There’s a dangerous aroma in the air, a sickly sweet stench of mediocrity wrapped in a deceptive sheen of youthful charm and counterfeit charisma. It wafts through the hallowed halls of public office, where tradition and decorum once stood as pillars of respect. The wolf in sheep’s clothing has arrived, strutting around like a GQ centerfold, armed with a sport coat that doesn’t quite fit and a T-shirt that screams, “I don’t care.”
This is not a fashion critique—oh no, far from it. This is a matter of principle, a symptom of the deeper rot eating away at the respect and dignity our offices once commanded. What makes a freshly elected political figure ditch the collared shirt and tie? Why the smug parade of denim and disinterest? The answer, my friends, lies in the shadows of influence, a marionette guided by the unseen strings of their predecessor.
Yes, you heard me right. The roots of this casual insurrection were planted long before the first button on that dress shirt was forsaken. Somewhere in the backroom dealings and whispered promises of political ambition, the rules of decorum were sacrificed at the altar of convenience. “Forget the tie,” they likely said. “You’re not here to serve; you’re here to perform.”
And what a performance it is! A theater of absurdity where tradition is mocked, and respect for office is abandoned. A T-shirt, jeans, and a hand-me-down sport coat? Come on, man! This isn’t an open mic night at the local dive bar. This is public office. This is where decisions are made that ripple through the lives of thousands. It’s not New Jersey, where rolling out of bed and grabbing whatever’s clean might pass as “charm.” This is Josephine County, where the people deserve better.
What’s next? Will we catch our county commissioner hurtling down Mount Ashland in his trusty blue jeans, blending in with the tourists, rather than leading as a symbol of authority and professionalism? Will the next ribbon-cutting ceremony be conducted in flip-flops? Where does it end?
Now, let’s be clear. I’m not here to defend some outdated, rigid code of style. I don’t care what brand of tie you wear or whether your shirt is French cuff or off-the-rack from the local department store. What I care about—what the people should care about—is what this cavalier attitude says about the person wearing the clothes.
“Dress for the job you want,” they tell us. “Dress for success.” These phrases aren’t just clichés to sell overpriced suits to Wall Street bros; they’re guiding principles. They speak to the respect you show for your role, the commitment you demonstrate to the community you serve, and the dignity you bring to the institution you represent.
A T-shirt and jeans, no matter how “fancy” the sport coat, send the opposite message. It says, “I don’t care enough to respect this office. I don’t care enough to uphold its traditions. I don’t care enough about the people who voted for me to even try.”
And make no mistake, the people notice. They notice the slouch in your posture, the casual shrug of indifference, the smirk that suggests you think you’re above it all. They notice, and they remember. Because for all the smoke and mirrors, the charm and the photo ops, you’re not fooling anyone.
Grow up. Show some respect for the office you hold and the people you represent. Leadership isn’t about looking cool or trendy; it’s about setting an example. And that example starts with the simple act of dressing like you give a damn.
You were elected to serve, not to star in a fashion spread for “Uninspired Political Chic.” It’s time to stop playing dress-up and start acting like the leader your community deserves. Put on a tie. Wear a proper shirt. Show us that you understand the weight of the office you hold.
Because if you can’t be bothered to respect the small things—the traditions, the decorum, the dress—how can we trust you to respect the big things? The budget, the policies, the people?
The wolf in sheep’s clothing comes in many forms. Sometimes, it looks like a polished, well-spoken leader. And sometimes, it looks like a guy in a T-shirt and jeans pretending he belongs. Either way, it’s the job of the people to call it out, to demand better, and to remind those in power that respect is not optional—it’s earned.
The voters put you in that seat. Now it’s time to show them you’re worthy of it. Or step aside and make room for someone who will.