ON THE CAMPAIGN TRAIL:In politics, as in life, what you wear can send the strongest message of all – so how do today's politicians decide what they want to say to the sharp-eyed electorate? DEIRDRE MCQUILLANhits the campaign trail to find out
IT’S A TOUGH interface, dress and politics. The challenge of being in the limelight, of navigating style issues, of having to face cameras at every angle and getting the message across while looking the part – it can be a minefield. Many manage to master the tricky art of dressing for public life but even the most experienced occasionally come a cropper.
Who can forget Bertie Ahern’s canary yellow trousers at the G8 summit in 2004, when smart casual became disaster casual? And remember how Angela Merkel’s decolletage at the opera in Oslo plunged her cleavage into the headlines? Or, more recently, Mary Coughlan’s floral dress that distracted attention from Cowen’s statement to the nation and begged the question of whether she was immune to its visual impact? As we face into an election, how do Irish candidates square up to current sartorial codes of power dressing? Who cuts it on the canvass?
Politicians care a lot about what they have to say and how they are perceived. They have to. The way they dress is a clue to their choices and identities and they work hard to appear real and approachable while not allowing the effort to show. Often a detail or flourish, particularly on television, can be a tripwire magnifying what in another context would be overlooked – dangly earrings, for example, or garish ties.
There can be issues with hairstyles. Because women have more choices, what female politicians wear is more interesting. They are scrutinised and judged more harshly than their male counterparts, the latter safe inside their conventional male armour of suits and ties. “What a pity,” Mary O’Rourke once said, “that the men never get to wear cerise.”
Practised job candidates know that what’s worn on the street or in front of cameras sends out subtle or sometimes not too subtle indications of identity. Smart clothes may not win votes, but the wrong ones can lose them. Gravitas has a hard time with jeans and jumpers. Campaigning as a candidate for the Labour party 17 years ago, Liz McManus recalls seeing Máire Geoghegan-Quinn in a red coat and it struck her that a red coat “was a good way of identifying myself and the Labour party and so I bought one from Jimmy Hourihan and I’ve worn it ever since”. For her, the priorities when out canvassing are comfortable shoes and, in winter, thermal underwear. “We have a great advantage over male politicians because we don’t have to wear boring clothes, but it does mean you spend more time shopping,” she says.
Eoghan Murphy got his first political sartorial rap on the knuckles making his debut in the 2009 local elections in Dublin. “I was canvassing outside Morton’s [supermarket] in Ranelagh in jeans and a check shirt and I saw Garrett FitzGerald and went up and introduced myself. He listened, looked me up and down and said, ‘you’re not dressed smartly enough to be a candidate’.”
The young Fine Gael councillor eventually topped the poll with 2,600 votes and now, on the hustings again as an election candidate, is a little older and wiser. “The stereotypical image of the Irish politician is the comb-over and the anorak,” he says. “But that has changed. Politicians these days need to be younger – in the second Dáil the majority were under the age of 40, now it’s only 10 per cent,” he says.
A former UN speechwriter, Murphy was involved in diplomacy “and had to dress impeccably, with double cuffs showing – that was what you wore because you would be standing with ambassadors or senior dignitaries or going to receptions”, he recalls.
Describing himself as an outdoors type, Murphy hopes to climb Mont Blanc in the summer and also does adventure races. He confesses that if he could wear what he wanted it would be jeans, T-shirts and boots “and I wouldn’t shave, I hate shaving”. Like many men, he doesn’t enjoy shopping either. “You don’t want to have to think about what to wear, just a suit, a white shirt and a plain tie, but you want to be smart.”
Simon Coveney dresses well, in his opinion. For the campaign trail in Dublin southeast, Murphy’s sporting a suit from Marks Spencer, a sharp Crombie overcoat (collar nattily turned up), a shirt from TM Lewin and a yellow silk tie, a present from California. “I have a grey and a navy suit, both from MS, because they are hardwearing. The cufflinks were a gift from the UN in Geneva where I was working for five months before I came home to Foreign Affairs.”
Appearance matters. “You would hope it wouldn’t be important, but presentation has to play a role and communicate part of the message. I want my suit to be a uniform, a suit of armour, smart and practical. And out canvassing you get through shoes, mine have been resoled twice. I’m not fussy about them – if I have to buy them I’ll buy four at a time.”
He feels that it’s no use turning up in a shirt and jumper in a particular constituency where it might fit in more easily. “It’s very important that you are seen for what you are, not looking as if you are trying to fit in. That kind of falsehood comes undone very quickly.”
Like Murphy, Sean Sherlock, Labour TD for Cork East, has always worked in business environments, such as banking, and the European Parliament, where suits are par for the course. “It comes as second nature, but being a bloke you are lucky because once the shirt is ironed and you have a certain variety of ties and suits, you take a functional approach. You become quite fastidious after a while because you are living out of a suitcase during the week.” So he irons his shirts? “I can because I grew up in a household where you had domestic chores. I hate ironing but if I have to do it, I do it.”
Being on television has made him more aware. “People react to what you look like so presentation is important. The first reaction is to ties. Women in particular will comment on ties and I get guidance from my girlfriend or sister.”
Like Murphy, he’s sporty, a keen hill walker and sea kayaker: “I could live in flip-flops, khakis and shorts – off duty, it’s jeans and a jumper.”
He has black, grey, brown, navy and pinstripe suits, a range of shirts with cutaway collars and double cuffs. “I’m price-conscious and am always on the lookout for a bargain. I buy in the local menswear shop in Mitchelstown and in Marks Spencer. I have a grey Magee suit bought in Kennedy McSharry about two years ago. I think a good suit should last four to five years.”
Canvassing locally, he’s more likely to dress casually in a good overcoat, which is “necessary for rural politicians – with a pair of Wellingtons and boots in the car”. As for shoes: “I am a sucker for good old-fashioned brogues.”
Double cuffs are “a particular idiosyncrasy because I’ve received gifts of cufflinks in the past so I find myself matching shirts to them. They tell their own story. One pair I have is a souvenir of a trip to New York and another, which belonged to my late father, I wear to weddings.”
Ask him who he thinks dresses well, and he hesitates before citing Don Rice, Dáil restaurant manager, as “pitch perfect” and adding, with a smile, that “Eamon Ryan carries off the heritage look very well”.
In his opinion, the image of Labour politicians has changed. “During the Blair years, all those Blair clones dressed like him, but nowadays as long as you look smart, you can be taken seriously. It’s important that we present ourselves well. I like subtlety and understatement because they have longevity. That’s my style.”
For Averil Power, a new Fianna Fáil candidate in Dublin North, the most important thing when knocking on doors is practicality – a warm coat, trousers and shoes she can run in. “I carry about three coats in the back of the car in case I’m too warm or freezing.”
Men in politics wear so many navy suits, she sighs, particularly in group photographs, where “60 guys in navy suits all blend into each other” although she thinks Joe McHugh of Fine Gael dresses well. “For men it’s less important – most Irish men dress the same.”
Fond of colour, she wear suits – dresses and jackets – mostly from Next online. “I like colour and I love two pieces because you don’t have to think about skirts and matching tops. I have three-piece suits as well. I used to queue up for Next suits in the sales, but it was insane and I rarely go now. I’ll buy three or four at a time, then nothing for months.”
Power grew up on a council estate, was the first in her family to finish school and has a degree in Business, Economic and Social Science from TCD, where she was president of the students’ union and where she first joined Fianna Fáil. “I did press, radio and TV in my student days and I know about background colour on TV, that type of thing – that if it’s pink you don’t wear pink. Clothes are a reflection of personal style and what makes you feel comfortable. I think I look smart and colourful. I never wear black because I am very pale and black makes me look tired. It’s all about looking well with the minimum of effort when time is of the essence.”
She leads an active life as ministerial adviser to Mary Hanafin: she jogs, is PRO of her local rugby club, Suttonians, plays tag rugby and does 12km runs. Recently she won a local boxing club event and says that boxing “is amazing for your arms and for getting into shape. In Donaghmede there are 30 women from 18 or 19 up to 50 boxing – it’s the Katie Taylor effect.”
Dressing for politics is the same as for any job in that “you want to feel and look confident. I am terrible at smart casual though I wear boots and jeans at weekends. But I’m used to wearing suits to work and don’t have time to do funky things with shirts like Olwyn Enright, who dresses youthfully and looks great. You wouldn’t go to an important meeting without making an effort. We just look like what young professionals look like.”
Thérèse Ruane of Sinn Féin, deputy mayor of Castlebar, says becoming a public figurehead is a huge transition. “Presentation is very important in politics and you have to get used to seeing your face on a poster and having to get photos taken.” Persuaded to be made up professionally and have her hair blow-dried for a campaign poster, she tore up the photographs and had them taken again “because it wasn’t me”.
An experienced politician, she’s pragmatic in her approach. “People notice what women wear in public life. Men notice. And that puts pressure on you, but you move beyond that. I dress casually and I am very active. I play sports and cycle everywhere. I have a low budget and can’t spend a lot, so I often borrow clothes from friends or shop in secondhand shops or sales. I’ve always been fashion conscious, but not in a fussy way, and I almost always shop local.”
For elections, she looks for coats that are casual but presentable. “I think there is something important about being yourself and not trying to be somebody you’re not. Most of the time I wear trousers or leggings with a long top, cardigan and boots. I dress very much for comfort. You can’t wear too much jewellery because it’s a distraction, and out canvassing you need to show respect for others.”
She likes colour, loves scarves and interesting hand-made textiles picked up from her travels and voluntary work in Latin America. “I choose carefully, because I like a smart casual look, but there is awful pressure and some feel it more than others and just wear the suit. I like being in public life and was always involved in community work, but there was not the same pressure.”
Being in politics did change her style a bit, she says. “There is learning, that there are certain colours you can’t wear, like black. You need to think about those things and think about photographs. I could be out canvassing, then going to a civic reception, so a good coat and something presentable is important. Image is important for politicians; we have no choice and the public is very judgemental.”
Dundalk Council’s first Green party councillor, Mark Dearey, was appointed a senator last March and combines his work as a bar owner with family and political life. He is also the owner of the popular Spirit Store in Dundalk (which recently won a Hot Press award). “For years as a music promoter I went around wearing rock’n’roll T-shirts, but once politics came along, I had to change. Politics is a serious business and you need to convey that. Plus, I am older now. In political terms I am considered young, but in rock’n’roll terms I’m a dinosaur,” he says.
A sober suit and tie man, his suits have to work hard not only on the canvass, but dealing with two small children aged three years and seven months. He is the eldest of a family of five, and the son of a retired draper. He buys clothes locally from Tony McDonnell and O’Connells in Dundalk. “I pick things up quickly and make decisions in a matter of seconds. I don’t have the mental state or time to shop.”
For cold-weather campaigning, he stresses the importance of underwear. “I am walking for six to seven hours every day on city and country roads, so beneath this suit I am kitted out as if I was a mountaineer in Schiesser underwear and thick socks.”
He also keeps a polish kit in the car to eliminate the white stains on shoes from snow and salt, and says people notice footwear.
“As a barman, when you only have a moment to assess an individual, shoes that are old, dirty or scuffed help you build a picture of a person, so I always quickly look down.” On the canvass, he thought about wearing a hat, “but because I couldn’t settle on one, I decided not to wear one at all. These are sober times, so I’m dressing quietly and not trying to make funny gestures with ties.”
Now that east Meath is part of the Louth constituency, he says he’s meeting voters who have never spoken to a Green before. “Greens in government have diminished that notion of a party of slackers. We may not be the best dressers, but we do try and respect parliamentary conventions in terms of dress codes.”
He owns grey, brown and blue suits, preferring brown for arts events and blue for business meetings. He notices what other politicians wear and “likes to see those who can strike out in a simple way like Leo Varadkar and Eamon Ryan – I always note their fashion sense”.
In politics, protest parties use clothing as signals, he thinks. “Richard Boyd Barrett uses black a lot and in political terms it is the colour of anarchism, especially when combined with red. Politicians who wear black shirts are signalling a desire for subversion and subversive politics. There are conventions around dress that are important in these times, about demonstrating competence and not distraction with your clothes, that you are not focusing on yourself, but on the work in hand. And I never wear green, it would be too obvious.”
CANVASS CONSULTANTS: ‘SEVEN SECONDS’ TO IMPRESS
According to image consultants Fiona McKeon and Sheila McNeive, who work with political-party supporters and canvassers, first impressions are made in seven seconds and canvassers need to look the part to get a sympathetic hearing. They point out that “55 per cent of the impression we create is determined by how we look – our clothing, our grooming and body language, a further 38 per cent of how we sound and only 7 per cent by what we actually say”. Some of their tips, such as the importance of grooming and not too much make up for women, may seem obvious, but they also counsel against wearing black or very vibrant colours, such as red or deep purple, arguing that brown, camel, cream and navy evoke trust and approachability.
