On fashion

There are women who know, care about professional sports. That I am not one of them is immaterial; while sports are a dangerous category for me in board games, so, often, is pop culture and TV. But I'm going to ask you to suspend your aversion to stereotypes (particularly that of men being more versed in sports language) for the sake of appreciating what Robin Givhan is saying here, because it's really interesting:

In the same way that some men use sports as a metaphor for another man's character, some women use fashion as a way of understanding another woman's sense of self. After all, if it's possible to extract deep meaning from questions like "Does he hog the ball?" then surely it's reasonable to dissect the difference between a woman who carries a Kelly bag and one who chooses a monogram bag from Louis Vuitton. Fashion serves as an insider's language that, to the uninitiated, can be as mystifying and aggravating as some of the political patois that passes for conversation in Washington. Was Rogers engaging in what one magazine editor described as "an arrogance of style" -- using her clothes for competitive one-upmanship rather than to exude personal creativity, self-confidence or self-respect?

Or could a city of wonks and political animals simply not grasp what Rogers was saying?

In federal Washington, after all, a modest Armani suit still can get one a best-dressed award. For that crowd, taking the measure of Rogers, a special assistant to the president, dressed in Prada and Jil Sander, would have been a bit like someone trying to make sense of an NFL team's strategy diagram based on their knowledge of Foosball.

Rogers pushed hard against the federal city's cultural stereotypes. And in her person, she became an emblem of a particular kind of change that was afoot. Fashion does not need to be something that fades into the background or that is worn with great trepidation. It doesn't negate the impressiveness of a résumé; it merely means that one is fluent in another cultural language.

We were just having a conversation about work about dress: it needn't be fashionable, but it need be respectful--act like you care. I'm not sure how different Washington is in terms of workplace fashion: when is it ever good to stand out and look really expensive?

But it's true: fashion aside, style is a language. For a year or so, my style said, 'I just bought a house and clothes shopping is the last thing on my mind.' I'm very happy to have emerged from that (especially as it coincided with what I found to be unfortunate offerings in the stores). There's something to be said for acting, dressing like you care.