I was at a gathering this evening where there were many ladies. Gazing around the room for a bit, I realized there was a pattern that connected many of these women. Most of these women.
It was this:
The smock-like shapeless, patterned blouse.
I understand the covering of the face, but the smiles? Ladies you have nothing to smile about. Those shapeless smock shirts are bringing you down. They are bringing our whole gender down, robbing us of any semblance of some of the best things that makes us women. They steal away shape, sensuality, natural feminine lines. They replace these with stripey lines in aqua, lavender and ecru. Try as you like to make these look fun in this picture – and as models you are working for a living. I can respect that. But you’re making this appealing to someone – not just someone….a roomful of women apparently. And they are buying it.
The more I looked around the room, the more I realised that all of the smock-shirt wearing ladies were of a similar age. An age not that far off mine, really. That’s when I began to sweat a bit. These are smart women – thinking women. And yet here they sit, in the smock-like stripey blouse. I am a smart woman, a thinking woman. How did the smock-like stripey shirt get past them? If it got past them, surely it will be able to steal past me. Will the day come when I am in a changing room, running my hand over the shiny synthetic surface of the dart-free, pleat-free, shape-free front of a blouse that is obscuring the very thought of me having breasts, thinking “This will do”? Will my will to be a woman ease out of my pores like a final, dying gasp?*
When that day comes – and judging by the numbers in that room it is coming – just put me out to pasture on a cruise ship somewhere, won’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll have picked up a set or two of these:
Christ I just hope I can muster up a smile.
*Yes, I may have slightly overstated the many complex things that constitute being a woman. You may take that as a measure of my fear of the smock-like stripey shirt.