A chick friend of mine linked to this article: Why the World Needs Kate Middleton and OH MAN did it fire me up. (You also may have caught this similarly themed piece on CBS: Dressing Down a Culture For Refusing to Dress Up, about the Notre Dame professor and her war against “a nation of slobs”).
The gist of the piece is, BASICALLY, that you are a gluttonous slovenly bovine if you walk out of your house in yoga pants, and Kate Middleton is the feminine ideal incarnate because she, you know, chooses to wear fancy crap all the time. Because she has style and taste and self respect. Unrelated to the fact that she LITERALLY A PRINCESS. LITERALLY. It’s my pleasure to bring you this counterpoint.
Spring is here, which means so is the fleshy freak show. Nowadays, the moment the temperature rises above 50 degrees a walk down the sidewalk includes jiggly thighs, bra straps, and buttock curve.
Yipes, not starting off on the best foot here. This is… not the kindest sentence. Thousands of young girls on the internet thank you for giving them a complex about their thighs. Thighs jiggle. It’s physics.
…It’s a put-togetherness issue. Gals (and guys) largely dress like slobs these days. Not so much in the workplace or on a date. But in everyday life. I have no idea what it’s like to dress like a slob. I have never gone to Starbucks in yoga pants. Or taken a flight in leggings. Or gone to Whole Foods in a tee. Never.
WHOA OK GOOD FOR YOU. I really hope you are getting a LOT of self worth out of those accomplishments because you could not pay me 400 Target gift cards to fly or grocery shop in uncomfortable pants.
The ‘not so much in the workplace’ is actually a good point, because yes, you should dress appropriately for whatever line of work you may be in. Same for the many other occasions where there’s some kind of attire standard, because I think we can all agree you should make some kind of effort to look good when the situation warrants. I don’t think we can argue much there. But WHO CARES what you look like at FREAKING STARBIES ON A SATURDAY? Or on an airplane or at the grocery store?! My personal life motto has always been: life’s too short to wear bras on the weekend. I encourage you all to adopt it. It’s liberating.
Then there is Kate Middleton.
Oh GAG dude srsly
… She’s actually really…lovely. That’s the word. Lovely. She just always looks lovely. She wears modest clothes, always goes out in public looking fully put-together, and manages to be exceptionally stylish and feminine. I thought surely there would be some slippage during her pregnancy. But no, she still looks incredible everywhere she goes, even after suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum.
Oh HEAVEN FORBID she suffer “SLIPPAGE” while enduring vomitting so severe she was hospitalized. I think chicks everywhere had a Prince William CALL ME it’s not too late! moment when they got married, but my heart broke for poor Kate when I saw the photo op from her hospital release. She was in cute boots. Tights. Hair done. Make up. Smiling for a bazillion cameras. Can you imagine? I wept for her and considered starting the Free Kate movement. I mean, she chose the life so I guess there’s a limit to the sympathy I have for her, but their kid sure didn’t. Yeesh. It’s a good thing royalty comes with its share of perks to balance it out.
The royal couple really captured the world’s attention when they toured Canada and the United States. There they were, newlyweds in their late 20s, when most Americans their age are still stumbling out of bars and puking or getting lattes in tank tops and Toms, and she swapped stunning dress out for stunning dress and he held his silk lapels together in the breeze.
I repeat: OH GAG DUDE SRSLY. Srsly. Remove your head from his velveteen pantaloons or whatever it is you’re so enamored with. Why are you so offended by what I collect my lattes in? If those two royal twerps had to deal with the same life stresses as the rest of us, they’d be stumbling out of bars too.
They weren’t just playing dress-up, either. They were thrust into adulthood. They had a choice, hide from their responsibilities and live like most other rich heirs, or lean in and grow up. And a part of growing up entails dressing like a grown-up. Although I will admit that even many grown-ups still dress embarrassingly. (…) Sit in a coffee shop in the Upper East Side of New York City for twenty minutes: it’s as if there is a uniform of puffy coats and athletic leggings for women.
Sorry I’m not buying this. Now, I don’t really know anything about how stuff over there works, and I don’t want to short change these poor folks, and I know the guy was in the military so plenty of due respect there, but do those two really have responsibilities? I mean, don’t they just like play polo and wear goofy hats and go on vacation and “tour” for a living? They don’t have to worry about work or money or utility bills. They don’t have to scramble to find roommates when someone unexpectedly moves out of Buckingham Palace. DARE I SAY us filthy legging-clad degenerates are dealing with more adult BS than they are.
It’s a sign of the decadence of our times that women dress immodestly and men and women dress down, not up. Prince William, and his bride especially, are a refreshing alternative to the standard. It’s as if they are dressed for a different era, for a different world. They show the world respect in the way they dress and the way they carry themselves, and it makes me respect them.
I am going to have to disagree and say I lose A GREAT DEAL OF RESPECT for adult men who run around like this…
The author concludes…
So let’s show each other respect—button up and dress up.
Yea, no, suck it. I actually do not care what you wear and promise to not feel offended and disrespected by your wardrobe choices so long as your private parts are not in my view. I guess as I get older and wiser (wiser in air quotes) I am finding myself asking the question: will I care about this as I look back in my life? God willing I will live to be an old lady and will I look back and say, gosh I wish I had spent more time in Ann Taylor pants. I wish I had spent more time in front of the mirror with a hair straightener. I wish I had done more to raise awareness about the “fleshy freak show” that is womenkind. No. Life is far too short to take yourself this seriously.
As a matter of fact, one of my fondest memories is all the years Jeff and I spent as the urban twenty-somethings that this writer so despises. Yes, there was probably bar stumbling, but my favorite thing was all the weekend mornings we woke up and took Chooch to the dog park. We’d skip showers and put baseball hats over dirty hair, I’d wear gym shorts if it was warm or yoga pants if it was cold, we’d go to Caribou and get coffee (YES IN THOSE VERY SAME YOGA PANTS OMG COVER YOUR CHILDREN’S EYES), and just mill around the park. With about a hundred other people dressed the exact same way, all of us wordlessly declaring to the world– we were stuck for 5 days in skirts and ties and high heels, Saturday morning belongs to ELASTIC, SUCKAHS.
Leggings Are Comfy Deal With It