You know how sometimes you put on a skirt that you think is
an appropriate length and then you walk somewhere, say, to work, through a
predominately Muslim city, and you realize your navy blue skirt has hiked up
and your white slip has fallen down?
Well, you certainly can’t keep walking like that because a short skirt
(over green tights mind you) is still better than part of your underwear
hanging out. So, I slipped behind a few
trees next to Thai Sushi this morning, waited until I couldn’t see anyone passing, and pulled my slip off under my coat and over my boots. It was not pretty, but it was fast. Now the cat calls will remain at a normal
level instead of the “I can see your lacey slip” level.
In other clothing related news, we went to our first fashion
show a few weeks ago and felt like complete frauds. We sat on the front row in our black outfits
and nodded our heads knowingly after the show when people said things like Can you believe those models? They were amateurs or Wasn’t that velvet jumper just divine? For the record, it was. The fact that I know luxurious fabrics, Indian inspired brocade and Asian shapes are “in” this year is beyond
strange to me. But I have to say, the
whole thing was a lot of fun. I fussed
and fussed about what to wear and in the end wore a black cocktail dress. Boring, I know, but the idea of showing up in
a purple prom dress surrounded by Casablanca’s elite clad completely in black gave
me nightmares (literally).
At first it
was a bit strange to see these girls, because that’s what they were, parading
down a white carpet with steely eyes directed towards the slew of press at the
end of the runway; but after a few girls walked past me, close enough to reach
out and touch them, I noticed they didn’t really look like the airbrushed waifs
we see on TV. Up close some had frizzy
hair, bad skin, bulges, and one had a gnarly looking thing on the top of her
left foot. Not that I sat on the front
row and tried to pick out flaws in the models to feel better about myself, but
seeing them up close made me re-visit the lie the media tells us about bodies –
our bodies and “their” bodies. The lie
that ours are gross and “theirs” are flawless.
I actually left with a better sense of confidence in my own body and the
idea that we all come in different shapes, skin tones, and foot health.
I also reached packing nirvana weekend before last when I
went to Paris with my Mother for the weekend and packed the exact minimum
amount of clothing needed in my small bag.
Nothing smelled and nothing went unworn and yet, I maintained enough
diversity and practicality for The Louvre, Sainte Chappell, the Metro and long
wandering walks in the cold. I mean, Paris was awesome, but packing my bag with perfect economy was really the highlight :)
