emigrated to Eastern Oregon. Tan and healthy, Ferrioli was suited up sharper than a Mafioso in a charcoal-gray suit and dark-blue shirt. According to his closet, the continued Democratic leadership in the Senate doesn't scare Ferrioli. But his neckwear told a different story: a maroon iridescent tie reminiscent of

an early-'90s prom tux. That detail took his image from powerful to plebeian in one fell swoop. Ferrioli, where's your stugots?

Gov. Ted Kulongoski huddled with his cohorts in his office. We saw a relieved-looking and confident Kulongoski mingling, chatting, grinning and posing for photo ops. Although he was visibly happy, this governor needs a happy stylist to match his fellow Democrats. At 5-foot-8, he's slightly challenged in the height department, and the nearly invisible no-rim glasses could use an update that says "21st century"—all easily fixable mini-issues. But he's not without a statement. On his big day, Kulongoski's ensemble was more no-nonsense navy than high-fashion celebratory. But his tie was the piÈce de résistance. In the spirit of HermÈs, Kulongoski's royal blue neckpiece was decorated with tiny little seals of the state of Oregon. Touché, Teddy. Even better, the tie is available at the Capitol gift shop for $16.

OK, OK, it's a novelty tie. Kulongoski still needs a stylist. We give him props for trying. But if the governor made an effort to dress for power, maybe he'd make headway in overcoming his wimpy do-nothing image.

Which raises the question: When does public image really matter? Is it only when the candidate is trying to win a race? After all, fashion is fleeting. Or does it matter just as much when the election is won?

Maybe neither. We're not talking fashion so much as looking smart, looking put-together—looking alive, for chrissakes. The choice of clothing, accessories and even hairstyles can insinuate that a public figure is either bored or stimulated and invested enough to get the job done. Look at Gordon Gekko in Wall Street: With slicked-back hair, suspenders and French cuffs, Gekko was the devil, money and the Reagan administration personified. There was nothing—nothing—that would get in Gordon's way when it came to work. After the race is won, we don't want you to give up and start wearing sweats like George Costanza. We want who we hired, and we want you to look the part.