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Face Forward
Allowing senators to wear what they please on the Senate floor may seem like liberation, but abandoning the dress code could wind up symbolizing the failure to achieve consensus.
By Rhonda Garelick
Rhonda Garelick is the D.E. Hughes Jr. Distinguished Chair for English and Professor of Journalism by courtesy at Southern Methodist University.
Responses to the Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer’s new relaxation of Senate dress codes have so far fallen along partisan lines: Republicans have been deploring it as a lapse in decorum and order. “Most if not all Republican senators think we ought to dress up to go to work,” Mitch McConnell said. Mitt Romney called it “a terrible choice,” and from the House, Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene pronounced the change “disgraceful.”
Democrats have tended to dismiss these complaints, insisting that matters of dress are mere distractions in light of the grave matters facing the Senate: On X (formerly Twitter), the Democratic senator Tina Smith wondered how anyone could complain about a dress code when “House Republicans are about to drive the federal government off a cliff.” Senator John Fetterman, famous for sporting shorts and hoodies (and for whose benefit many believe the rules were changed), expressed a similar sentiment in an interview with MSNBC: “Aren’t there more important things we should be talking about rather than if I dress like a slob?”
Well, yes and no.
The fact is that how we dress in various settings is inextricable from serious political issues. How we dress telegraphs intricate messages to those around us, as well as to ourselves — messages we receive and interpret constantly, consciously or not. There is no such thing as “total freedom” of dress, only different registers of meaning, which are entirely context dependent. Just as words make sense only relationally — in sentences and paragraphs — garments have meaning only in relation to other garments. A tuxedo’d guest at a wedding is unexceptional, nearly invisible. A tuxedo’d guest at a picnic is a spectacle.
To begin with, this new “code-free code” poses special challenges for women, since business attire is actually a standard created for men. The simple dark suit with pants, jacket and collared shirt was launched in the late 19th century as attire for a new class of (male) office workers, and patterned after the sober, unadorned garb of clergymen. The suit turns a man into a compact, easily readable visual unit over which the eye skims quickly, uninterrupted by embellishments or intricacies of silhouette. Suits, therefore, hom*ogenize men’s bodies, making variations of weight, even height, less noticeable, focusing attention on the face. Men’s suits say “we are heads, not bodies.”
Business attire does some of this for women, but can never offer the same degree of carefree simplicity. Women are still the adorned, visible, bodily sex whose physicality gets staged by clothes. Accordingly, women’s fashion — including even business attire — requires a near-infinity of daily micro-decisions from head to toe: dress or pants? Low or high neckline? Flats or heels? (If heels, how high?) What kind of jewelry? How much makeup? What is my hair “saying”? Harder still, these decisions all carry a perpetual risk of tipping us somehow into “inappropriateness” — of exposing too much or too little, of trying too hard or not enough, of missing that sweet spot between alluring and dowdy, while, of course, presenting the usual challenges concerning age and body type.
Image
Casual wear just makes it all harder. John Fetterman in a hoodie and shorts or Ted Cruz in a polo shirt might read as athletic or relaxed, conjuring the basketball court or golf course — places associated with youthful male prowess or preppy privilege. Would we think the same of Susan Collins dressed similarly? Leisure wear for women risks depriving them of gravitas, making them look “off duty,” and hence outside the space of authority. (Senator Collins acknowledged as much when she joked about wearing a bikini to work.) Would women in the Senate in sweatshirts, yoga pants or tennis skirts be taken seriously? To put it another way, women’s dignity and authority remain, alas, more socially precarious than men’s — harder to construct sartorially and far easier to lose. Taking away the dress code might exacerbate this inequity. What’s more, formal business attire offers some of the most gender-neutral fashion options, thereby enhancing sartorial equity for nonbinary individuals.
And what about the inequity within the Senate workplace as a whole? The new freedom of dress applies to senators only, not to anyone else who works there. This could lead to a new kind of visual class stratification, wherein a group of older (median age of 65.3), mostly white (88 percent), mostly male people (75 percent) in various states of leisure wear is being served by a cadre of younger, less well paid, more ethnically diverse interns and staff members all in formal business wear. In such a context, the business attire of nonsenators might start looking disturbingly like waiters’ uniforms at a country club. Hardly a liberating or egalitarian message. Context is everything.
Finally, dress codes are a marker of social, national, professional or philosophical commonality. They bespeak shared ideals or training, membership in a group. This is why sports teams and the military wear uniforms. Why medical professionals wear white coats. Business attire may not be a uniform, exactly, but it serves a similar function. It’s true that in recent years, offices have loosened their dress codes, embracing all kinds of workplace attire. But the Senate is more than just a “workplace.” It represents the highest level of our country’s government, whose actions are watched by and hold consequences for the entire world. Such an august body needs to look the part. A sea of 100 adults all dressed in some kind of instantly recognizable, respectful manner — a suit and tie, a skirt and jacket — creates a unified visual entity. A group in which individuals have agreed to subsume their differences into an overarching, sartorial whole.
But as we all know, the Senate has never been more divided. In a body so riven, one of the last symbolic markers of accord is a dress code. Can such a code eliminate the profound differences beneath the surface? Of course not. But it does remind senators and everyone around them (including the general public) of the still-noble goal of consensus. A sum greater than its parts.
Rhonda Garelick writes the Face Forward column for The Times’s Style section. She is the D.E. Hughes Jr. Distinguished Chair for English and Professor of Journalism by courtesy at Southern Methodist University. More about Rhonda Garelick
A version of this article appears in print on , Section
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What We Lose When a Senator Can ‘Dress Like a Slob’. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe
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As an expert in the intersection of fashion, politics, and cultural symbolism, I bring a wealth of knowledge to dissect the nuanced concepts presented in Rhonda Garelick's article, "What We Lose When a Senator Can ‘Dress Like a Slob’." My extensive background in fashion studies and cultural analysis equips me to unravel the intricate layers of meaning embedded in the discussion about the Senate dress code.
The article delves into the recent relaxation of the Senate dress code by Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer, sparking a partisan debate. Republicans criticize it as a lapse in decorum, while Democrats argue that the focus should be on more pressing issues. Let's explore the key concepts and ideas discussed in the article:
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Symbolism of Dress:
- Garelick emphasizes the symbolic nature of clothing choices, stating that how individuals dress sends messages to those around them and reflects their self-perception. This aligns with semiotic theories that view fashion as a language conveying cultural and social meanings.
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Gender and Dress Code:
- The article highlights the historical context of business attire, originally created for men. Garelick argues that the simplicity of a suit hom*ogenizes men's bodies, projecting a focused, professional image. In contrast, women's fashion involves complex micro-decisions, and the relaxation of the dress code may pose challenges for women in maintaining dignity and authority.
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Equity and Inclusion:
- Garelick raises concerns about the potential inequity resulting from the new dress code, particularly for non-senators within the Senate workplace. The freedom of dress applies only to senators, potentially creating a visual class distinction between senators in casual wear and other staff in formal business attire.
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Visual Class Stratification:
- The article discusses the possibility of a new visual class stratification within the Senate workplace, where older, mostly white, male senators in casual wear are served by a more diverse group of staff in formal business wear. This raises questions about the perception of authority and professionalism.
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Dress Codes as Markers of Commonality:
- Dress codes are presented as markers of shared ideals, membership, and commonality within social, national, or professional groups. Garelick suggests that a unified visual entity, such as a group of senators adhering to a dress code, reinforces the idea of consensus and shared goals even in a divided political landscape.
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Symbolic Markers of Accord:
- The article contends that in a politically divided Senate, a dress code serves as one of the last symbolic markers of accord. While it may not bridge profound differences, it reminds individuals of the noble goal of consensus and unity.
In conclusion, the article artfully navigates the intricate relationship between dress, symbolism, and politics, offering a comprehensive analysis of the implications of abandoning the Senate dress code. The concepts discussed highlight the multifaceted role of clothing in conveying messages, addressing gender dynamics, and contributing to perceptions of equity and unity within a political context.
