We Harpies often discuss to the Old Harpy Home we’re planning for our golden years. It will be a villa, somewhere warm. PilgrimSoul will probably insist that it be on the ocean. There will be lotsa dogs and cats and books, plus many guest rooms so y’all can come visit. But there will not be “fashion” or makeup or–needless to say–plastic surgery allowed. Of course, by then,it will not matter how we look. Society will already see us as useless, unbeautiful, asexual creatures, just by virtue of our age.
Which, counterintuitively, might be a Good Thing. At least, that’s what Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Alison Lurie* discovered. Lurie recently penned a dynamite essay in The Guardian about how she was unceremoniously dumped by Big Fashion and the beauty culture:
Soon after I reached 60 I was abandoned by Vogue magazine and all its clones. Like former lovers who drop you slowly and politely because they once cared for you, they gradually stopped speaking to me. Without intending it I had permanently alienated them, simply by becoming old. From their point of view, I was now a hopeless case. They were not going to show me any more pictures of clothes I might look good in, or give me useful advice about makeup or hair.
At first my feelings were hurt. Hadn’t I loved fashion and been faithful to her all these years? Just as one avoids the songs that recall a lost lover, I stopped reading her magazines, even in a doctor’s office. As a result, I felt first panic and then a rush of euphoria. I was abandoned and alone, yes, but I was also free: after more than 60 years, nobody was telling me what to wear.
So Lurie cleans out her closet, getting rid of “everything too obviously ‘sexy’- that is, shiny and low-cut and tight and uncomfortable.” Oh Gawd, the relief she must have felt. She also gave up her monthly hair dye, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that her natural hair color was now silver:
This led to a wonderful discovery. White and grey hair go with every colour, including white and grey.
But it gets better. As it turns out, Alison Lurie is my soul sister, because she immediately ditches that tool of fashion sadism I most despise:
I got rid of all my high-heeled shoes. I hadn’t worn them very often since I slipped on an outdoor stairway covered with wet leaves and broke my leg. I had already understood that if I had been wearing flat shoes that day I would have avoided a miserable week in the hospital and three months on crutches…although fashion magazines don’t admit it, high heels always slow you down and hurt your feet. Fashion pretends to be a feminist, but still makes it almost impossible for anyone under her spell to negotiate a subway grating or a rough gravel path, or run for a bus without turning her ankle.
Ah yes. Fashion pretends to be a feminist. The operative word there being pretends. And once fashion stops pretending to care about you, you can stop pretending to give a shit about fashion, as Lurie and her friends discovered:
My friends made similar changes, all individual and all in defiance of fashion. All of us realised with joy that we could now wear the clothes we liked best.
While I’m always loudly proclaiming that women can be beautiful and sexy at any age–my family has many over-60 examples of this phenomenon–Lurie’s essay made me reflect on what it must be like to be freed entirely from that unspoken obligation to be sexy. When you’re over 60 and our youth-obsessed fashion culture posts a big DO NOT WANT sign on you, it must sting. Because, really, who wants to be told that? It’s a bitter pill to swallow for some women, and Lurie does note that not all her friends have accepted their split with Big Fashion:
Alas, some…are still worshipping at the altar of Fashion, who has for ever turned her back on them.
What I liked most about Lurie’s revelation was that she wasn’t railing against our youth-obsessed culture, or against Big Fashion. She is, very simply and matter-of-factly, done with them. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, over it. She’s on to the next thing. Personally, I’m not. Not yet. But I will be someday. And I’m really looking forward to it.
*If you haven’t read Alison Lurie’s novels, start with Foreign Affairs or The War Between the Tates. You will not be disappointed.
I am with you on the heel hate. I am like a drunken baby giraffe trying to walk in them. And yet, I still have many pairs, because you’re apparently never fully dressed up without a pair of heels. Maybe one of these days, hopefully before I turn 60, to just ditch ‘em all.
I went to a wedding this weekend. I had a very long discussion with one of my fellow guests about how ‘we didn’t need feminism anymore because we are all so liberated now.’ I physically grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around and made her scan the room very slowly, so she could all the better appreciate the corsetted, high-heeled, tight-haired, fake-tanned women that were the living contradictions of her argument.
I still love my items from Big Fashion, but the pressure to make my hair more “presentable” is just not doing anything for me anymore. One of the more oddly liberating things I did when I got pregnant was to resolve to stop highlighting my hair. And, eight months after the last trip to the colorist, I am just fine with the dark blonde that my tresses are without any chemical help. I have people (*cough*my mother*cough*) who try to convince me that if I go back to highlighting my hair very blonde, I will snag a mate. But it’s kind of how I feel about makeup: if you don’t think I’m attractive the way nature made me, then I don’t really want to date you.
However, I had originally planned to totally shave my head postpartum and I cannot work up the nerve to do that. So I still have my conformist streak in some aspects, even though I’ve already shaved it all off once before.
Hmmm my earlier comment didn’t post so sorry if this is repeated. I think it is a great metaphor to compare ones relationship with fashion to a shallow mate who leaves you as you age for a younger model. Luckily my tastes run toward the vintage/old ladyish and I am already relegated to orthopedic shoes. I can’t promise I won’t go chasing hot young things regardless, despite what may well be a low success rate at that time. Scoot over and make a little room for me on the verandah.
afteriris, how did she respond?
She laughed and said something along the lines of ‘we can’t all burn our bras, you know!’ I think she must of thought I was joking, or I was so serious it made her uncomfortable… Ah, what a delightful wedding guest I must be!
must *have* thought… bloody grammar.
@afteriris: You are automatically invited to whatever wedding I may have in the future.
So, not to reiterate what I just said in another post, but my body shape was never picked up by Big Fashion or beauty culture in the first place, so I have a hard time relating sometimes to being “left behind” by Vogue.
But as to the shoes and stuff, fuck yeah.
Also yes, the ocean is non-negotiable.
Big Fashion has never picked someone with my height (short) or body-shape (zaftig) or even skin colour (although recently there is slightly more visibility).
I, on the hand have courted big fashion by torturing myself with the latest diets and super high heels.
So yeah, my abandonment issues have been there since I was sixteen. I am working on getting over them. I haven’t dieted in over two years, but I still wear crazy heels.
I would only like to add that one need not wait until the age of 60 to give Big Fashion the finger. I suggest ditching any- and every-thing that is uncomfortable RIGHT NOW.
I am not yet 60 (but close)and have never worn high heels and never plan to as they are painful (yes I have tried a few pair on) and I cannot walk in them. As I have gotten older I too have stopped wearing skirts and dresses and wear mostly pants to work and social events. Not so much that I don’t like dresses/skirts but I can’t abide pantyhose that strangle my waist or upper thighs. Still I consider myself fashion conscious and like to look fashionable. I simply refuse to wear anything uncomfortable.
I’m trying to do this with make up (I swear it smells and makes my face itch!) but it is turning out to be harder to stop using it than I thought.
Also, as I’ve gotten older, the general comments from strangers about my appearance have dropped off which is such an enormous relief, though at times I’ve panicked a little at the thought I’m becoming invisible. “Wait, when was the last time a guy hit on me? Has it been years?” So, it’s difficult to get over the idea of your value being tied to your attractiveness/youth/sex appeal.
Just this morning I thought that my ideal job will be one where I no longer have to wear pantyhose. But fuck that, I’m just going to wear pants from now on.
(Or I will once I own more than two pairs of pants).
Khrushchev: panty hose are of the devil. From now on whenever I have a down day at work, I will remember that I’m allowed to wear both jeans and skirts without panty hose, and I will be thankful.
@afteriris — you are totally welcome at my wedding this summer.
I have never been the target audience of Fashion, thanks to a combination of genetics and money. So I weirdly feel a bit envious that she got to participate at all, to be wanted in that way. I realize that’s horribly messed up.
I am on the edge of dyeing my hair to match (what I think is) my natural color, and just letting it go from there. I am very nervous about this; I started dyeing at 12/13 and am 29 now. I’ve dyed it blonde for most of my life, and the chemicals burn my scalp now, but I’m afraid of going to a middling blonde brown and just being that much more “unacceptable” and outside. Which is ridiculous — the dye blisters my fucking scalp. I’ve given up a lot of things but this I feel is a major step, one I don’t know if I’m ready to do.
I’m in my mid 30s now and have gone through a few cycles of rejecting and then re-embracing the fashion overlords. I’m back to rejecting, though I wonder if I’ll give in and color my hair once my crop of grays reach critical mass.
I’ve been trying to ride my bike more to places when I go out, which puts the fashion vs comfort battle up front. Shoes pretty much have to have a flat sole, my hair needs to look ok after 20 minutes of wind through my helmet, and the dorky reflective jacket gets stuffed into a purse.
The Harpy House sounds like a wonderful place.
Bidding adieu to big fashion in a been there done that got the tshirt way sounds tempting, but I wonder if that has to do with the fact that it’s (probably) a far-off prospect for me, given that I like to wear dresses and skirts and in general clothes chosen for fashion rather than utilitarian reasons. Would it be a relief for people not to notice or judge how I appear? Of course. Would that mean they’d stop noticing me altogether? Would that feel as horrifying and isolating as the feeling of being judged solely on appearance? Would it be worse? I think (but am not sure) that the answers to all those questions are in the affirmative.
I stopped wearing pantyhose at my job about three years ago (after only about 6 months on the job). When asked by another woman (kind of in mock horror, maybe a little actual horror – we were business formal at the time) what I would say if our (male) boss noticed that I was not wearing pantyhose in contravention of the rules, I said: If he is that close to my legs to notice, we’ve got bigger problems on our hands.
F pantyhose and the expectations regarding what I should be wearing.
[...] I had already understood that if I had been wearing flat shoes that day I would have avoided a miserable week in the hospital and three months on crutches…although fashion magazines don’t admit it, high heels always slow you down and … More here: » The Beauty of Being Over It The Pursuit of Harpyness [...]
I wear bright purple tights in place of pantyhose. People think of me as “bohemian.”
I so want to come visit y’all at the harpy house;-) i’ll bring biscotti and margaritas…
I’ve never been a fan of high heels. I had knee surgery a few weeks ago and am still healing up. I’m at a fairly dressy conference at the moment (e.g. suits). It was so liberating to not even have to think about packing a pair of heels and panty hose.
The same goes for my hair. I always assumed I’d dye it once I went grey, but a few years ago decided to stay natural.
@magda: Good luck keeping Fashion away from your wedding. It seems a (real or metaphorical) rock on a woman’s finger is license to criticize her appearance/what she wears.
i haven’t worn heels since i was pregnant 19 years ago, and no makeup since before. i am lucky enough to be able to wear jeans to work, so no skirts. i don’t even own a skirt now. and certainly people look at me and judge me-i’m 100lbs overweight, have short hair and wear jeans with men’s button-down shirts-and i couldn’t care less. the only real vanity i have is dyeing my hair with henna. and that’s mostly because when i left it natural, i looked like the living dead. on the other hand, i do spend a LOT on shoes…i only wear earth, dansko, and newbalance sneakers.
At twenty-six, I’m already going white and I could care less about fashion. Where it gets me today is children’s clothing. The clothing on the market for little girl’s today is often a miniaturized version of adult clothing. Tell me this, how do you put hip hugger jeans on over a big, bulgy cloth diaper? And tissue weight flutter sleeved pink tees? Who came up with that?? Fortunately, boy’s clothes have worked out fine, I do get grief for it, though. Has it really been everyone’s experience that they’ve become invisible by rejecting or aging out of the meat market? Maybe it’s an effect of my age, but I get noticed “positively” and negatively more often than I’d like, usually when I wish a library book counted as a big “Do Not Disturb” sign.
You can have my high heels when you pry them from my cold dead hands. That said, I wear them for my own amusment not the patriarchy. Most people tell me that I shouldn’t wear them as I’m 6’2″ and I tower over the menz. LOL fuck the haters, I love my heels. Also I walk better in them. True story; I’ve never fallen in heels, but I fall all the time in flats and bare feet.
I believe in saying FU to big fashion in general though, as they don’t feel the need to design for people who are plus size and freaky tall.
I also don’t think I’ll be covering my grays. I plan on earning them.
[...] Url : http://www.harpyness.com/2009/04/21/the-beauty-of-being-over-it/ [...]
[...] of course, talk about a future Golden Girls-like living situation. BeckySharper was talking about Old Harpy Home just the other [...]
Yep, I can relate to the idea of this article and I think it’s great, but the fashion industry beat me to it by saying a big FU to my body type long ago. According to Vogue et al, ladies who look like me are as mythical as bigfoot.