A Dog in a Robe Still Sniffs Ass

What you wear tells the world what you want us to see.

A former president indicted and going to multiple trials. A new era of climate weirdness that seems to be a countdown for human extinction. Another potential government shutdown. Southern states defying the SCOTUS in redistricting their voting blocs to minimize the impact of black voters. Libraries in Chicago receiving bomb threats. Tik Tok Teens self diagnosing themselves with real and imagined ailments. An industry-leveling strike in Hollywood.

So what are our leaders focusing on just lately? The economy? A.I.? The pernicious infiltration of a massive communist country into our communication systems?

Nope. They’re arguing about a Senate dress code.

Sen. John Fetterman (D-Pa.) — who often has worn more casual clothes since returning to the Senate this spring after being treated for depression — presided over the Senate in a short-sleeve shirt on Wednesday.

• That appearance offended some old-school Senate stalwarts in both parties and fueled some behind-the-scenes grumbling among Schumer and Fetterman's fellow Democrats, according to several senators and aides.

• Those private misgivings burst into public Thursday when Majority Whip Dick Durbin (D-Ill.) said, "We need to have standards when it comes to what we're wearing on the floor of the Senate."

• "And we're in the process of discussing that right now as to what those standards will be," Durbin said on SiriusXM's POTUS channel.

I’m not sure why Fetterman’s cargo shorts are connected to his being treated for depression—I suppose it’s a subtle way of inferring that guys wearing cargo shorts and short-sleeve shirts to work must be depressed—but the whole thing seems a bit… small given the weight of the issues our leaders are facing. Maybe they’re just tired of talking past one another and playing to the cameras? I’d argue that the inclusion of folks like Santos, Boebert, and MTG are far more distracting and unprofessional than if Fetterman showed up in a speed-o and orange crocks, sporting a taxidermic squirrel on his head like an oddball Davey Crocket cosplay. I mean, Boebert was well dressed when she was caught giving her date a handjob at a public showing of Beetlejuice the Musical.

Back in the early part of the 21st century, I found myself working for the Chicago NPR affiliate. The place was like a library. Everyone dressed in a business casual sort of way and, given my automatic need to stand apart from the norm, I adopted a uniform of sorts. Or a costume. Whatever you call it, it was a very specific, Henry Rollins kind of thing. Jeans. Boots. Black t-shirt. Tattoos. One of these things is not like the other, right?

In Vegas, at the Wild Wild West Gambling Hall, everyone wore jeans and polo shirts so I wore a dress shirt with a tie and bought some vests. That was my uniform.

Back in the waning days of the previous century, when I was just coming to Chicago, living in a Bronco, and busking on the street, I discovered that I made more money playing my trumpet on a street corner if I wore a collared shirt than if I wore a sweatshirt.

We all wear costumes. Some to blend in and disappear, others to stand out and make a statement. Go to any country music concert and whether it’s freezing cold or not, the women and girls are in short skirts and boots. Go to any symphony concert and there are a lot of ties on the men. A heavy metal concert is going to corner the market on bad haircuts, fishnet stockings, and black eyeliner. Look around. You can easily see who is dressing for you to ignore them and who is dressing to be seen like every day is a bizarre Halloween parade.

Funny that, no matter the costume one wears, it hurts no one.

Fetterman in a suit and tie? Are you kidding me? The cat looks like a bouncer in a titty bar. Putting that guy in a suit is like dressing up your pug—it’s cute but sends maybe the wrong message (unless you dress your pug like the badass punk rock dude he thinks he is when the UPS guy comes to the door).