Cover-Up

I saw a TV segment on one of the morning shows about what constitutes appropriate dress for the office, a subject I believe is overdue for discussion. Somehow over the past dozen years or so, boobs have ruled, and necklines have been dropping. Cleavage is everywhere (and those who don't have it are getting it, courtesy of plastic surgeons). I would expect to see a little skin at the beach, but I don't expect to see it at the bowling alley, at the mall, or in church.

I always thought that cleavage was something seen either strictly at evening events (many years ago a picture of actor Zero Mostel looking down the dress of a 40-ish pre-mastectomy Shirley Temple Black was widely publicized, and it's doubtful that either Mrs. Mostel and Mr. Black was amused) or one of those unreal TV things (you know, like designer wardrobes on characters who are supposed to be working class, or convenient coat hooks instead of the standard coat closet). Only on TV, I said to myself, would a female attorney waltz into court with a blouse that (pardon the pun) crossed the line. I think it's ridiculous to give impressionable teenage girls the idea that professional women show their tits.

Then along came Hillary Clinton, addressing the Senate with a blouse under her suit cut down to . . . well, Washington, DC. This is a woman who wants to be President. Is she trying to win over potential voters by making what she feels is an impressive physical appearance (she sure as hell won't do it with those piano legs). But why does she feel this is even necessary? She can emphasize her femininity for those who suspect she's a barracuda in more subtle ways. (You don't see Condoleeza Rice spilling out of her blouse.)

Just as we cover our mouths when we cough, I think we should keep our chests covered. Save the cleavage for the beach or for the Oscars.