There’s a time and place for basketball shorts — it’s not the U.S. Senate floor | Opinion
As I write this, House Republicans are fighting over the budget, flooding has killed tens of thousands in Libya, and Morocco is still digging out of a devastating earthquake. Oh, and we recorded the hottest August ever, after also breaking roasting records in July and June. It’s truly a scary time to be keeping up with the news.
Yet, I’m mesmerized by another event that, on the surface, may appear inconsequential to some, but that I think tells a lot about a deeply divided society barreling haphazardly into the future. I’m referring to the change in the U.S. Senate dress code. Until last week I didn’t even know it was a thing.
A few days ago Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer announced that the legislative body’s sergeant-at-arms would no longer enforce a longstanding dress code. Now mind you, this code is not formally written down anywhere, but it is one of those rules that members have abided by to smooth out the inner workings of the chamber and garner respect from the public. That’s why you see men wearing suits and women attired in dresses or pantsuits.
As they should. Our senators deliberate over serious matters and, as a voter, I want them to act and look the part. What we choose to wear is more than a fashion statement or a nod to the weather and the season. Our garb signals how we view people and place, the task at hand. We wouldn’t don beachwear to go to a funeral, for example, nor wear a tuxedo to Happy Hour with work friends.
So it’s no wonder then that the abandonment of a Senate dress code has caused consternation. Most acknowledge the change was inspired, if not forced, by John Fetterman, the towering Democratic senator from Pennsylvania who is known as much for his medical issues as his slovenly outfits. These days he can be found in the Senate hallways clad in a hoodie and basketball shorts, though he wore suits to work when first elected.
Almost every GOP senator — 46 out of 49 — has asked Schumer to reverse course. Their letter reads, in part: “Allowing casual clothing ... disrespects the institution we serve and the American families we represent.”
Maine Republican Sen. Susan Collins, who belongs to the endangered species of moderates, echoed: “I think there is a certain dignity that we should be maintaining in the Senate, and to do away with the dress code, to me, debases the institution.”
I can’t believe I’m writing this since the current iteration of the Republican party turns my stomach, but here goes: I agree. I concur that there is a time and a place for basketball shorts, and it’s not the Senate floor and certainly not when that deliberative body is in session.
It makes more sense to nudge Fetterman into better sartorial choices than to lower the bar for the other 99 senators. As it is, members of both houses of Congress provide at least one face-palming embarrassment a week. Must it be over bro-style now?
Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, the extremist from Georgia, showed explicit photos of Hunter Biden at a House Oversight and Accountability Committee hearing. Rep. Lauren Boebert from Colorado was ejected from a theater after vaping and groping her date in public. And way back when we knew the meaning of shock, we were appalled by Anthony Weiner’s sexting scandal.
But back to the Senate dress code brouhaha. It gives me a chance to sound off, if only briefly, on the growing disregard for proper dress in public settings. When I’m at the airport, I really don’t want to see anyone’s butt cheeks oozing out of too-short shorts. Nor should I be subjected to pajamas and slippers at the mall or swimsuits at a doctor’s office. Enough.
These choices don’t signal original taste, not even a rebellious streak or avant-garde credentials. On the contrary. They show a deficiency of imagination and a lack of self-respect.
Ana Veciana-Suarez writes about family and social issues. Email her at avecianasuarez@gmail.com or visit her website anavecianasuarez.com. Follow @AnaVeciana.
