On of my secret favorite things about both debate and politics is that I get to look pretty to participate. I suppose, technically, I have to look pretty, but dressing up has never really been an issue for me. Truth be told, I feel stronger, smarter, and more special when I’m dressed the part.

I love prancing down the hall at the Capitol or swaggering up to check postings in by sexy-cheerleader-intern skirt and a tight blue button-up. My perfect black kitten heels (having accompanied me across the country several times and now to South America) click in rhythm with my swinging pleats, and people look at me like they’re practicing synchronized swimming with my fluid outfit. I slide on my charcoal peacoat to return to campus or scamper to a round, feeling like a professional princess. Add a crown, and I’m confident I could rule the world.