If I was headed to a power lunch with my friend Marie, where we would order cobb salads (no bacon) and discuss best filing practices (she’s all for going digital but I much prefer traditional manila, thank you very much), this is probably what I would wear.
Of course, I don’t have a friend Marie and if I were to order a cobb salad the ingredients I would omit would be the lettuce and tomato, thereby leaving me essentially with a bowl of bacon and an egg. But it’s a nice fantasy. After all, what else were blazers with shoulder pads and matching skorts made for if not the power lunch?
The politics of the shoulder pad are rooted in early workplace feminism, where women used fashion to level the playing field with their male counterparts. It’s unclear whether or not it did much—though if the current political climate is any indication, I would be inclined to say it did not—but the use of shoulder pads to make people take you seriously and come across as a Strong! Independent! WoMAN! is one of the best examples of transformative fashion I can think of.
It’s also kind of ridiculous. A Harvard grad with ten years of experience in a top law firm is probably not serious about her career judging from her penchant for floral dresses, but put her in shoulder pads? The next RBG, ladies and gents!
I’ve lately been very into monochrome dressing (see exhibit A here, in which I look like a carrot) so I decided to try my hand at another all-over colour look, this time dedicating myself to the pursuit of blue.
Fortuitously, I own a gorgeous blue blazer with the largest shoulder pads this side of a football field. I also own a similarly-coloured skort. And in the spirit of doing away with my street cred once and for all, I feel compelled to let you know that the skort is from Banana Republic and I owned one identical to it between the ages of 8-12.
I opted for a sky blue turtleneck to make the look more layered (this was a choice, lest you think I don’t own a navy blue turtleneck) (fools!) and grey-blue air stewardess heels because Strong Independent Women need to be able to gracefully maneuver cobblestones. And being that I am not Olivia Pope, I can’t do that in stilettos.
There! I almost trick myself into looking like I have it together with this ensemble. Because if a coordinated skort suit with massive shoulder pads doesn’t unequivocally say “I have a mortgage, an assistant named Pam, and sensible loafers in four shades of beige, do not fuck with me”, I don’t know what does.