1) Leggings are not pants. Leggings are the dickeys of dresses/skirts/long tunics & tees.
2) All flesh-colored leggings should be outlawed.
3) Grey leggings should not be allowed at the gym because they show crotch sweat like whoa.
I support all of these observations. I love leggings, but they belong under a longer shirt.
Ok, I have to ask, how often do people really wear leggings as pants pants? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in the wild, though I’ve seen a billion leggings under dresses and tunic-length tops. I hear it complained about a lot though.
Oh I see it a lot. Sunday morning in New York is a virtual camel show.
Is this the statement of:
a. a well known feminist blogger
b. a fashion commentator
c. a character in "Mean Girls"
Yeah, it's Jill again.
Well, here's the thing about Jill: she's a privileged, educated, well off white woman living in NYC. I don't think she knows jack shit about my life or how I live it. And I don't think Jill gets that feminism is about way more than what her and her privileged little clique experience. So when Jill tells me I just don't understand her thinky thoughts and I have no sense of humor*, well, Jill, you don't get my entire fucking life. And maybe you need to step away from the red wine and Burt's Bees (she can't live without it) and see how a very large number of women live.
Do I get mentally judgey when I see other women? Yeah. Because I live in this culture and I have absorbed that I am required to judge other women based on their attractiveness to men. (I rarely get mentally judgey about what men wear. It's the patriarchy, baby!) But I am aware of this and I work very hard not to do it. I stop my judgey thoughts and replace them with this: I sincerely hope she was happy with her outfit when she left the house this morning.
Because I rarely am.
I can only imagine, based on the above, what Jill would think upon seeing me in my frequently ill fitting, sagging, pilling, old and often inappropriate outfits. Like Tuesday, when it was 80F/27C. That's hot, especially in April. So I was wearing a flowery sundress, in a soft, crinkly cotton, with an empire waist and spaghetti straps. It's like wearing nothing at all**, this dress. I did put a cardigan over it at work, but, yeah, inappropriate for a law office. Probably also inappropriate for a 35 year old woman.
But you know what? I don't have any money and I have to buy clothes for work, and walking around in the heat and rain and snow, and clothes for doing yard work and running around after nieces and for days when my hands are so stiff buttons are a fucking puzzlebox. That's what it's like to be poor, Jill. You get to be inappropriate, in public, where other people can see you. And you know it. You know those people are looking at you and thinking ZOMG! Doesn't she know what she looks like?
Yeah, I do. I just can't do a damn thing about it. And Jill, you have no idea what it's like. None at all. So stop pretending the problem is me and my inability to understand your amazing thinky thoughts, and start trying to understand, in some small way, what it's like to lose.
And I have to wonder what Jill would think about her words coming out of the mouth of a man, especially a man who sexually assaulted a woman. I mean, look at the way she was dressed!
Yeah, I just don't understand your thinky thoughts. That's the problem.
*We call that a Scott Adams, btw. Yes, that is a link to feministe. Irony, it's a funny thing.
**Stupid sexy Flanders!
***Please, please, please let me call you that!