MICHELLE OBAMA WROTE THE BOOK ON POWER DRESSING—LITERALLY

Ever since she became First Lady in 2009—a role she held for two terms—Michelle Obama and her right-hand stylist, Meredith Koop, have set the stage for what a powerful leader should look—and dress—like. Together, they turned the East Wing into a runway of quiet rebellion and thoughtful restraint, proving that fashion can be as articulate as any speech. It was only a matter of time, then, before a collection of images documenting their countless sartorial wins would be released into the world. And now, that collection is here.

Michelle Obama brought more than policy proposals and public goodwill to the White House. She brought cardigans, sleeveless dresses, and a crash course in how to survive when your body, your hair, and your wardrobe are treated as a referendum.

And her new book, The Look, revisits those years through the language of clothing. It’s part memoir, part mood board, part masterclass in diplomacy through dressing. The project might seem surface-level to the uninitiated—pretty fabrics, famous designers, viral moments—but it’s actually an excavation of image management under a microscope. Michelle knew that every public appearance was a test: how to be relatable but aspirational, powerful but not threatening, fashionable but not vain. And no syllabus could've prepare her for that.

An Evening at BAM.

Last week, I got to celebrate the book in person with Michelle Obama at a live taping of her podcast IMO with Michelle Obama & Craig Robinson. Held at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) and moderated by the always hilarious Tracee Ellis Ross, the conversation revolved around Michelle’s style evolution—from her early days on the campaign trail, to becoming First Lady, and on to what her life looks like now. Naturally, she looked fabulous.

Fans packed BAM’s Howard Gilman Opera House after purchasing copies of The Look at 50 bucks a pop (What recession?) and jamming to an array of bops from D’Angelo to Jay-Z to OutKast—anxiously snapping selfies while waiting for the stylish duo to hit the stage.

The double Ivy League graduate and distinguished attorney has already penned multiple books that topped The New York Times bestsellers list. Her 2018 memoir Becoming achieved record-breaking sales. Her follow-up, The Light We Carry, was also critically acclaimed, as was her debut American Grown. Visually, The Look—a stunning coffee table tome—is a departure from her previous titles. It contains more than 200 photographs, including never-before-seen images that capture the wife and mom’s personal style journey.

What was the catalyst for this type of book? Why now? As the conversation unfolded, Michelle revealed to a rapt audience how her entire life led to The Look, and how all of us (yes, you too!) have a distinct story behind our personal style choices that are much deeper than clothes and hairdos.

Looking the picture of elegance in a black Loewe dress with vibrant pink and yellow accents, her thick, shoulder-length loose curls styled with a middle part, Michelle shared how her fashion sense started during her humble Chi-Town beginnings. The lewks she witnessed as a young girl watching Soul Train on Saturday mornings left a significant impression on her, as did the slightly older trendsetting teenage girls she saw in her South Shore neighborhood. She even admits to going through a tomboy phase, thanks in part to her beloved older brother, Craig.

Michelle then reflects on how both of her parents instilled confidence in her from a young age, which unquestionably informs her style sensibility to this day. But it was her mother, Mrs. Marian Robinson, who passed away in 2024, whom Michelle spoke most about influencing her personal style as a youngster and even well into her teenage years. Her resourceful mom dutifully sewed many of her clothes.

But as we fast forward to her time in time in the White House, when Tracee asked the former First Lady how she managed to stay camera-ready despite the unprecedented scrutiny, Michelle gave all the credit to her longtime wardrobe stylist, Meredith Koop, a then-green, extremely savvy, 28-year-old who hit the ground running, combining intense cultural research, nods to Americana, and one accessory Michelle never lacks: a sense of humor.

You Should Never View Your Challenges as a Disadvantage.

To understand the brilliance of Michelle’s style choices, you have to first understand the scrutiny. Every woman in politics gets measured by how she looks. The first Black woman in the role? She got measured and weighed. Her arms were too toned. Her skirts too fitted. Her hair too casual. Her heels too high. Every outfit carried the potential to spark a national debate on respectability, race, and womanhood.

That kind of attention could flatten a person—or make her very, very strategic. Michelle chose the latter. She understood that “what to wear” wasn’t a question about taste but about power: how to occupy space in rooms not built for you without disappearing into them. When she wore Jason Wu to the inaugural ball, it wasn’t just a fashion moment—it was a soft declaration of youth and possibility. When she appeared in J. Crew cardigans on The View, it was a wink at middle-class accessibility. Every piece carried intent.

It’s tempting to dismiss this as image management, but that ignores the tightrope she and Meredith walked. For eight years, Michelle had to be both the most photographed woman in the world and the least allowed to make a misstep. Fashion became her armor and her amplifier.

Part of her genius was her ability to read a room before she ever entered it. When she appeared on the campaign trail in 2008, critics branded her “angry” and “intimidating.” By 2009, she’d recalibrated—less power suit, more power cardigan. She replaced severity with warmth, weaponizing approachability. Even her choice to wear bright colors and prints was intentional: a direct rebuttal to the stereotype that professionalism equals restraint.

There’s a reason Michelle’s wardrobe worked: it told a story of democracy. She mixed established couture houses with up-and-coming American designers, many of them people of color. She wore Naeem Khan to state dinners and Target dresses on Late Night with David Letterman. She made Prabal Gurung a household name. And made it clear it wasn’t about price tags; it was about messaging.

And yet, she always left room for personality. A swingy skirt at a garden event. A sleeveless sheath at a STEM conference. Those details mattered. They reminded the country that a Black woman could embody elegance without apology. They also infuriated the people who wanted her covered, muted, and deferential. Which was, in its own way, the point.

There’s Power in Owning Your Unique Story.

The irony of Michelle Obama’s relationship with fashion is that she never wanted to be known for it. She’s a Princeton and Harvard educated lawyer who, she jokes, happened to marry someone with political ambitions. Yet the minute she stepped into the White House, the narrative shifted from “policy partner” to “style icon.” In The Look, she wrestles with that—how to honor the joy of fashion without becoming trapped by it.

Her reflections feel especially poignant in a time when “political wife” imagery is fractured across party lines. While other first ladies leaned on nostalgia or nationalism, Michelle leaned into modernity. Her wardrobe felt fresh, global, and yes, aspirational. And that aspirational quality matters, especially for young Black girls who had never seen someone like her in that role, commanding the world stage with grace and audacity. For them, seeing her in custom Christopher John Rogers or Sergio Hudson wasn’t just pretty—it was proof.

The Look itself feels like a continuation of her fashion philosophy: accessible, generous, and pointed. It’s filled with photographs and commentary that double as cultural documentation. She doesn’t just catalog designers; she contextualizes them. She names the Black women who did her hair, the stylists who fought for her vision, the White House protocol she had to outmaneuver to be seen and not just looked at.

Michelle Obama understood almost immediately what so many underestimated: fashion isn’t a frivolous distraction from power. It is power—especially when you're the first Black First Lady of the United States.