30 Jul No one ever talks about Mitt Romney’s package
In case you haven’t guessed, I am really not that important of a person except maybe to a handful of people who know me well enough to know all the secrets I do not talk about in this blog.
As a nobody, I still find myself reticent at times to say what I really think.Â I hold back sometimes.Â I am mute when I should have a megaphone blaring all the ways our world has a lot to learn.
Let me muster some courage and say to you, the article below is just plain wrong.Â What is wrong with people?Â No one would ever make comments about the subtle bump in Obama’s pants when he wears jeans.
A friend of mine asked me recently what I am doing to help women see that there is no glass ceiling.Â Whatever.Â People want to believe we are one nice little melting pot with audible “i’d like to teach the world to sing” music wafting out as the goo boils. Â This article is offensive and wrong.Â Just wrong.
It reminds me of when Janet Reilly and Fiona Ma raced for an Assembly seat in Sacramento.Â M&R, the political column in the Chronicle, did an article about the race not being between these two women – it was in fact about the men behind them:Â Burton and Reilly.
What am I doing to help women see there is no glass ceiling? Â Â I’m spitting on it- as it doesn’t matter how much you windex that ceiling.. a little spit makes it at least visible.Â Â Sometimes ya have to be a little unsanitary to get folks to pay attention.
Hillary Clinton’s Tentative Dip into New Neckling Territory
Â By Robin Givhan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, July 20, 2007; C01
There was cleavage on display Wednesday afternoon on C-SPAN2. It belonged to Sen. Hillary Clinton.
She was talking on the Senate floor about the burdensome cost of higher education. She was wearing a rose-colored blazer over a black top. The neckline sat low on her chest and had a subtle V-shape. The cleavage registered after only a quick glance. No scrunch-faced scrutiny was necessary. There wasn’t an unseemly amount of cleavage showing, but there it was. Undeniable.
It was startling to see that small acknowledgment of sexuality and femininity peeking out of the conservative — aesthetically speaking — environment of Congress. After all, it wasn’t until the early ’90s that women were even allowed to wear pants on the Senate floor. It was even more surprising to note that it was coming from Clinton, someone who has been so publicly ambivalent about style, image and the burdens of both.
The last time Clinton wore anything that was remotely sexy in a public setting surely must have been more than a decade ago, during Bill Clinton‘s first term in office when she was photographed wearing a black Donna Karan gown that revealed her shoulders. It was one of Karan’s “cold-shoulder” dresses, inspired, Karan once noted, because a woman’s shoulders remain sensuous and appealing regardless of her age.
Throughout Clinton’s time as first lady, she wore clothes that were feminine and stately. But sexiness was not part of the image. Her second inaugural gown was by Oscar de la Renta. The original version of the gold lace dress had cap sleeves and a wide, jewel neckline. Clinton altered it so that it had long sleeves and a high, almost Victorian collar.
When she appeared on the cover of the December 1998 issue of Vogue, just after the Monica Lewinsky scandal had peaked, she wore another de la Renta gown, this one with a boat neck and long sleeves. She looked glamorous, regal and defiant. But one was not even tempted to mention the s-word.
By the time Clinton launched her first campaign for the Senate, she had found a desexualized uniform: a black pantsuit. Not a fitted, provocative suit, but merely an understated, flattering one. Clothes were off the table. End of discussion.
But as she has embarked on her campaign for president, she has given up the uniform. In its place has been a wide array of suits and jackets, in everything from dull khaki to canary yellow and sofa florals. Once again, she is playing the fashion field.
The cleavage, however, is an exceptional kind of flourish. After all, it’s not a matter of what she’s wearing but rather what’s being revealed. It’s tempting to say that the cleavage stirs the same kind of discomfort that might be churned up after spotting Rudy Giuliani with his shirt unbuttoned just a smidge too far. No one wants to see that. But really, it was more like catching a man with his fly unzipped. Just look away!
Not so long ago, Jacqui Smith, the new British home secretary, spoke before the House of Commons showing far more cleavage than Clinton. If Clinton’s was a teasing display, then Smith’s was a full-fledged come-on. But somehow it wasn’t as unnerving. Perhaps that’s because Smith’s cleavage seemed to be presented so forthrightly. Smith’s fitted jacket and her dramatic necklace combined to draw the eye directly to her bosom. There they were . . . all part of a bold, confident style package.
With Clinton, there was the sense that you were catching a surreptitious glimpse at something private. You were intruding — being a voyeur. Showing cleavage is a request to be engaged in a particular way. It doesn’t necessarily mean that a woman is asking to be objectified, but it does suggest a certain confidence and physical ease. It means that a woman is content being perceived as a sexual person in addition to being seen as someone who is intelligent, authoritative, witty and whatever else might define her personality. It also means that she feels that all those other characteristics are so apparent and undeniable, that they will not be overshadowed.
To display cleavage in a setting that does not involve cocktails and hors d’oeuvres is a provocation. It requires that a woman be utterly at ease in her skin, coolly confident about her appearance, unflinching about her sense of style. Any hint of ambivalence makes everyone uncomfortable. And in matters of style, Clinton is as noncommittal as ever.