Purse Politics - Tote and Vote - NYTimes.com WASHINGTON - Senator Amy Klobuchar, Democrat of Minnesota, was sitting in her large, sunny office recently, riffling through the contents of her black leather purse. After several moments, she laughed and produced a neon-pink earplug. "Here's an earplug from the helicopter," she said, still searching through the bag she had bought from Ilze Heider Leather Design in Lanesboro, Minn. That is not a normal thing that a woman might have in her purse. That is a military earplug from a Blackhawk. Ms. Klobuchar had just returned from a national security trip and was in the middle of what she jokingly said was a "post-recess-organize-the-purse-mode," transferring the contents of a brown leather backpack that she had carried on her Middle East tour into her everyday carryall. The Congress of yore might conjure images of spittoons and old male politicians with briefcases, but the 113th has ushered in a historic number of women - 20 in the Senate, and 81 in the House - and with them a historic number of handbags. In some ways, the female legislator's purse or bag has become one of the most outwardly physical manifestations of the nation's changing deliberative body. "What a woman senator slings over her shoulder is the next tangible and Technicolor proof of how the esteemed body has changed and is changing," said Tracy Sefl, a Democratic strategist. Today's purses and bags are as new and interesting of a visual as the red power suit once was. They pop on the C-Span cameras, they serve a purpose and - intentionally or not - they make a statement. Or, as Bethany Lesser, a press secretary to Senator Kirsten E. Gillibrand, Democrat of New York, pointed out, "The cloakroom is no longer just for coats." Margaret Thatcher, the first female prime minister of Britain, wielded her handbag like a cudgel, a potent mix of femininity and her famed iron will. To be "handbagged" by Ms. Thatcher even became a verb, well known to rivals, journalists and political bumblers alike who all found themselves ruthlessly dismissed by her when they displeased her. In 2000, a black Salvatore Ferragamo bag of hers sold at a London charity auction for roughly $130,000. But until recently, at least, Ms. Thatcher's ability to elevate her purse into an object of both fame and fear was the exception. For many female politicians, a purse was seen as more of a nuisance and even a possible sign of weakness; Geraldine A. Ferraro, the first female vice-presidential nominee for a major political party, garnered attention for the mere act of handing her pocketbook to an aide before she took the podium. "Historically, bags were, quite literally, unwanted baggage in the halls of Congress and Parliament," Robb Young, the author of "Power Dressing: First Ladies, Women Politicians and Fashion," wrote by e-mail. On the HBO series "Veep," the general absence of a purse is even a punch line: Julia Louis-Dreyfus instead relies on an aide, who carries around his own giant bag (nicknamed the Leviathan), so he is always ready with eyedrops, lipstick or even a Fig Newton. But Hillary Rodham Clinton, who has been much scrutinized over the years for her pantsuits and her changing hairstyles, professed her love of a great handbag in a 2011 interview with Harper's Bazaar. "I have this Ferragamo hot-pink bag that I adore," she told the magazine. I mean, how can you be unhappy if you pick up a big pink bag? Many female politicians, though, would prefer to tout practicality over labels. "Frankly, my purse selection is more about utilitarian than how it looks," said Senator Claire McCaskill, Democrat of Missouri, explaining that her bags are always "big enough to carry one or two iPads, an Air book, a Hotspot, and a little bit of extra reading for irritating times I have to turn off my devices when we take off and land." "I think most of us, while we may look at the cute little purses, our lives don't fit a cute little purse," she said. Our lives fit something that is in between a purse and a briefcase, and that's what I carry. Their bag, female lawmakers said, might help add a splash of fun and fashion to what can be a tedious daily routine. But it must befit a member of Congress. Meaning: appropriately modest. Even the classic Birkin, for instance, would likely draw unwanted attention to its owner because of its five-figure price tag. "There's no magic formula, because looking glamorous or elegant for some political women in certain circumstances can be an advantage, while looking more demure, matronly or even dowdy can be an advantage for others," said Mr. Young, the author. The one universal rule, he said, is "being able to anticipate what a broad base of her constituents find appropriate and authoritative while still looking distinctive."