Senator Mary Landrieu is one of the most influential legislators in Congress. She is Chairperson of the Senate Committee on Small Business & Entrepreneurship, centrally involved in the consuming debate on a sweeping health-care bill, and active in energy issues, child-focused legislation, and women’s care. She rallied hard for rebuilding and reforming Louisiana when Hurricane Katrina devastated her state, but Landrieu is also a well-known neighbor on the Hill. Residing on East Capitol Street with her husband and two children, she gets her Christmas tree from James at Eastern Market, negotiates with her husband, Frank Snellings, about whether it should be 12 feet or eight (we wonder who won this year), and unpacks seasonal stories like the The Matchbox Girl and her family’s tree ornaments.
Some days, that is just what she appears to be—another busy, urban woman with a family, with the holidays looming.
Neighbors see her at Results Gym or at the grocery store with all the other busy Hill folk, trying to get some shopping or a workout in, before she transforms herself into full Senate regalia. She favors power red or blue blazers with smart black skirts or pants, gleaming pearl strands or a pearl pendant securely fastened around the neck to go with a smile (or frown of concern). You need, after all, to be prepared for the flashing camera lights and scrum of reporters closing in on all sides with microphones outstretched.
You need polish, confidence, and then some. Landrieu takes the straight road of classics and tried and true fabrics, putting on the uniform of a powerful woman, and then forgetting about it as she goes about her day.
But how does she make that transformation between the roles she plays and still remain the distinguished Southern lady from Louisiana? She is only the state’s second female senator (the first served for a year in the 1930s) and one of only 17 women serving currently.
“It does look a little frightening at times when I dress down,” she told THIH on a recent busy Friday afternoon (I disagree, and think she looks relaxed). “It is hard to look senatorial walking the dogs… I pretty much do jeans and sweatshirts.
When she is at the gym, residents comment that she blends in, and seems more like, well, us…the non-Senators with kids/dogs/jobs/shopping carts/bags of groceries/flat hair.
‘Appropriate’ is a word she prefers to use for describing her attire. Her clothes say she is here for work, not for fun.
Work outfits are not chosen for panache and pizazz so much as for comfort—you know this woman needs to inhabit these clothes from early in the morning through “hard negotiations sessions all day,” and into events at night. Her suits, in the bold solid colors favored by politicians denote power and a staidness that belies her expressive features. She wears them as the uniform of someone who must get the job done, something she may have learned growing up the daughter of a New Orleans politician in a big Catholic family.
“I have a variety of different pantsuits and tops and just can’t think too much about it,” Landrieu said. The thing is, they must be “appropriate and professional and comfortable,” she says.
For a switch to an evening soiree or event, the clock is not generous with time for all-out wardrobe changes, so Landrieu will “throw on a scarf, change a pin or change earrings,” she says.
Her clothes are not specially made. Landrieu says she picks things up at the Nordstrom in Pentagon City, fancies Chico’s, and goes to Target, like everyone else, for her workout clothes.
She gave a favorite shop of hers a special mention—the boutique Elizabeth’s, on Metairie Road, about three miles from downtown New Orleans.
Elizabeth’s carries specialty lines from casual to career, from classic pieces to fun jackets in lightweight fabrics–not much wool here– and fun, sparkly shells. Sal, the owner, says the Senator favors a great line of travel wear that doesn’t wrinkle, made by Peace of Cloth.
Sounds sensible, like the image Landrieu likes to project.
The frivolity of Landrieu that we may never see here, is perhaps shown in her fully decorated Christmas tree , after her husband and son Connor put on the lights, “so when people go by, they can say Frank and Connor did their job this year, “she says. After the Christmas light dressing, her daughter Mary Shannon and she get busy with their own special ornaments—each child has his/her own. I wonder if this is where she lets loose with a little more of the sparkle and glitter?
I think Liz Festa is a wonderful person and a good writer. Let’s give her something more interesting and substantive to write about, PLEASE. If fashion on the Hill (what?) must be written about, can we please help improve the situation instead of just encouraging the stereotype. (yes, there is a stereotype…DC and Hill folk in particular are some of the worst put-together people in the US of A).
@Rstouhey Liz, like all of our writers, chooses her own topics and has written on topics as varied as the Hine redevelopment, crime, and yes, fashion. And, whether we like or it not, the “stereotype” exists for a reason, and living amongst Senators and Congressman is as much a part of life on the Hill as going to Eastern Market on the weekends or taking your dog to Lincoln Park after work.