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"On the best shows now, the outfits don&amp;#x27;t make the woman. The woman makes the woman. And Orange Is the New Black is proof. Here&amp;#x27;s why. Women love clothes. Women loved Sex and the City. And women really loved the clothes on Sex and the City. But the show led to one major misconception. It made some people in the TV industry think that women couldn&amp;amp;#8217;t love shows that didn&amp;amp;#8217;t feature major fashion. Consider what happened when SATC ended. The O.C. and Gossip Girl, legitimately good shows, usurped SATC&amp;amp;#8217;s place atop the TV-fashion pyramid with their to-die-for teen closets&amp;amp;#133;and then things went downhill. It seemed as if every new female-fronted program, good or bad&amp;amp;#8212;from Lipstick Jungle to Good Christian Bitches&amp;amp;#8212;tried to reel us in with glitzy wardrobes alone. But all the Chanel flower pins in the world couldn&amp;amp;#8217;t save those shows from cancellation. They lacked what women actually want: great characters and quality stories, heel height be damned. Which brings us to Orange Is the New Black, the Netflix show that sucked in female viewers with a force only a network exec could dream of, a show about women that happens to be set in prison, where everyone wears, well, not orange, actually, but worse: beige. Shapeless polyester beige. The look isn&amp;amp;#8217;t low-maintenance (beachy waves are low-maintenance); it&amp;amp;#8217;s anti-maintenance, as the geniuses behind the show can attest. Wardrobe head Jennifer Rogien orders uniforms from a prison supplier, then stonewashes them the right number of times for the character&amp;amp;#8217;s sentence. Even the underwear is dowdy: &amp;amp;#8220;Let&amp;amp;#8217;s just say the bras aren&amp;amp;#8217;t underwire,&amp;amp;#8221; Rogien says with a laugh. The beauty styling is similarly backward: &amp;amp;#8220;Anything that&amp;amp;#8217;s been in fashion in the past 20 years&amp;amp;#8221; is off-limits, says makeup artist Michal Bigger. We&amp;amp;#8217;re a long way from Carrie&amp;amp;#8217;s tutus and curls. But styleless Orange is the ultimate proof that women choose story first and foremost, since the show&amp;amp;#8217;s captivating relationships have reeled us in nonetheless. And it&amp;amp;#8217;s not alone: On House of Cards, The Good Wife, and Scandal, the outfits are high-end and beautiful but functional first. (Olivia Pope&amp;amp;#8217;s suits are still, well, suits. Back on SATC, Samantha Jones was fixing PR crises in plunging Versace!) Even the shows with great style are down-to-earth; New Girl and The Mindy Project are full of cute outfits that are often surprisingly attainable. I once googled a tartan coat of Mindy Lahiri&amp;amp;#8217;s, hoping to find a cheaper version for myself. Turns out, it was under $100, and I added it to my cart. What a rush! Of course, we love a great fashion moment, but the real reason I wanted Mindy&amp;amp;#8217;s coat is because her confidence is so inspiring. She wore it well. From Orange to Scandal, it&amp;amp;#8217;s no longer what&amp;amp;#8217;s hanging in an actor&amp;amp;#8217;s dressing room that defines her character&amp;amp;#8212;it&amp;amp;#8217;s her personality, quirks, charm, and, yes, criminal history that define her in her clothing. That&amp;amp;#8217;s the new black. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.glamour.com/entertainment/blogs/obsessed/2014/06/megan-tv-column-oitnb>