 Dusty:Starlight:Culture
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I was just Daphne again
2006-11-01 8:26 a.m. Several Times articles have made the revolutionary observation that Halloween costumes for women are disturbingly suggestive, the makers assuming that women want nothing more than to look like strippers on Halloween. While this is neither news nor revolutionary, I'm glad (and maybe sad?) it's become obvious enough to be pointed out in the Times. Looking for a wig with Steve the other day, I was disturbed by what I saw in the women's costume aisle: not just cop, "sexy" cop. Not just nurse, "naughty" nurse. Not just candy corn, sexy candy corn. Yes, I just said sexy candy corn. Can't just be a werewolf or witch; one must be a werewolf or witch who wears the proper bra to fill in the corset-top which dominates both of those costumes. And if I don't want to dress like a lady of the night? If I don't feel so desperate to get attention or prove my "femininity" that I'll walk around all night wearing less than I do at the beach? My options sure are limited, unless of course I have the leisure time to make the costume myself. Lucky me, I did. But if I didn't? I empathize with Alison Glock, the author of one of those aforementioned articles, who said: "...trick-or-treating with your children in anything featuring latex and cleavage seems like a little too much trick." Oh, and when she went to the men's costume aisle, she goes on to explain, she didn't see "sexy pool boy" or whatever. Just your generic, run of the mill costume. Monsters, serial killers, etc. Quel suprise. Or maybe Quel horreur? That we objectify women - and limit their choices to objectification and get mad or ridicule them if they feel uncomfortable being objectified - is nothing new. But as I said, it made the Times. Twice! Viva la sexual harassment awareness week at the office. I do believe the post-90's sensitivity training we've all been forced to endure has paid off. But then, walking to the pub last night with Brian and Jen after I finished teaching, I saw sexy candy striper, sexy bunny, and sexy sailor. And sexy sailor looked like she was soliciting. She wasn't - in fact, it was a girl Brian had had in his lit class last semester (and so he ran in the other direction, not wanting to talk to her in her sexy sailor outfit - can you blame him?). But she certainly was walking through Newark, at night, dressed in a sexy sailor outfit. Alone. Well, ok. Girls? Boys? Thoughts? So, um, we bought a house. No, really. It's on the border of W Milford and Jefferson. It's closer to Steve's work, and further from mine. I told this to my boss, and he immediately said he'd see about making my schedule three days per week. I love, love, love the house and can't believe the Rongo family came down to our offering price. I can't believe the rate for our mortgage is under 6%. I can't believe what a phony grown up I feel like, signing all the paperwork. I'm wearing mommy's big shoes and jewelry, and Steve's wearing daddy's big blazer and tie, and we're play-driving to the lawyer's, realtor's or home inspector's office to sort out this whole radon-test thing. It'll catch up with me soon, when we move (Steve wants to close by the end of the month, is that realistic?). And speaking of moving, I'm cashing in those favors now. So if I helped you move in the middle of July during the 2003 heat wave, Kris, or painted your house, Dave, Sharon, Jen, or fixed your driveway, Brian, Krissy, etc., I think I may ask you to help me box up the china. xoxox
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