Running Point Attempts to Resurrect the Girlboss

If it’s true that the girlboss is dead, no one gave Mindy Kaling the memo.

Consider Running Point, Kaling’s newest Netflix sitcom: the lovechild of Succession and Ted Lasso, with all the delusion of Emily in Paris and the white feminism of Sophia Amoruso’s “Girlboss.” Kate Hudson stars as Isla Gordon, the Shiv Roy in her family of ambitious, basketball-obsessed, mildly inept brothers. When her eldest sibling and president of the family-operated, fictional NBA team, the Los Angeles Waves (Justin Theroux) gets caught up with his drug addiction, he appoints Hudson as his replacement. Cue the She.E.O catchphrases, office power plays, glass ceilings (both literal and metaphorical), and a heaping dose of Hallmark-style messaging about toxic masculinity.

As we’ve come to expect from the Mindy Kaling Cinematic Universe (The Mindy Project, Never Have I Ever, The Sex Lives of College Girls), the clothes are as over-the-top as the storylines. Patterns are big. Skirts are small. Colours are vivid, verging on neon. If Succession’s style was about restraint, then Running Point’s is about excess — at least, in the first few episodes. But as the series progresses, just like Isla, the costumes undergo a transformation. They, too, get a little more understated and a lot less obvious.

When we first meet Isla, she’s a walking disaster (though, naturally, Kate Hudson still manages to look flawless). A former party girl, Playboy model, and impulsive bride, she’s the family screw-up, the one Daddy never bothered to acknowledge. In a desperate bid to get her life together, her older brother tosses her a low-level job at the Waves. Cut to a car crash and a visit to rehab, and she’s now the boss.

So, what’s her first public look as president? A pink pantsuit, of course! The sacred power dressing uniform of every girlboss wannabe of 2015. As Brenda Song, who plays her assistant, so helpfully points out: “You can never f*ck up…Women have to be perfect right off the bat.” Isla’s loud pink suit is a declaration. She’s a woman in a man’s world; the matriarch of a patriarchy; a pop of pink in a sea of blue. It’s an obvious choice, but that’s the point — Isla is leaning into her outsider status. She knows she doesn’t belong, and instead of fitting in, she’s shouting her empowerment through the loudest, brightest, most stereotypical symbols of girlboss culture.

And that continues for a few episodes. In fact, one would argue that she comes in even hotter, as proved by the attention-grabbing separates she continues to wear. In episode two, it’s a very graphic houndstooth skirt set. In episode three, it’s a butter yellow blazer and trousers. In multiple episodes, sheer fabrics and leather are involved. She’s loud, bold and unapologetic, and the thinking seems to be “if everyone’s already looking at me, I might as well give them something to look at.” It’s a performance: fake it til you make it, personified in her take on power dressing.

But as Isla gains confidence and racks up wins, her need to overcompensate starts to fade. As the Waves actually start winning and Sephora-level sponsors jump on board, she no longer feels the need to defend her position. The girlboss armour comes off — and suddenly, Isla doesn’t need to shout to be heard. Now, she just is. And what does just Isla look like? Well, a little like Hailey Bieber, actually.

By episode eight, Isla’s wardrobe shift is evident. Her suits get quieter. The colours calm down. The silhouettes feel less like performance art and more like personal style. There’s a stunning beige pinstripe suit, begging to be worn with a tie — think Bieber in the boardroom. Another moment brings a sharp black dress with white and gold accents, exuding understated elegance.

And then, in the season finale, Isla wears a blush-coloured suit. It’s a nod to the pink of her girlboss beginnings, but now, it’s a symbol of her personal growth. She’s led the team to the playoffs, bonded with players and coaches, and proven her worth. But more importantly, she’s found her true place — and she doesn’t need to shout to be heard anymore. She’s “girlbossed” on her own terms.

So where does that leave Isla at the end of the season? Well, with no confirmation of a Running Point season two yet, we can only guess. But if the finale is any indication, her journey is far from over. What’s clear is that she’s ready for the next phase of her career and, of course, she’s got the clothes to match.