I’m frequently asked if I ever meet the politicians I’ve commented on, and the answer is, oh hell yeah. I meet and talk to them all the time, and it’s usually either really fun or terribly awkward.
We all know about Monica Lewinsky, and she absolutely was a victim of Bill Clinton, period.
Once the story broke about what happened to her (not what she did: WHAT HAPPENED TO HER), and her face was the most ubiquitous visage in the United States, there was something about her that seemed so very familiar to me.
It dawned on me, after I had heard that she had been a student at Portlandia’s Lewis and Clark College, that I actually knew her in passing.
One of my unfortunate hobbies at the time was…um…neckties.
I still own hundreds of ties, and I think I have almost every single tie I have ever purchased. As a nascent Californian, I ditched the ties, mostly, as well as the 20-odd suits I once owned. Oh, I was on a first-name basis with every Nordstrom and Mario’s salesperson in the 1990s, and I was widely considered very natty, particularly for someone who worked at a newspaper.
Newspaper guys at The Oregonian would be considered fashionable if the battered navy blazer and khakis matched up with the pills-on-the-collar blue button down shirt and a soup-stained tie.
I had one colleague who really put me to shame. I don’t wish to name him. He no longer works at The Oregonian—he’s at a major daily newspaper now and seems to be doing well—but this guy was an order of magnitude more Dress For Success than any New York model. If his tie didn’t work with his shirt and tie once he got to work, he would trek down to Nordstrom or Mario’s at lunch and buy a new one that was exactly right.
I wasn’t quite that bad, and California has had a cravat-leavening effect on me. I can no longer be bothered to wear more than a loincloth, sandals, and a knife in a leather scabbard. A big fashion play outside of K Street in Sacramento (where all the 27 year old political aides and lobbyists wear $5000 worth of clothes, baseline) is a newish Tommy Bahama shirt.
That would be for a wedding.
Male politicians around Sac are all generally fashionably reflective of their districts. Bolo ties are common in the Assembly, along with cowboy boots, tweed jackets with leather patches. More suburban male legislators stick with blueshirtneutraltiebluegraysuits. The San Francisco and Los Angeles men are very, very sharp.
More often than not, Gov. Gavin Newsom wears an open collar white shirt (two buttons open) and a navy suit, and he very much pulls it off. If he wears a tie, it’s either dark blue, medium blue, or powder blue. I do not believe he ever wears stripes or patterns.
Anyway, my tie obsession would sometimes lead me to exploring other tie outlets. There was one in particular I would drop by in Pioneer Place, the upscale mall in downtown Portland where I would regularly sample the culinary delights of the food court.
I was in my late thirties then, and I would frequently amble by a tie shop there that, if recall correctly, didn't even have walls. A large kiosk, I think one would call it. The store was in the middle of the common walking space toward the food court, and there was a very charming saleswoman there in her early twenties.
I would stop by, look at her ties, and was really struck by how charismatic she was. She was funny and had a great smile, with arresting eyes. I never bought one of her ties (maybe one?) but I enjoyed saying hello. Her particular tie shop featured wider, more garish ties. I do remember she said the one I was looking at would look great with my suit (BIG SMILE, DING!). I demurred because I was kind of more of muted, narrow tie person.
And, listen to me, I didn’t say anything remotely improper to that woman.
I now know that this was Monica Lewinsky.
The news noted that, in fact, she did sell ties in Portland while a student at LC, and I was a resident of Portland and a tie consumer of some renown. It was definitely her. I don’t recall anything more specific about our few chats, other than I would describe her as effervescent.
Now, this in and of itself isn’t utterly fascinating, other than that history can touch us all in some tangential manner. For example, as a seven year old, I went to Sen. Robert F. Kennedy’s burial at Arlington in 1968. Or I saw a very elderly Gen. Omar Bradley driving in a limousine that had a five star license plate at Arlington Cemetery when I was about 9 or so. I saw Ted Williams through binoculars as a child, watching him manage the Washington Senators. Or that Ethel Kennedy, Harry Belafonte, Bill Mauldin, and David Brinkley called me once. In fact, I saw David Brinkley scream at a poor bastard on an escalator once (he didn’t want to chat, and I don’t blame him).
Had you told me that a short period of time later, I would be drawing cartoons about her and the president of the United States, I would think you were committing perjury under oath.
Monica, wherever you are, I wish I had bought a tie from you. I’d frame it. It would have made a better anecdote. But this did lead me to my next column on Hillary Clinton.
NEXT: HILLARY WAS THE NICEST PERSON I EVER MET, PARTICULARLY COMPARED TO HER HUSBAND…
“DING!”
I clearly hear your voice and humor, Jack. I miss our laughter.
My late father was a big fan of David Brinkley. Every night we would watch him and John Chancellor read the news. I'm having a really hard time picturing him screaming at anyone. Just does not compute.