If I was elected leader of the free world I'd buy many $12,495 jackets – Hillary Clinton should follow my lead

I’d be tempted to buy two dozen identical Prada work-wear frocks in industrial slate grey, then wear them brazenly, indistinguishably and without comment, for my entire four year term of office

'Clothes maketh a man, but Christ alive, good tailoring maketh a woman' (AP)

Hillary Clinton wearing a $12,495 Armani jacket during a speech about inequality is a dumb political move. But I understand entirely how this happened.

Clinton would be stymied by a jam-packed schedule featuring dozens of outfit changes, plus the double-bind that female politicians who seem unconcerned by high-gloss are thought of as stubbly-armpitted hags, while the moment they enjoy a blow-dry and a Net-a-Porter delivery they are shallow, spendthrift dolly birds squeaking “let them eat cake” at the bedraggled masses.

Clinton’s real dilemma would be facing that sumptuous $12,495 Armani dog-tooth jacket in mauve and cream, sitting neatly on a rail in a green-room; that jacket, chosen by a stylist to compliment her skin tones, makes her eyes “pop”, lengthen her calves and shout “I mean business.”

Yes, clothes maketh a man, but Christ alive, good tailoring maketh a woman.

It’s a painfully principled broad who would say, "this makes me feel like the next leader of the free world, but do we not have anything cheaper-looking?” Still, hand that bloody jacket back, Clinton should have done.

It’s not that I’m a fulsome fan girl of Clinton, but, like many people, I would welcome her as incoming President of the United States over Donald Trump. Like many people, now that the joke of Trump as nominee has soured, I’d prefer a piss-mildewed pig’s bladder stapled to a Swingball pole in charge over him. It would just feel safer.

And yes, the American political landscape can survive without my piping hot from-the-Aga takes. But the thought of choking to death in a post-Armageddon stratospheric smoke layer 40 minutes after this buffoon is handed the nuclear codes makes me weary. Hillary Clinton cannot mess this up.

Notably, Trump’s choice of outfit is never, ever scrutinized – although he achieved this by creating a hairstyle which mankind finds so indefatigably mirth-making that none of us have glanced below his neckline since 1997.

While Trump promises to make America great again, Clinton is speaking vociferously of “reducing inequality” while wearing a coat worth around two-thirds of a US fast food worker’s annual wage. It’s an open goal.

It’s superfluous to fact if the coat was loaned temporarily to Clinton by a willing fashion PR, as is very often the case with high-profile political figures; or if it was given to her by the designer as a gift – again, commonplace; or if it was sold to her for a fraction of the price in return for publicity.

Only a tiny proportion of onlookers are prepared to accept or comprehend such explanations. The remainder will quack and splutter at your capriciousness and your brass neck.

Our very own Duchess of Cambridge has the world’s fashion houses slavering to give her pretty frocks and power-pieces, but due to the aforementioned rules she must schlep around in Banana Republic and Zara. Some days, the only thing saving the House of Windsor from going the same way as their Russia’s Nicholas II and his brood is that Kate Middleton doesn’t mind “recycling a Topshop smock dress” when dispatched to the provinces to shake hands.

My advice to Clinton would be to buy off the peg mom-brand clothes from JC Penney and then have them tailored secretly to a waspish standard. Idiotically time consuming, yes, but at least Clinton can address Wichita soccer moms on the matter of minimum wage in a pair of Liz Claiborne trousers worth $40 dollars.

More extremely, Clinton could create a daily ”uniform”, like Steve Jobs did with his polo neck and jeans combo, and Mark Zuckerberg in his trademark grey tee.

Tech watchers cited Jobs’ choice to own umpteen identical turtle necks, jeans and New Balance trainers as a rejection of stuffy corporate formality in favour of a fresh, groovy, streamlined school of commerce – but I disagree. Jobs’ refusal to care whether idle onlookers wondered if he was perhaps mad, forgetful, grimly frugal, or merely a man who wore whiffy jeans, was the outward reflection of a disconcerting cerebral powerhouse.

If it was me – if I was elected as POTUS – I’d be tempted to buy two dozen identical Prada work-wear frocks in industrial slate grey, then wear them brazenly, indistinguishably and without comment, for my entire four-year term of office.

So perhaps Clinton could say boo to all this and celebrate her fresh success in the presidential race by actually purchasing many very expensive jackets. She is, after all, the first ever female presidential candidate in history. Let’s enjoy watching her make some new rules.