The hoisting of the sleeves announces that the candidate has come to speak the truth, both plainly and earnestly. He has stripped himself of the formality associated with blazers, suits and navy gabardine. By the nakedness of his forearms he has rendered the setting informal and he is announcing to the audience that it will be treated to unscripted responses, sincerity and ultimately the real man. The pushed-up sleeves are the fashion equivalent of the knowing wink, the two-handed handshake and all of those other gestures intended to make a stranger feel like an old pal. In its purest form, sleeve-rolling is an artifice that declares the candidate is average, never mind that the point of all of his back-patting, chili-eating and speech-making is to convince folks that he is better than average.
Howard Dean doesn't merely push his sleeves up or neatly fold them above the wrists. His sleeves are rolled tightly beyond his elbows and onto his biceps, the cuffs practically twisted into tourniquets. They are rolled into such a wrinkled mess that there clearly is no expectation that they will ever have to come down. Accompanied by a knotted tie and a facial expression bordering on hostility, the pushed-up sleeves suggest that Dean is readying himself for a fight. If the presidential race were a bar brawl, he'd be asking the other contenders whether they wanted to "take it outside."
In contrast, when John Kerry was speaking to students at Boston University this week, he wore an understated plaid shirt, with an open collar and gently folded-back sleeves. He looked as though he might be welcoming a group of summer interns to a catered backyard barbeque during which he will offer a treatise on his political philosophy. There may be a pop quiz over the apple pie.
And for candidates Wesley Clark, John Edwards, Dick Gephardt, Joe Lieberman and Dennis Kucinich, the styling flourish belies military service or a hardscrabble childhood and makes them look like the sort of professional men who call themselves handy because they took a plunger to a stopped-up toilet before they left for the office.
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http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A37141-2003Dec4.html