Read My Pins (8 page)

The fashions of the 1980s have been described as postfeminist, which was fine with me since I had largely missed out on the earlier phases. The idea was that a woman could show independence from stereotypes without eschewing ornamentation; it was no longer thought essential to dress plainly in order to be taken seriously or to imply that wearing earrings made one unable to think. Since women were making inroads in business and the professions, power jackets and pantsuits came into style. The brooch was a natural accompaniment.

During my first decade of postmarital independence, I taught world affairs at Georgetown University and advised presidential candidates, most of whom lost. I also dated and shopped quite a bit. This is when I discovered the Tiny Jewel Box, a boutique situated on Connecticut Avenue in Washington’s busiest commercial district. The store is actually more narrow than tiny. It advertises itself as “six intimate floors filled with treasures from around the world, each one hand-selected with an eye for the truly unique.”

I have spent many an afternoon wandering about the Tiny Jewel Box’s displays of antique pieces (typically bought from estates) and newer items by hot designers. My motives at the outset were entirely pure; I marched through the doors intent on selecting a necklace or brooch to give to a relative or friend in celebration of some event. If the occasion were a wedding, I might also decide to buy something elegant to wear at the ceremony; if a lesser event, a bauble to match a dress.

French urn, designer unknown.

Before long, I accepted that it was okay to shop with my own needs and desires in mind. Thus, when my eye was attracted to a serpent pin, I did not hesitate to buy it; this was the pin that would later launch my use of brooches as a diplomatic tool.

The sheaf of wheat is a symbol of abundance and health. This pin was given to me upon my return to Georgetown University after my time as secretary of state.
Sheaf of wheat, Tiffany & Co.

MICHAEL KRESS PHOTOGRAPHY

In a celebratory mood at Katie’s wedding, joined by daughters Alice and Anne, and my three sons-in-law, Greg Bowes (holding grandson David), Jake Schatz, and Geoff Watson.
Grapes, Tiny Jewel Box.

Late in 1992, President-elect Clinton asked me to serve as America’s ambassador to the United Nations. During the Cold War, the UN Security Council had been frozen by rivalry between East and West. The Council could only act when the superpowers agreed, and they did not agree often or about very much. When I arrived, three years after the collapse of the Berlin Wall, relations had thawed and the Council had new life. Instead of the big powers preventing cooperative action, they were asking the world body to take on jobs no country wanted to do alone. This had important implications for international law—and for my wardrobe.

JAMES ESTRIN/THE NEW YORK TIMES/REDUX
My friend Jeane Kirkpatrick gave me good advice before my move to New York.

Before leaving for New York, I consulted with my colleague at Georgetown, Jeane Kirkpatrick, who had been UN ambassador when Ronald Reagan was president. Kirkpatrick gave me one piece of advice: “Lose the professor clothes.” Until then, I had been a student, mother, government staffer, and teacher; this was to be my first prolonged experience in the limelight. I spent time trying on outfits in various Washington boutiques; soon I also confirmed what no one has ever doubted: New York offers boundless opportunities to shop. As a friend from the Big Apple told me, “The only real difference between a human being and other mammals is our ability to accessorize.”

JAMES ESTRIN/THE NEW YORK TIMES/REDUX
This pin was made from fragments of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the year the Wall was brought down.
Berlin Wall, Gisela Geiger.

BPA, FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY
Surrounded by men at a meeting of the Group of Eight (G-8) Foreign Ministers. In the pin below, which represents the G-8, gender is not an issue.

I had expected my initial Security Council meeting to be in the huge room with the horseshoe table that is frequently seen on television, but that chamber is generally reserved for formal sessions. The space used for routine meetings—where much of the real work is done—was no bigger than the college seminar rooms I had just left. The similarity reminded me of what I had frequently told my female students: Do not be afraid to interrupt. A woman usually prefers to size up a situation before speaking, but for America’s UN ambassador, silence was not an option. So I squeezed my way into the cramped space, sat down, and, when the opportunity arose, plunged in.

BPA, FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY
G-8 pin, designer unknown.

From that day forward, I attracted attention because I represented the United States and was the only woman on the Council. With so many eyes on me, I didn’t want to worry about my appearance. This prompted me to pay added heed to how I looked and gradually to acquire new pins to make my clothes more interesting. Because every activity at the United Nations has a political aspect, one of my signature themes was Americana.

New York’s famed Pier Antiques Show is held periodically on the far West Side of midtown, in a sprawling building overlooking
the Hudson River. Collectors and dealers from around the world are on hand, and whenever I could arrange my schedule, so was I. For seekers of high-quality costume jewelry, this was the equivalent of the Promised Land. Amid the crowd of shoppers, I moved from booth to booth, looking, touching, inquiring about prices, and—as one quickly learns to do in New York—using my elbows. One year, after surveying my options, I selected an eagle brooch manufactured by the distinguished American firm Trifari; it was enameled in red, white, and blue and set with rhinestones. Nearby, I came across an Uncle Sam’s hat, also by Trifari, in a similar style. Both were made of enameled metal, and both dated from the 1940s. Either seemed suitable for America’s UN ambassador, but I found the best effect came when I wore the two together, with the hat tilted at a rakish angle, seemingly atop the eagle’s head.