Friday, June 20, 2014
Fresh To Death
When I examined myself in the mirror this morning, the song "Mannish Girl" popped into my head. Actually, I look more "boyish" than "mannish", and even that could be considered a stretch. Pink lipstick and the enamel rose belt buckle function as indicators of femininity. My facial composition and hips conform to the set of shapes that society categorizes as "female".
Fashion has a messy, inextricable relationship with gender expression. Consider how unusual it is to see an American man wearing a skirt. I'm not talkin' Utilikilts--no, something frilly and flowy. Any guy wearing that would be shunned or ridiculed. In fact, transgender people who don't resemble the stereotypical mold associated with "man" or "woman" are routinely harassed. The unfunny fashion police prevent safety in public restrooms.
Normally the way I dress is unambiguously ladylike, because that's the aesthetic I gravitate toward. Going a little more butch felt strange, although not unpleasant, and the new sensation caused me to reflect on social justice in the paragraphs above.
Now look at the cool thing the wind did to my hair!
MWAH! Closing note: the title of this post comes from Lana Del Rey's "Blue Jeans".