The body politic is composed of those who value communal need over self-interest. Similarly— the politician’s wife, a delicate feline, tip-toes on the heels of contractual companionship and compulsory agreeability. Candidly— no woman wants to be a plain enough Jane, caught serving brandy and port to fine laws and even finer men, forfeiting the whims of a contemporary Elizabeth. Simply— a politician's wife is a mythical beast, settled between the pressure cooker of age and patriarchal distaste and when they gather to send off their statesmen to engage in intellectual defeat, light permeates their Regency gowns, reflecting bitter moods off neighboring parasols and shining cufflinks. I envy them.
