Why a black first lady is a marketing gold mine.

Semiotics brand analyst Scott Hamrah says we can expect to see more faces like Obama's in mainstream catalogs not because she's exotic to Americans, but because she's just the opposite. "It's about restoring normalcy to the mainstream. Michelle Obama is an avatar of our desire to be normal again," he says, pointing out that the Obamas have redefined normal to include smart, middle-class black people. He argues that her race grounds her in authenticity. "Being black is equated with being real," he says. "Black people are more authentic than white people for various reasons, but primarily because they've suffered more. So it makes sense that in a time that not only wants to return to normal but also wants to emphasize realness and expects to be suffering a lot, that this nation should have a black first lady, that only a black first lady could be the next Eleanor Roosevelt." Though one, of course, with better fashion sense.

At Just Ask a Woman, strategic marketing consultant Mary Lou Quinlan says it's a no-brainer that Michelle Obama is a fashion phenomenon. Women have been telling Quinlan for ages that that they crave an authentic alternative to the perfection parade of models and celebrities that has ruled our culture for too long. "Look at her!" she says. "She's fit, and not because she's a gift of nature; she has to work out in the context of working and taking care of her kids. Good taste is coming from her, not because she's being dressed by somebody. She's the epitome of how most women wish they looked—that their clothes were a natural reflection of their real lives at their best. It doesn't feel artificial." In interviewing female consumers in this tanking economy, Quinlan has learned that women want to dial back their rampant, luxury-obsessed spending and "grow up" when it comes to shopping. "And Michelle is a grown-up woman—someone who knows herself. That's what we want now," she says.

*Correction, Nov. 14, 2008: This piece originally stated that only three African-American women had been on the cover of Vogue. That number is actually four. The article originally omitted model Beverly Johnson.