This is completely unfair, wildly speculative, and based on absolutely no confirmed information whatsoever. But this morning, I found myself wondering what it actually takes to get Donald Trump ready for the day. I know. Who cares? But honestly I think it reflects something more about his ‘team.’
Because we all have a routine. There was a time in my life when mine involved very little more than water, optimism, and a questionable level of self confidence. Now it involves lighting, negotiation, and occasionally just deciding it’s not worth the effort. But this feels like something else entirely. This feels like a production.
I’m assuming it starts with the tan. And I say that as someone who didn’t just try QT tanning lotion in high school, but fully committed to it as a look. Not for a week. For a stretch. Long enough that people from back then may still be recovering from the visual. Bright, unapologetic and slightly alarming under fluorescent lighting.
You would think that in the almost half century since, they would have refined the tanning formula. And yet here we are. So I have questions. Is it applied the night before. Is there a moment in the morning where someone steps back and says yes, that’s the exact shade of late summer citrus we’re going for today. Is there a stopping point, or is it more of a we’ve come this far, why not push the colour correction a little more.
From there, I imagine they move into concealment. Not politically. That comes later. I mean the practical side. The careful editing of what the public sees and what gets quietly blended into the background. Cover-up on the backs of hands, necks etc. The kind of work designed to hold up under lights, cameras, and a level of scrutiny most people will never experience.
Then we arrive at the hair. And I’m going to be honest, I do not want to ever see it in its natural state. Some things in life are better left unexplained. Because that is not a hairstyle. That is infrastructure. That is long term planning. Multiple lengths of hair entering into a strategic alliance, each with a specific role, all working together toward a common objective that no one fully understands. This morning in particular, it looked bigger. Softer. Like it had entered a kind of atmospheric phase, not sitting on the head so much as hovering above it.
And then, of course, the suit. Somewhere between Pete Hegseth’s slightly too small and Donald Trump’s significantly too large, there appears to be a shared belief that tailoring is more of a suggestion than a requirement. There is speculation around what might be covered by the poorly fitted suit, but I’ll leave that part alone.
And then, fully assembled, out he goes. To speak with absolute certainty, even when that certainty has a lifespan of about five minutes. Donald Trump can deliver a statement with complete conviction and then quietly replace it with a different version before the first one has even had time to settle. Positions shift, stories evolve and facts bend.
And that’s where this starts to land differently. Because I’ll be the first to admit I don’t look in the mirror as often as I used to. Age has a way of negotiating that relationship for you. But when I do, I recognize what’s there. Because a mirror has no filter and doesn’t pretend it’s something it isn’t.
And I think that’s the difference. Because surely Mar-a-Lago has mirrors. The White House certainly has mirrors. You would think somewhere in all of that space, there would be one honest moment. One real look.
But maybe that’s not how it works. Maybe the mirrors don’t matter. Maybe they’re covered. Or worse, maybe they’re surrounded by people who step in before any reflection has a chance to land and say no, no, it looks great. You look great.
Which would explain a lot. Because when the room is built on telling you everything is perfect, you stop questioning anything at all. The hair. The colour. The performance. Even when everything underneath it is shifting by the minute.
And at that point, it’s not really about aging. It’s not even about appearance.
It’s about what happens when nothing, and no one, is willing to reflect reality back to you.
Nancy's Notes 