The other side of sizeism....

I was just browsing Facebook, and came across this article I wrote in 2011, before I had a blog, after noticing the sizeism trend on that site ~ by which I mean so-called 'curvy' women being extremely rude about slim ones, and, more worrying, relating their comments to what men prefer.  

This is the picture mentioned at the beginning of the article - I just looked for it on google images

The link is HERE if you would like to read it; I've just made it public so that you can read it if you're not a Facebook friend (my profile is set to private).  Please let me know if you can't access it, it should be okay.  Thanks!

ps, I've just found the Marilyn Monroe - thin girl one, too, though looking at it now I would imagine she is obsessive about working out rather than anorexic.  Oh, and incidentally ~ a Twitter friend told me that she went to an exhibition of Marilyn's clothes once, and they were tiny.  She was only ever a size 16 occasionally; I read once that all her costumes had to be made in sizes 10-16 because her eating was so erratic.  Let us not forget that a size 10 in the 1950s would probably be a size 6 or 8 now.

Roll on October.....

Yes, some blogging subjects get done and done over and over again; there are some that make me go 'oh no not this again' every time I see them*.  I was just starting to write this when I realised that the anti-summer moan is probably a bit overdone now, too.  I am sure there are many who think, "I love summer, and I don't want to see another blog post moaning about flies and not being able to sleep at night."

Fair enough.  So I'll just stick my bit in quietly and hope it will only be read by those who agree with me!

The reasons I don't like summer

• I've just been down south for a few days, from the frozen north east where I have lived for the past 6 years.  It's always hotter down there, and we were supposed to be in the midst of a heatwave last week, were we not?  On the first evening, out with friends, I wore some of those loose patterned culotte type things that look like an above-the-knee skirt, a loose-ish top and a short sleeved shrug.  From about 7 pm onwards, I was bloody freezing.  This is my moan: you never know where you are with the weather.  If you're going out in the winter you stick on a long sleeved, not too thick top (because pubs and restaurants always have the heating on too high), a coat, and you're good to go.  In the summer, you never know how hot or cold it's going to be.  I always get it wrong.
• Those bloody late nights and early mornings.  Who really needs daylight at 10 pm?  However many sleep masks I wear, I still wake up at 5am most days.
• I can no longer wear fake tan because my husband keeps moaning about it; he says it makes the bedclothes smell horrible.  I won't sunbathe because it's a waste of time, boring, gives you skin cancer and makes you look old.  I won't use sunbeds because ditto, plus the cost.  So in summer I have to either display unsightly white limbs, or be too hot in my clothes.  Unless it's one of the cold days (see first paragraph).  This problem does not arise in the winter.  I still wince at my unsightly white limbs, but at least no-one else has to see them.  Apart from my husband, whose choice it is that they are thus.  So there.  (note from 2017: okay, I gave in.  I now have a few sunbed sessions in the summer)
• I am writing a novel, which means I need to be inside the house at my desk; I can't write in the garden (see last paragraph).  I do not want to look out of the window and feel guilty about not making the most of the weather.
• It's harder to cover your fat bits in summer clothes than in winter ones. Unless you're young and gorgeous, winter clothes are generally more flattering.
• I have very long, thick hair.  Heat makes my head sweat, which in turn makes my carefully straightened and smoothed hair look like an explosion in a mattress factory.  At the very least, it makes my fringe look silly.
• I no longer live by the sea.  I quite liked summer when I did.  Apart from the fact that I was usually at work, of course.  If I could spend summer in an idyllic sea front cottage and have nothing to do but wander aimlessly along shores and country lanes, I may like it more.
• Talking of gardens, I have to think about getting people to cut ours, something I can forget about between October and April.  Currently, the back garden is playing host to a little known jungle tribe.  Or it might be; it's so overgrown I can't tell. (Note: July 2016 ~ I have now had the whole thing gravelled.  Back and front.  Best move ever!)

Right, I think that's about it!  Feel free to add your whinges.  Or tell me I'm a moany old git and you never want to see another post complaining about summer.  For those who agree with me, please remember this:  July is much better than June.  The nights are beginning to draw in, slowly, slowly and it's another month nearer to autumn! 

*mindfulness

Excuse me while I slip into something more comfortable....

Imagine this scenario.  Hunky guy is invited back to gorgeous woman's flat after hot date.

Gorgeous Woman: Help yourself to a drink, and do excuse me while I slip into something more comfortable...

Hunky Guy: But of course!  Opens brandy bottle, smiling, thoughts of black silk and lace running through his mind.

Two minutes later, enter stage left: 
Gorgeous Woman: That's better!  Flops onto sofa.  You can pour me one of those, t0o.

Hunky Guy's mouth drops open.  Gorgeous woman wears not the black lingerie of his fantasies, but a faded AC/DC 1998 tour t-shirt with toothpaste stains down the front, and a pair of man's pyjama trousers with a hole in the knee.

~~~ 

I'm talking about Leezurewear. 

Yes, yes, I know it's spelt leisurewear.  It's just how my sister and I (and, thus, many of our friends) spell it, because we pronounce it in the American way, ie 'lee-surewear' rather than 'leh-surewear'.  Works best if you say it with an American accent, too (at least until you're comfortable with it....).  It's probably not even a real word; should it be two words?  I'll leave my proofreading sister to decide, and no doubt tell me in the comments!

I have not been guilty of the ruining a hot date scenario, but must say that one of the joys of working from home, or just not going out to work, period, is being able to wear leezurewear more often.  In fact, most of the time. 

Socially acceptable leezurewear

I have a selection of leezure trousers.  At the moment I am wearing my rather (un)fetching miscellaneous animal print ones that are too big in the arse and too long.  Until I actually got properly dressed today (at around lunch time) I was wearing them with a pink and white striped vest that I'd worn in bed the night before.  I also own some striking half-mast black velvet trews (£3.99 from Store 21 in Jarrow), and another pair of two-summers-ago blue and white flowery ones, with holes in.  These items will not necessarily be worn with anything matches them.  Because they are leezurewear, and this you wear only for comfort, not for style.  Comfort is all.

Leezurewear: see that casual fit, the ease with which the wearer stands, hand placed comfortably in pocket?

When I worked in an office, the first thing I did when I got home was to get into my old faithfuls, waiting for me upstairs.  The office in which I worked was not one of those that required me to wear anything too smart, but I still had to look respectable.  I went to work dressed in flattering trousers and some sort of smart top, a conscious choice based on aesthetics, unlike the clothes I put on when I got home, which would be ill-fitting, ill matched, and with coffee stains down the front within an hour or so of putting them on (whether I'd drunk coffee or not, it seemed).  

There are different grades of leezurewear.  My sister and I have a name for the one in between at-home-only disgusting garments, and work clothes:  this is socially acceptable leezurewear.  It might be smart leggings and a huge but presentable t-shirt.  Or a natty hat, as worn by actor Josh Holloway, below.  In SAL, you can go shopping, receive visitors, even go to the pub if there is not likely to be anyone in there who you want to impress.   

Actor Josh Holloway models socially acceptable leezurewear

True leezurewear, though, is so unfetching that you can only wear it at home and in the company of friends.  The garments that have become as much part of you as your skin, that you can only wear in front of very close friends, and definitely not in front of someone you might want to have sex with in the future, unless they already love you very much (and even then it might be best not to).  

I'm talking the truly appalling trousers with the holes in the crotch, the once bright yellow band t-shirt that you found you know not where, sporting curious stains that will never quite come out.  
 
My best ever leezure item was a velour jumper bought from a charity shop in Cromer for £1.99.  On a cost-per-wear basis, I probably got 3287 wears per penny out of my black velour jumper.  I had it for around 8 years.  By the time Julia told me I really ought to throw it away (I needed telling), it was so worn out you could actually see through the front of it.

It was a sad day indeed.  Julia used to have a garment we called her David Lee Roth trousers (I can't remember why); they lived with her for about 20 years.  I think at one time they had patches on the back and crotch, and the knees were more hole than trouser.  I don't think she ever got over losing them; not even the size 18-20 jogging bottoms she bought from Cromer Indoor Market (she is a size 10-12) could replace them.

Years ago, on MySpace, I had a photo album on my profile entitled 'My friends in their leezurewear'.  My online and real life chums used to send me pictures of themselves in their favourite items, fully annotated to point out particularly alluring features like baggy knees and embarrassing holes.  It was a good album!  I wish I still had all the pictures; I could have shown you the black velour jumper in all its grisly glory.  

What are your most beloved (and possibly disgusting) items?  The best leezurewear is often appropriated rather than bought.  Back in the early 1990s Julia had a fab t-shirt that an ex-boyfriend of her flatmate had left behind.  It was one of those that was good quality originally, probably why it was such a pleasure to wear.  I then nicked it off her and wore it for many years; I loved it.  It disappeared along with another boyfriend.  I wonder if it's been passed on to anyone else?  There was nothing particularly noticeable about it, it was just great leezurewear.

Me wearing the t-shirt owned by many, in 1996, sporting it in the socially acceptable way, ie, tucked in to still comfortable denim shorts.  It was subsequently stolen by the soon to become ex who took this picture.  Perhaps he only wanted me for the t-shirt in the first place.

.... and now we come to the downside of wearing comfortable clothes because you are at home all the time.  After a while, it becomes really hard to wear anything else.  I do put reasonable clothes on, and make-up and earrings, just to nip to the shops, because if I didn't I would end up looking like a bag lady all the time instead of just 80% of it.  But even then, my respectable clothes are things with stretchy waistbands, no heels, nothing that might be any effort to wear.  This is partly because being at home all the time, sitting down at a laptop, means that wearing shorts like the ones in the picture above is now but a faded, distant memory.  Yes, another downside: when you don't have to make yourself look good for work every day you don't notice when your clothes are getting, shall we say, a little more snug, until you have to actually go somewhere looking proper smart.  That's when you look in the mirror and gasp "where the hell did all that come from???" 

Never mind, though.  You only have to endure looking smart for a few hours, with that held in stomach, being careful not to slosh red wine down your top, etc, and then you can come home, tear all those once-every-six-months clothes off and .... get back into your leezurewear...

...just like actor Josh Holloway... now there's a man who looks like he knows how to stay comfortable....!!

 

 

 

You are what you.... wear!

This morning I was going out shopping, dressed in summery patterned trousers, suede ankle boots, and an oversized, hooded (and rather scruffy) sweatshirt belonging to my husband.  He said to me, "You look as though you're on the way home from Glastonbury".  It occurred to me that perhaps, mentally, I am always on the way home from Glastonbury - the Glastonbury of 20 years ago, anyway (older person getting sniffy about how such events aren't what they used to be!).  

On the way home from Glastonbury, 1993!

Anyway, I was thinking, on the way to Morrissons, not only about how we dress to express our personalities in a conscious way, but also how we tend towards different styles, as a subconscious thing.  A few years back I worked for a woman who was younger than me but much more 'straight' (please note: I am not talking about sexual orientation here!! - I mean that her idea of a fun night out was probably a Celine Dion concert) and I remember her asking me if I would ever get my hair cut.  

"Why don't you have it cut into a nice bob?" asked she, to which I replied, "Because I'm not a 'nice bob' sort of person."  

Not a 'nice bob' sort of person ~ 1990

Which kinda summed it up, really.  I always found office clothes difficult, which is because I am not one of nature's admin workers.  Couldn't do that neat skirt, tights and shoes bit.  It was easiest when I was just given a uniform, like for the Nationwide Building Society - I love jobs with uniforms, you don't have to think about what to wear each morning!  I used to find that my work clothes were too 'square' (lovely old-fashioned phrase!) for my normal wear.  I felt almost restricted by them, in the same way as I did the daft office rules.  I think the preferences of your younger days stay with you, too.  I wouldn't wear it these days because I think it would make me look like Bet Lynch, but I always find myself edging towards the leopard print - I try to keep it just for things like make-up bags now, though!  Though my husband is not in the first flush of youth by any means, I am instructed, when buying clothes for him, to ask myself this question before I make a purchase: Would Liam Gallagher wear it?  If the answer is "you gotta be kidding", I must leave it in the shop.

At the height of my rock chickery, 1990

When I was at the height of my rock chickery I always wore short skirts, suede boots, denim, leopard print, huge belts, etc; but I didn't think I frequently go to The Town & Country Club to see Thunder, thus I must dress like a rock groupie - I just did.  I don't anymore; I've moved gradually into the slightly boho-chic look, though not always with a great deal of chic, it has to be said. It wasn't a conscious decision but, of late, my eye tends to be caught by patterned trousers, floaty tops, odd jacket-ish-shrug-ish-waistcoat-ish garments, and the odd scarf!  I try to resist the scarf thing a bit, though - have you noticed how writers always wear them, artfully draped?!  I don't want to look like a middle-aged writer, I really don't.  I draw the line at witty earrings, too.  

Me and my pal Lesley, 2012.  

We may be in the autumn of our lives but we spit on colour co-ordinating separates!!

My sister, who is much more conservative in outlook than me, usually dresses like a smart city office worker.  Okay, she can do 'bag lady' as well as I can, when at home, and can still be seen in an Aerosmith t-shirt if you catch her early enough on a weekend morning, but her well cut dresses and classic tops express how she is, I suppose!  How anyone can be bothered to wear posh dresses when they don't have to is beyond me, but we're all different!  She wore lycra mini skirts and and over the knee boots twenty-odd years ago, too (Julia, remember the black stetson?) but we've just moved in different ways.  

Jools in one of her many smart frocks!

Often, though, people use the way they look as their identity, don't they?  The uniform of the punk, or the biker - or, one that always makes me laugh, the new age traveller types who want to be so 'individual' but actually wear as much of a uniform as the conservative city gent - the dreadlocks, the facial piercing, the tie-dyed trousers, the ex-army jacket.  

As instantly recognisable as the stockbroker in his designer suit...!  People who really are individual don't need a wacky hairstyle to prove it (that's a quote from a character in one of my books!).

For the lacking in confidence, assuming a certain mode of dress can given you an 'in' into a certain club, too - think geeky oddball blokes wearing heavy metal band t-shirts, for instance!! Um.......

Wayne and Garth... or is it???!!

Last of all, I give you the truly insecure ~ the fashion victim who spends £800 on a handbag because it's 'the thing to have'... because that handbag is not a handbag at all.  It's a placard saying "I am not only at the cutting edge of what is hot, I also have enough disposable income to buy it.  Thus, I am better than you".    They don't realise that on the back of the placard it says "I am desperate for approval and admiration."

Not quite sure where else I am going with any of this, huge subject that could be a much longer article - I'd love to hear about your own clothing preferences and any general opinions on this!