Fashioning ‘The First Lady’
It is a coincidence, but a telling one, that the day after “The First Lady,” the series that is a revisionist take on presidential wives as seen through the intertwined stories of Michelle Obama, Betty Ford and Eleanor Roosevelt, premiered on Showtime, Jill Biden hosted the White House Easter Egg Roll. Or rather, the Easter “Eggucation” roll.
There she stood, the current first lady and the only one out of more than 50 (official and acting) to keep her preadministration day job, like a bouquet of hyacinths in a pink dress festooned with a veritable garden of florals, a coordinating purple coat and fuchsia gloves. She exuded warmth and family values, embodying the platonic ideal of a political spouse, while also promoting her signature cause (education).
If ever there was a reallife illustration of the balancing act between role-playing and real issues that is part of performing one of the strangest nonjob jobs that exists, this was it.
Exactly how strange that position is, forms the heart of “The First Lady,” a bit of historical didacticism dressed up as pop-culture entertainment that makes the case for the presidential wife as the progressive social conscience of an administration, thus aiming to change the narrative from one largely focused on image-making to one focused on substance.
Yet what the series may do best is illustrate just how intertwined the roles actually are. The first reaction of viewers was not to the premise of the show, rather, it was to the facial tics, especially the lip pursing, of Viola Davis as Obama.
By how they look, we think we know them. “The
two things are intrinsically connected,” said Cathy Schulman, the showrunner and executive producer of “The First Lady.”
Schulman and Signe Sejlund, the costume designer for the series, were focused on getting the clothes as accurate as possible.
Starting in late 2020, teams of researchers began collecting historical documentation and images from the periods represented, many of which had been preserved for posterity, the better to build wardrobes that could consist of about 75 changes for each woman. These included such major public sartorial statements as their wedding dresses, inauguration outfits and the gowns they wore for their official White House portraits.
Jason Wu, who designed both of Obama’s inaugural gowns, agreed to recreate the first one for Davis.
Some are clones of the originals, including Ford’s
shirtdresses, often paired with the silk scarves she favored, her many polka dots and her quilted bathrobes — especially the yellow robe she wore when she left the hospital after her mastectomy.
And some are conceptually the same, like the wide belts that, along with the pearls, cardigans and sleeveless sheaths, became a signature of Obama. Then there was the collection of jaunty hats that were a Roosevelt trademark.
All such accessories are on some level recognizable because they serve as wormholes to the events portrayed. We may not remember them exactly, but we’ve probably seen the picture. It exists in our shared memory book, just as the photo of Biden in her stylized florals with the rabbits will. Acknowledging that likelihood doesn’t take away from her achievements or the connection she made between holiday décor and learning. It supports it.*