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- <text id=90TT2981>
- <title>
- Nov. 08, 1990: Ode To A Tyrannical Muse
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
- Nov. 08, 1990 Special Issue - Women:The Road Ahead
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- PUBLIC IMAGES, Page 60
- STYLE
- Ode to a Tyrannical Muse (or Why I Love and Hate Fashion)
- </hdr>
- <body>
- <p>By Johanna McGeary
- </p>
- <p> A passion for fashion is a dangerous thing. It can, if
- you're not careful, fool the eye into betraying the body. Just
- when you think it might be safe to go out in a thigh-high mini,
- the fashion oracles say it's the year of the catsuit. I'm going
- to wear a neck-to-toe unitard in public? No way. I have only to
- think ladies' room (worse: airplane lavatory) to dismiss such
- a pernicious garment from my wardrobe. What sensible woman wants
- to reveal her every--and I do mean every--curve and bulge?
- And who wants to look at them?
- </p>
- <p> Let me confess: I love fashion. I study the magazines; I
- shop; I spend more than I should. To look chic is to feel great.
- No matter how we women yearn to be valued for other qualities,
- we invest a considerable amount of our psychic selves in our
- appearance. We're not all born beautiful, but we can make the
- most of what we've got. That's the art of style: improving on
- nature. Fashion helps us shape that sense of style, give it
- definition, freshness, sparkle, zing.
- </p>
- <p> But I hate fashion too. It's a tyrannical muse, demanding
- time, energy, money, discomfort. There are mornings when I look
- at my well-stocked closets and have nothing to wear. My husband
- can't understand this. The only time he has nothing to wear is
- when all his shirts are at the laundry. There is something so
- enviously simple about male dressing: a suit, a shirt, a tie.
- Our notions of how these should look don't change much with the
- seasons, and barely with the generations. So how wrong can a man
- go? How unattractive can he feel?
- </p>
- <p> Female fashion is exhausting. All that variety from which
- to choose the few items that will transform you into a knockout.
- All those racks in all those stores: it takes hours and days to
- find the perfect thing. Once home, the garments crowd the
- closet, challenging you to put together the right pieces for the
- right occasion--and the right mood. There's a mutability to
- clothes that makes them appealing one day, appalling the next.
- </p>
- <p> All that agonizing choice is made no easier by vast expense.
- I try to keep up with the mode, and it costs--just ask my
- husband. But the skyrocketing prices are pushing fashion beyond
- the reach of willing buyers like me. I was leafing through a
- fall fashion magazine the other day, plotting my seasonal
- purchases. There was a charming outfit by a no-name designer in
- delicious shades of pink and red (this is the year of color,
- remember): mohair coat, $725; cropped jacket, $575; knit dress,
- $230. The total for the ensemble: $1,530. That's not including
- the $68 wool scarf, $15 ribbed tights or the who-knows-how-much
- gloves. I bought a pair of stretch velvet leggings last year
- for $80--not exactly dirt cheap but top-notch fashion for the
- money. When I see stretch velvet leggings in the magazines for
- $500, I wonder what the other $420 is for. That's not style,
- that's trying to sucker me.
- </p>
- <p> Maybe it happens every fin de siecle, but lately fashion
- seems to slide further and further from reality. Most women I
- know have two kinds of clothes: work clothes and play clothes,
- in evening and weekend varieties. If women are not tending
- children at home, the clothes for work outnumber all the rest.
- So why is it that most designers of any fame produce garments
- intended for some weird fantasy life? I'm looking at a
- crotch-length strapless tweed dress topped by a blazer. Even in
- the permissive world of journalism, where am I going to wear
- this number? To interview the Secretary of State? I understand
- fashion's need for the new, but it gets less and less possible
- to find something modish I can actually wear.
- </p>
- <p> Fashion is painful. Women suffer pinching, scratching,
- binding, twisting in the name of chic. Push-up bras give you the
- lush bosom of the '90s, but the underwire cuts into your rib
- cage. Panty hose are hot and, frankly, sweaty. High heels give
- your hips an alluring tilt, but after a 10-minute walk, your
- feet scream. Short skirts are young and kicky. But how young do
- you want to look when you can't sit comfortably?
- </p>
- <p> I have learned from experience to say no to fashion. We're
- stuck with bras until a kinder form of support comes along. I
- liked long skirts because I could wear knee-high stockings
- underneath. And I simply refuse to wear hose in summer. So what
- if the oracles say I'm not properly dressed? I won't buy a
- catsuit this season, and I bet few other women will. While I
- refuse to trade in my pumps for Reeboks, I don't buy shoes with
- heels higher than an inch or two, and I still manage to have
- fashionable feet. (Pointy toes long ago revamped my
- metatarsals.)
- </p>
- <p> But however hardened I've become, I succumb to fashion's
- lure. I swore I wouldn't wear short skirts again: I have photos
- from the last age of miniskirts; I remember trying to bend and
- sit without total exposure, and I remember how cold it was. And
- yet, as I dragged out my winter clothes, my hems looked
- downright dowdy. I'm busy shortening them again. See what a
- betrayer is the fashion muse? I hate it. I love it.
- </p>
-
- </body>
- </article>
- </text>
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