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Updated 04/15/02
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Madison Avenue
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Ain't
Touched That Sugar Yet
That day in
Pittsburg, Kansas the adults acted like greedy kids at JC Penney's
25% off sale, trying on damn near everything. Pittsburg supped that
day. It feasted. Its people slurped at a bowl full of ho-hum
clothing at low prices, but wasn't that just like Pittsburg? A
mediocre place at a good price, that's the town. Where elsewhere
many can maintain their look at bargain prices, there, they just...(more)
Aliza's
Apartment
The year I am in grade nine I go over to my friend Aliza's
apartment almost every day after school. I have decided that my own
living situation is intolerably normal and as such is incredibly
boring. Aliza's of course seems just the opposite. I first meet Aliza after she...(more)
Baby Dyke,
New Hair
From age 13 to age 21, I wore my hair in pretty much the same
style. Shoulder length to mid-back, with bangs. Trying to be lovely
- sometimes succeeding. When I came out as a dyke, I wanted to say fuck you to lovely.
Fuck trying to...(more)
Bag This
I hit Prada's today. It's my kind of store; no blaring music, no
hard sell, no depressing posters of the nimble nouveau-naked.
Fernando, my doe-eyed salesman, smells of musk. His whispered
fawning strokes my soul. Nice place, that Prada, except it's hard to
justify $700 for a pocketbook when I only carry a library card, dog
biscuits, a coupon for Bagel Boss, the remains of a popped balloon,
yes, my l9-year-old son's first tooth, some 29-cent stamps, a
mysterious pair of boxers engraved "Natasha," and a total
of ten dollars -- if there's no...(more)
Beautiful
Every girl wants to be told she's beautiful. She spends hours
dreaming of the one hundred and one different ways she could inspire
one hundred and one different men to mumble, to stumble over, to
whisper or sigh; to breathe, pronounce, cry out that blissful and
perfectly rare utterance, "You are the most beautiful girl in
the world," or some variation of that sort. I was no different.
Except...(more)
Birthdays
Tomato
Dress
For my birthday a
few years ago, my mother bought us tickets to a ballet performance
at Lincoln Center. I wore a tomato print dress. The scoop neckline
and flared knee-length hem reminded me of 1940s movie stars, or my
stylish grandmother in black and white photos. Wearing it, I felt
like...(more)
Soccer
Camp Surprise
In 1980 I was
serenaded by 300 soccer campers in a cafeteria in Waco, Texas. That
summer I spent three weeks at Baylor University, at a boys camp run
by my father. While he coached, I toured the campus by myself,
graffitied empty stairwells, and read on grassy fields. I was bored.
My body loped along in slow motion, the result of...(more)
Bracing
Myself
The ceiling is
low, white, and featureless, and as I wait for the super-glue to dry
on my teeth, unable to look elsewhere, I wonder why someone hasn't
stuck a few posters up there. Finally a woman's face appears,
frowning studiously. This is not the sweet-faced man I consulted
with, but must be my orthodontist, because the woman who applied the
glue looked way too young. Neither woman, however, has...(more)
It always catches up with me. It can happen at any time, in any place, with anyone. It strikes quickly and violently, spinning my reality out of sight and knocking my esteem right back on the floor. I can run, baby, but I can't hide. It's in my closet and my makeup case. It's in my high school yearbook and the memory of everyone who knew me when I had those God-awful blue coke-bottle glasses. It's...(more)
Cowboy Dreams
The cowboy, in full cowboy gear, from boots to chaps to low-slung
holster and gun to embroidered corduroy shirt to wide-brimmed hat,
bends over, lower lip jutting out in concentration, and pushes an
iron across an ironing board. That's me in the photograph, at five years old, a pistol-packing
Suzy Homemaker in a...(more)
I admired it for almost two years before I bought it. I saw it every time I went to the mall, on the top shelf of one of those popular, teen shops.
It was a BEAUTIFUL crown! The first time I spotted it, I was overcome with my childhood desire to be a princess! For the week following my first encounter with the crown, I visualized it sitting elegantly on my head. That exquisite image played on my mind so much that...(more)
Cutting
Loose
"How many
cares one loses when one decides not to be something, but
someone." - Coco Channel
I decided to shave my head billiard bald in mid-January of the
over-celebrated new millennium- but it wasn't a New Year's
resolution. It was just a coincidence. My 7decision, purely voluntary
and not inspired by any medical requisite one might assume, can only
be explained by bewitchment. Either that or ...(more)
Dressed to
Kill
My best friend and I were trolling the local mall the other day
when the good ol' days got the best of us. About the time you turn
40, just about any woman who still has her own eyelashes ought be
road kill, so we were doing our very best to decide which one of the
teenagers in front of us should be shot on sight because her stomach
was flat enough to fit between a cutting board and the kitchen
counter. It was probably the wine we had with lunch, but we somehow
gathered the wit and grit to wander into Victoria's Secret and...(more)
Femme
Feminist
My mania for girlie clothes disgusted my feminist mother when I was
little. A baby-boomer, she didn't have a choice when she was in
school, since actual rules restricted girls to skirts and dresses.
We '70s children were to remake the world, modeling ourselves after
brave princesses, like Atalanta on Marlo Thomas's record, "Free
to Be...You and Me," who could run as fast as the wind. One
could...(more)
Fifty-Something
Turnon
maybe I don't love you at all, woman maybe
I wooed you for your
hats
scuffed havana straw that you claim is
the most comfortable hat
you ever owned,
stetson wrangler you wear with tights and...(more)
For
Madison With Love & Polar Bears
So there's this skinny chick in LA who wears too much makeup and
works at this lame-ass store in the Westside Pavilion where they
sell little skirts and dresses and the tight black pants that
publicists and sorority girls wear to bars. And I don't want to be
judgmental or anything here, but the Skinny Girl talked some real
catty smack to the hero of this story, who's 15 years old and was
looking at dresses for...(more)
There's more to a woman than a pretty floral dress. We know that in our hearts, but sometimes we forget. The day I'm going to tell you about, I had on a netted crop top, giant bellbottoms with a flame running up one leg, and a fountain of cork screw curls bursting from a scrunchie on the crown of my head. Not the clothes...(more)
Glamour
Shots
I'm guilty. I have
sneered in smug superiority at those pathetic women who spent money
getting tarted up in the mall so they could plonk down a few hundred
for photos of themselves. I have ridiculed pictures of people who
look suspiciously like all of their friends who were seduced by the
cunning ads. I suspected most women of being genetically predisposed
to go on alert when shown before and after displays. We believe
that...(more)
The Grand
Cover-up
In Afghanistan today, a woman is considered provocative if the
wind blows her skirt above her ankle, and the price for such
"lewdness" is acid thrown in her face. The fact is women
have been covering up for *men's* indecency for millennia, hiding
our own bodies in deference to men's claim on our very own flesh.
By Jewish and Islamic laws, both time-honored ancient traditions,
women must...(more)
| Hair
Length Just as some people wear naturally-dyed organically-harvested locally-produced cotton clothing, while others wear black thrift store threads, leather collars, and gritty bicycle chains to indicate their political-cultural leanings, there are those who dye their hair green and purple as well as those who sculpt their manes into liberty spikes and dreadlocks. Personally, I utilize the length of my hair to...(more) |
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| Hanauma Bay, 1971 She's wearing her brand new Oleg Cassini maillot, puffy and yellow and pointy cupped, like some... |
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| Hat I put on a hat walked to the movies it only took 3 hours I got home took off my hat looked in the mirror noticed...(more) |
Looks That
Kill:
Why I Shed My Skins
"Are your shoes leather?"
When I tell people that I'm an animal rights activist and a
vegetarian, that's often one of the first questions I'm asked.
Instead of seeking my opinion on animal experiments or the use of
elephants in circuses--or even the best-tasting brand of veggie
burger--people are exceedingly curious about what I wear on my feet.
Often my inquisitors pose their question with a certain smugness, as
if...(more)
In my first year of high school, grade 9, there was a girl in my class named Natasha. Not that anyone at school ever called her by her given name. At 5' 4" and 200 pounds, Natasha would earn a new name from her so-called peers: Fats.
Natasha was a character with a personality that at first glance seemed worn down by the daily grind of high school living. She wasn't "in". She did not do as well as the others academically. Her hair was lanky and dull.
In grade 10...(more)
Plain Jane
and Proud of It
Before bar codes on library books were scanned in computerized
records, I had a plastic library card with raised numbers. After the
librarian punched cards in a machine to check out my books, wet
purple ink coated the numbers. The librarian usually asked me, a
five-year-old bookworm, if I wanted the imprint of my library card
number on the top of my hand. Naive about the historical
implications of having an identifying number inked on me, I often...(more)
Pretty
Feet
My haughty streak flares up when I rub against my physical
limits. A car accident left me with burn injuries that both scarred
my face, my body and claimed all ten of my fingers. Simple tasks,
like slicing an apple, tying a shoelace, wrapping a gift, are beyond
my reach. Now, I must surrender jobs that require scissors. Against
my grain, I seek help for the basics and usually pay for the
privilege. Every six weeks, like a horse getting reshod, I submit to...(more)
Purses R
Us
It's my "maiden voyage" as a college lecturer and I'm
scared to death. I've not slept a wink the night before. Dressed in
"college casual" style, and primed with an I-can-do-this
pep talk, I prepare for my grand entrance. I take an extra deep
breath and sail bravely into the classroom. Without warning, in
mid-stride, I hear a pop and feel my purse...(more)
We have long grown accustomed to the fact that the versions of women we see in the media are unreal. The complaint against the unnaturally thin model has been made (and remade) in the editorial column of every women's magazine. Yet the difference between models and "real" women is not merely an issue of dress size. It's a much bigger difference between the contrived world of the glossy magazine and the world we live in, and...(more)
Real
Power
There's a
difference between women who want to appear powerful and those who
just are. I saw one of the former today over a working lunch. You
know the kind--she looked the part. I used to mimic women like her,
the ones I remembered from those Hanes pantyhose commercials on
television. The epitome of society's image of a professional
woman...(more)
If I had to name even one thing wrong with David, I would honestly draw a complete blank. He's a sweet guy, good-looking with sandy brown hair and a goatee, interested in books and art and movies, with passionate opinions about all of them. So I couldn't understand why I kept checking my watch during the two dates I had with him. Despite the stimulating topics of conversation, I felt...(more)
| Short
Shorts Da Girls: Episode 1 - Date Night...(more) The Label...(more) Small Adventures...(more) The Tag...(more) A
Spanish Lesson |
Speedos
It's summer. Our thoughts drift to visions of lazing on the beach, the warmth of the sun, the crashing ocean, the hot sand beneath our feet, the smell of suntan lotion--and the hairy-backed man wearing Speedos!
My first experience...(more)
Still Blonde...Runs Deep It started innocently enough. My mother put hydrogen peroxide on my naturally dirty blonde hair at the Maryland shore when I was three. By junior high I had perfected a secret concoction of salt water, lemon juice and sugar that I would apply in specific rituals through the summer. By 16, I had discovered Sun-In. By 18 I had to admit it. I had a problem. I had a habit. Blonder. More blonde. Most blonde. I should have...(more)Still Paying for Original Sin
It was still February and icky out. Slush was the designated fifth element, porous and bleeding its watery gray. I had to be in the garment center, as it's most widely known, though it's also a grotto for a certain kind of pond scum, my show business friends' agents and casting directors. Today's mission is to...(more)
Style
or Fashion?
Take
Your Pick!
Moxie Meets the fashion program at The Academy of Art
College.
If you know Moxie, you know that we view style as a state of mind.
We eschew glam and glitz, opting for style as self-expression and
play-- a visible reflection of who and what you are on the inside...(more)
Over the last 13 years, I have permed, cut, and colored my hair almost every shade offered by Clairol. I wouldn't be surprised if, when I'm 50, it all decides to fall out. I will wake up one morning and find the last remains of my hair in thin wispy strands all over my pillow, then go out to a wig store and buy five different kinds of hair, enough for...(more)
Three
Colors: Black, Red, & Pale
I've stopped buying fashion magazines. Not because I can't
possibly afford the ostrich-feathered handbag or fit into the size
two Capri pants. No, it's the "style" forecasts that I
can't bear. The ones that proclaim what's in, what's new, what's
hot. I am, invariably, out, old and stone cold. With one tick of a
box, some fashion pundit decides that polyester is the new
"cashmere" or, the one that I really dread, that
"white," "brown," "grey," or whatever
neutral color currently adorns the walls of Ian Schrager's latest
hotel, is...(more)
Topless
After an intense study abroad program, I escape to the beauty of the
Mediterranean for some serious beach time without pressure to think.
There I see a woman with more than a few pounds to loose, one who
must be nearly 70 years old and has no trouble taking off her shirt.
All around I see women of various shapes and sizes, nearly naked.
French, German, Italian - wherever they're from - they make
stripping down to scarcely their skivvies on this beach look so...(more)
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