The choices you've made thus far demonstrate traits that will be useful in a first lady: practicality, flexibility, a sense of humor, a sense of glamour. Yours is a particularly American style—relaxed, confident, classic, and not overly label-happy. You've embraced American designers, from populist low-cost outfitters like White House/Black Market (the awkwardly named makers of the now famous $148 dress you wore on The View) to big-gun American designers like Narciso Rodriguez (who made the cranberry wool shift you wore at the debate in Nashville) and new stars like Thakoon Panichgul (who made the print dress you had on in Denver).
You've also embraced the casual chic of some classically American looks. I love the way you wear your belt over a fitted sweater, like Mary Tyler Moore. I love that you wear flat shoes with a full skirt: so Maria from West Side Story.
I even love that you make the occasional mistake. It shows that you are open-minded, even risk-taking. But the white floral-print J. Crew dress you wore to the University of Mississippi debate was too much. White is rarely good on camera and, you'll excuse me, never good from the rear view.
And I must ask because everyone wants to know: What about that Narciso Rodriguez dress in Grant Park? Wonkette called it "hell-colored." Sixty-five percent of those polled by People.com said they hated the dress. Tight satin? Beading? The obi waist? The weird little cardigan? Mrs. Obama, black with red is too jarring a color combination for a first lady. It's too dramatic. It recalls an eerie portrait by Goya or a costume from Tosca or Carmen. All too fiery when we want you to soothe. Especially in an image that will be beamed around the world and live online forever.
By now, I imagine you must find the comparisons to Jacqueline Kennedy flattering but tiring. At 44, you will be the youngest first lady since Camelot; the comparisons are inevitable. That doesn't make them accurate.
Like Kennedy, you clearly understand the power of clothes to telegraph messages. In the midst of Sarah Palin's Wardrobegate, you wore wore inexpensive J. Crew separates on The Tonight Show, telling Jay Leno, "You can get a lot of great stuff online. ("All Politics Aside … this outfit gets our vote" reads a current J. Crew ad, an effort to cash in on your endorsement.) Another savvy choice: You wore evening pajamas by Isabel Toledo for a fundraiser hosted by Vogue Editor-in-Chief Anna Wintour in New York last June. Toledo is an insider's designer; all black was a smart choice for meeting fashion deities (and the pope.)
Like Jackie Kennedy, you understand that dressing for your audience is important. But that's where the comparison ends. Where Kennedy's wardrobe was constant, a calculated piece of stagecraft, your style is more casual and more spontaneous. Which makes it much more interesting.
Jackie's White House wardrobe was essentially custom work from one designer, Oleg Cassini; you buy off the rack. Jackie bought clothes and returned them after wearing them. What you wear, you own. Jackie often spent tens of thousands of dollars in one shot; no one could accuse you of lavish spending.
It seems, happily, that we are more obsessed with your wardrobe than you are. Surely you are less fixated than the proprietors of MrsO, an obsessive new blog devoted to your sartorial choices. But I'd like to leave you with a few specific thoughts. (Like you, I'm sure, I hate it when people bring me a problem without bringing me a resolution.)