I’m not sure if it was Tiffany’s hair or Melania’s hat or Lauren’s cleavage or Usha’s coat.
Or maybe it was Ivanka, trussed up like a retro air hostess for her dad’s big day only to burst forth in the evening in a full rococo Audrey Hepburn-inspired gown.
Perhaps it was all five of them. But one thing was certain: the inauguration of President Trump tapped into something I haven’t felt for nearly 30 years.
Girl Power.
Weird isn’t it, that as SPOTUS (Sex Pest of the United States) re-enters the White House and the world wrings its hands fearing the Trump presidency will set back feminism, all I could see was 90s-inspired women stepping boldly into their power.
On the surface it looked like a festival of tits, tresses, triceps and tech bros.
But as Lauren Sanchez in a white push-up bra distracted Mark Zuckerberg with her assets and Tiffany Trump filled half the TV screen with her macro hair, and Usha Vance channelled Amal Clooney, and Ivanka and Melania Trump battled it out for best off-the-shoulder monochrome ballgown, it wasn’t the bouffanted and backcombed new President who drew focus.
Rather, like the Spice Girls reborn, a bunch of gutsy politically adjacent but powerful-in-their-own-right women owned the moment.
It felt like being back in 1994 before wellness and woke and wanging on about yourself in hushed therapy-speak became the vibe and vernacular of our current age.
If you half-closed your eyes you were there in the year the Spice Girls burst onto the stage and Liz Hurley stole Hugh Grant’s thunder by cantilevering her breasts with a smatter of oversized safety pins.
The year Eva Herzigova seduced us with her “Hello Boys” Wonderbra campaign and the supermodels commandeered magazines and pop videos with their big hair and attitudes. Even Melania’s hat had “I don’t get out of bed for less than $10,000 a day” energy.
This old-school IRL (in real life) event on a freezing day in Washington crystallised how fed up I am with what currently constitutes girl power, namely podcasters prattling on about being trolled and TikTok influencers obsessing about “trauma” and “triggers”.
Am I the only one concerned about the victimhood mentality that’s decimating our workplaces, poisoning our social spaces and leaving young women too nervous to have children and instead obsessing over beauty products?
Because they’re “safe”.
Oh how badly I wish for a return to the 90s when women such as Madonna and Kylie Minogue won us over with their cheeky cone bras, hotpants and talent.
When Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Elle Macpherson et al owned and honed and monetised their image.
When one of the Spice Girls pinched Prince Charles’s bottom and charmed Nelson Mandela.
When Princess Diana refused to cry into her pillow and instead strode out in a black mini dress the same evening her husband revealed he’d cheated on her.
These women showcased to me as a twenty-something what it was to be bold.
How to work your arse off to build a career rather than manifesting it with a vision board and journaling.
They showed me that ambition was nothing to be ashamed of and that my chutzpah not my upbringing would define me.
Mostly they showed me that life could be crazy fun and passionate and possible, not through mindfulness but through literally filling my mind with knowledge and ideas and adventures.
In the 90s you could have a big hairy notion — see the dot.com era — and it could fail spectacularly but you were nevertheless applauded for trying.
These were the years when Dolly the sheep was cloned, when Pixar made the first CGI film and South Africa’s first black President united his broken nation by hosting, and winning, a Rugby World Cup as memorable now as it was 30 years ago.
These days few operate with audacity because they’re too afraid of being cancelled.
Which is why, whether you’re a Republican supporter or not, there’s something electrifying in the analogue power of the Trump-adjacent women.
It may simply be their vibe, but there was a defiance, a sense of the regal and retro, in the force they transmitted in a sea of sloping-shouldered men who may command the titles but not necessarily the cameras.
They also spanned the generations: Ivanka’s 13-year-old daughter Arabella who is fluent in Mandarin and once sang for China’s President; 31-year-old pregnant Tiffany, Trump’s only child with second wife Marla Maples, and 39-year-old lawyer and second lady Usha Vance; the 40-something politicos Ivanka and Lara Trump; and Melania and Lauren Sanchez showing that mid-50s menopause is no obstacle to a rocking body.
One employed an eye-concealing, kiss-deflecting hat to signal her power, the other a white lace bra that had commentators such as Megyn Kelly claiming her outfit was inappropriate. Whatever, both women were dressing for themselves, employing emblems of modern girl power as memorable as Geri Halliwell’s famous Union Jack dress.
Who knows what these women will do or if they will have any lasting influence. But we need something to spice up our lives.
ANGELA LOVES
SEARCH FOR TRUTH: Colin Firth is mesmeric in Lockerbie (Binge) which tells the true story of Dr Jim Swire trying to find answers following his daughter’s death in the horrific 1988 plane disaster. Compelling viewing.
AUSTRALIAN TALENT: I’ve just heard that the BBC is making a TV series based on author Richard Flanagan’s The Narrow Road to the Deep North and they’re keeping it Aussie-led with Jacob Elordi and one-to-watch Odessa Young playing key roles.
SALAD DAYS: I love Chef Tom Walton’s recipes on Instagram and recently made his baby gem wedge salad with capers, anchovy, lemon, radishes, celery, lemon and parmesan. My guests loved it.
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Originally published as Forget the tech bros, this was girl power on show at Trump inauguration
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