Well, don’t that beat all. The governor buys a new shirt at L.L. Bean and it sets the State House to snickering.

Hey, look around, gentlemen. There’s much to mock; the only clothes horses stalking these halls are lobbyists.

We “enjoy,” and we use that term loosely, what’s called a citizens’ Legislature in Maine. The pay isn’t great, certainly not enough for members to afford Gucci shoes and Brooks Brothers suits.

And what would be the point? The road salt would eat those alligator-skin shoes alive, and the dog fur in the pickup would quickly make that black suit look like yellow mohair.

As a result, the members of our Legislature display a … well, eclectic style of dress, from wool blazers over plaid shirts to nylon socks tucked into Bean’s famous hunting boots.

No sense putting on airs.

But, leave it to the daring John Baldacci to upset the apple cart. In walks the Gov wearing a dark blue shirt with a … say, what IS the color of that tie? Passion fruit, perhaps?

It’s an election year, the governor has a new press secretary and, voil, he’s got a makeover. But only the governor’s enemies would dare call it that, and certainly not to his face.

The word “makeover” echoes of the awkward attempts Al Gore made to wear more earth tones to make himself seem more virile and, he hoped, appealing to women voters. And you know how well that worked.

A woman can take a chance on a wardrobe or hairstyle change in the middle of a campaign. A man, meanwhile, risks becoming a ninny and a laughingstock, and no politician can afford that.

But, when we compare the before-and-after photos, we must admit that the governor’s blue-shirt combo looks good, a refreshing change.

Now, if only he could give his Dirigo health plan a similarly successful makeover.