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massive impact
At the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington, members of the city's diplomatic
community gathered inside the historic hotel's glass-walled loft, with its
postcard views of the White House, for a conversation about fashion. About
clothes and their place on the world stage.
The program, hosted by the State Department and Elle magazine, included a
panel discussion that featured designer Derek Lam. When the conversation came
around to first lady Michelle Obama - because how could it not? - Lam dropped
his head in a mournful manner and lamented: Her departure from the East Wing
signaled the end of a singular era for American fashion.
During her tenure, Obama energized designers, editors and stylists with her
fashion-forward wardrobe choices. She made industry insiders stand taller both
at home and abroad. She's been an exemplar of modern, fit and confident middle
age. She instilled pride and kinship among countless black women.
And she has been the most high-profile cheerleader for the sleeveless sheath
as the 21st-century power uniform. "It's been accepted everywhere," says
designer Maria Pinto, who created many of Obama's 2008 campaign dresses,
including the purple sheath she wore when she fist-bumped the presumptive
Democratic nominee. "You don't have to be in a suit. There's other ways to get
that power look."
Lam is among the many Seventh Avenue designers whose clothes have been part
of the first lady's public wardrobe and whose life story has been fundamental to
her version of fashion diplomacy. Obama wore Lam's block-printed dress for her
arrival in Beijing in March 2014. The black dress, with a geometric pattern in
ivory and taupe, was contemporary in its design, sophisticated and sleek. But
there was more: Lam, who grew up in San Francisco, is of Chinese descent. In
wearing his design, Obama quietly noted that in addition to trade agreements and
intellectual property concerns, there is a very real, human connection between
the United States and China.
For the Obamas' first state dinner, in honor of India, she wore a white
strapless gown by the Indian American designer Naeem Khan. In 2011, she donned
an array of British brands - Preen, Roksanda - for a visit to London. But for
the grand occasion of a state dinner at Buckingham Palace, Obama wore a regal
white gown and long white gloves by an American designer, Tom Ford - but one
with deep business roots in London, where he also maintains a home.
She wore a flowing violet gown by Japan-born designer Tadashi Shoji, whose
business is based in Los Angeles, to a state dinner in honor of Japan, a dress
by Korean American designer Doo-Ri Chung for the South Korea state dinner and a
student-designed frock to a White House education workshop on careers in the
fashion industry. Her fashion choices served as a grace note to the moment.
Her clothes were unexpected: a cardigan to meet Queen Elizabeth II. They
spoke of Hollywood glamour: a Vera Wang mermaid gown at the China state dinner.
They evoked Everywoman: hiking shorts at the Grand Canyon. The pictures are
captivating. But are they the totality of her fashion legacy?
When Obama leaves the White House in January, what precisely will she leave
behind besides multiple covers of Vogue and an impressive array of evening gowns
destined for a presidential library?
Obama was good for fashion
Mostly because she got people talking about it. But look closely and see that
the bright light she shone on fashion also revealed the challenges of a business
that traffics in glamour and fantasy. Her midmarket wardrobe choices sparked
sales. But her attentions could not save those same brands from the financial
pressures of a recession or overexpansion.
She underscored how most fashion companies are entrepreneurial endeavors, not
big publicly traded corporations; they are the very definition of small
businesses. She thrust once little-known brands - Jason Wu, Brandon Maxwell,
Azede Jean-Pierre, Narciso Rodriguez, Maria Cornejo, Pinto - into the spotlight,
giving them priceless publicity and a leg up in expanding their business. But
press notices cannot form the foundation of a company.
She helped young people see that fashion is more than catwalk extravaganzas
and Project Runway. In October 2014, she brought fashion designers to the White
House as part of her education initiative Reach Higher.
And she connected fashion to the broader popular culture.
"Fashion is really about passion and creativity, just like music or dance or
poetry," Obama said during her welcome to students. "For so many people across
the country, it is a calling; it is a career. It's the way they feed their
families."
A good portion of the population has always been stubbornly committed to the
idea that clothes don't matter and to give them more than a moment's
consideration is evidence of superficiality, snobbishness or weak character. But
dressing with consideration and care is part of the social contract. It is part
of what makes a civil society.
Clothes are part of the ritual of weddings, funerals, coming-of-age
celebrations, faith-based rites of passage. Our choice of attire is a measure of
our respect for those around us and our own personal dignity. And in the largely
symbolic role of first lady, Obama turned fashion into an especially eloquent
form of communication.
She made people anticipate fashion, notice it, parse it and wonder about the
folks who made it. The conversation mainly focused on aesthetics and authorship.
Fashion in the Obama administration was not a source of scandal or ethics
investigations, as it was during the Reagan era when the first lady was taken to
task for borrowing and not returning designer fare. Obama was buying her
clothes, not the taxpayers. Her first inaugural gown, the white one with its
single strap and romantic embroidery, is displayed at the National Museum of
American History. Other gowns were stored at the National Archives until they
were recently shipped to Chicago along with boxes of other Obama administration
artifacts.
In countless state appearances, Michelle Obama highlighted the absolute best
that Seventh Avenue had to offer, in the same way that one might expect the
White House to offer the non plus ultra of American culinary skill at a state
dinner, or present the most accomplished musicians at a concert.
Every now and then - mostly when asked - she spoke about her personal
appreciation and affection for the American fashion industry. She joked about
her devotion to Spanx, for example, or noted her love of glamour. Just recently,
in Harper's Bazaar, she expressed thanks to her longtime stylist, Meredith Koop.
Still, as first lady she has not been especially forthcoming in discussing
fashion. Her office declined a request for an interview on the subject.
Fashion is, perhaps, no longer a "third rail" topic for any woman who wants
to be taken seriously, but it still isn't broached with the same enthusiastic
patriotism as, say, baseball or a March Madness bracket.
Even for a style-conscious first lady, her relationship to fashion is
complicated.
Obama did not rely on a single designer as a de facto personal dressmaker, as
had been the case with her most recent predecessors. Nancy Reagan favored the
late James Galanos; Barbara Bush was a fan of Arnold Scaasi, and both Laura Bush
and Hillary Clinton came to rely on Oscar de la Renta. Obama had no such
loyalties.
When she first stepped onto the national stage, Obama, a Chicago native,
relied heavily on the simple, sleeveless sheaths of hometown designer Maria
Pinto. And once in the White House, certain designers became staples in her
wardrobe - Khan, Rodriguez, Wu, Michael Kors, Tracy Reese. But she pulled from a
wide range of collections - some of them quite esoteric, such as Thom Browne.
Her fashion vocabulary was deep and rich.
The result was a wardrobe that spoke eloquently about an entire industry. No
one brand defined her style. In that way, it was both uniquely her own and
broadly American.
The country's interest in Obama's clothes began during the 2008 presidential
campaign. The fascination increased once she became first lady, in part because
she didn't dress like the stereotypical Washington matron in boxy suits, nude
pantyhose and sensible pumps. Her favorite accessory was a wide, embellished
Azzedine Alaia belt that emphasized her hourglass figure. She did not wear
pantyhose. She wore over-the-knee suede boots. She stood out, not because she
was setting trends or even leading the charge in embracing those offered up by
the fashion industry. She simply looked engaged with fashion. Her clothes were
part of the fashion conversation. She looked modern.
The mainstream media, bloggers and Twitter celebrated her clothes, and as
with any celebrity christened a style icon, Obama had the ability to spark a
shopping frenzy. Women copied Mamie Eisenhower's bangs and Jackie Kennedy's
bouffant, but companies such as J. Crew, the Gap and White House Black Market
benefited from the culture's Obama obsession. One researcher tracked Obama's
ability to create consumer demand and estimated the "Obama Effect" was worth $38
million to a company.
