So it seems some people are taking issue with the decadent, black, skirt suit first lady Melania Trump wore at her husband's joint address to Congress on Tuesday night.


The skirt's hem was a respectable length. The belt on the blazer was cinched neatly at her waist. And although the tuxedo style-suit jacket featured somewhat of a plunging decolletage, no cleavage was bared.

What appears to be the issue is that the $10,000 otherwise dour skirt suit was covered in sequins.

How quaint of you, armchair fashionistas.

While it can be argued that Trump's Michael Kors ensemble might also work at a Main Line bar mitzvah -- these are my readers' words, not mine -- I didn't think there was anything wrong with some speech-appropriate sparkle. All black can be serious. But she showed serious can bedazzle, too.

In my book, that's OK, just like it was for Michelle Obama to bare her arms when she attended her husband's congressional addresses.

You think sequins are loud and gaudy?  You think they have no place in government? If you go by their shining aristocratic history, you would be wrong.

Sequins, like most royal accessories, can be traced back to ancient Egypt. In fact, according to the Smithsonian's website, when King Tut's tomb was discovered in 1922, gold, sequin-like disks were found sewn onto his royal garments.

Throughout the centuries, the glittering disks were routinely affixed to the clothing of monarchs and nobles as a sign of rank. During the 17th and 18th centuries, you might have found the elite donning daytime ensembles flush with beads, paillettes, metallic embroidery, and yes, sequins to official political functions, like court. In fact, said H. Kristina Haugland, one of the costume curators at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, men's court uniforms were decorated with all sorts of sequins and metallic embroidery.

Generally, however, by the 1920s, sequins were synonymous with evening and cocktail attire as flappers' drop-waist dresses shimmered with glitter. Thanks to the recent breakdown of sartorial conventions -- like tutus at brunch -- the idea of what's appropriate has been in flux for about 20 years. And that's an invitation for people to take chances. They match brown belts with black shoes. They wear white after Labor Day. First ladies bare enviably toned arms, and, as of Tuesday night, rock sequins at Congressional addresses.