When did clothes go out of style for politicians?

WEARING nothing but her beachwear and her carefully curated collection of body art, aka tattoos, senator Lynn Ruane sashayed into her Lidl store in Tallaght last week.

The sun was splitting the stones as, en route to the bakery section, the doughty senator was pulled aside by a security guard and asked basically to cover up in future.

Lynn blushed scarlet at the dressing down and did what all of us do when we are embarrassed, or mortified in public.

Yes, she got it all off her chest in front of her 27,000 strong Twitter fans while uploading a selfie in her pastel-coloured bikini top.

‘As if me wearing a swimsuit for a top in the summer is any different to any other little tank top I’d wear. Get a grip,’ thundered Lynn, pictured, with the sort of self-righteous fury we’ve come to expect from politicians.

Lynn’s fans duly obliged, submitting to the fantasy of their heroine as a modern-day Joan of Arc or Germaine Greer, fearlessly making a stand for the sisterhood’s bodily integrity against the summer top Taliban.

THERE were sexist double standards in play, fumed Lynn, changing gears into full victim mode. ‘Men walking around in vests showing just as much skin,’ she tweeted.

A panicked Lidl joined the chorus of outrage, disassociating itself from the actions of their third- party security contractor. Nothing to do with us, they said while inviting the senator to make contact.

The curious thing about Ms Ruane’s defensive outburst is that she didn’t consider for a nanosecond the effects her swimsuit parade may have had on her fellow customers or if they had complained to the security guard, threatening to take their business elsewhere unless he intervened.

For a senator whose reputation rests on being a champion of the underdog, that’s a bit of a paradox. Call me a prude or petty even, but is supermarket shopping not hard enough without having to look at ladies in their swimwear or barechested blokes in shorts or speedos, shuffling down the aisles for sausages.

To paraphrase Lynn, Get a grip; it’s just gross. Exposing so much flesh outside the home or swimming pool and beach is unhygienic, over-familiar, rude and disrespectful to those of us who actually get dressed before we go out.

No one wants to see flabby armpits, hairy chests or thunder thighs at the fish counter or anywhere food safety is paramount.

Perhaps the fault is ours for not putting our foot down more forcefully when Mick Wallace upturned the politicians’ dress code by pitching up to the Dáil in his polo shirts. The smart formal wear that was worn religiously up until then to Leinster House is nothing more than a uniform, but true to his maverick spirit, Mick Wallace refused to toe the line.

ARE we now paying the price for indulging him in this reluctance of members of the Oireachtas – from Lynn Ruane to shirtless Leo and shortless Luke ‘Ming’ Flanagan – to wear proper clothes in public? Why are they behaving as if dressing has gone out of fashion, in the way of bowler hats and fascinators?

Flanagan was this week caught red-legged in shorts that were so skimpy it looked as if he was just wearing a top as he sat on his bed, firing off questions to the European parliament.

Pity his fellow MEPs, who must have squirmed at the sight of him scratching his pins.