small works in wool

 

 I'm always happy . . . 

Sometimes I just forget.

-- Jennifer Egan 
from A Visit From the Goon Squad

Love those words. Me all over.  And sometimes it's kinda easy to forget.  Take this morning, for instance, when I went trying on jeans.  Sure, that's just one step above swim suits on the hell-o-meter, but still, it shouldn't require preparatory meditation.

I guess that's why this ad particularly 

rankled me when I came across it 
while innocently browsing a 1951 McCalls:  

NOW MRS HAUFT CAN 

"GO PLACES WITH HER HUSBAND??"

. . .  AND NOW MISS WARD 

"SPARKLES WITH PERSONALITY 

AND IS SOCIALLY POPULAR??!!"

 I GUESS I'M HAPPY THAT 

MISS HARRIS IS NO LONGER SHY, 

BUT IS THAT WHAT WAS KEEPING 

HER SO QUIET ALL THIS TIME?

We had a special family dinner the other night and one of the girls came on her way to a wedding, and therefore was dressed to the nines.  She looked mahvelous, and of course we all told her so.  Gushed, is more like it.  Then she fluttered her eyes a bit in an uncharacteristically girly way and said, "Thank the Spanx." 

WHAT??!!

This from the daughter who not only looks most at home in a backward baseball cap but also is the daring master of all things wheeled?  The girl who went on a shaving boycott for 4 years of art school to protest society's double standards?

Of course, the other two immediately jumped in to discuss the wonders of spandex, but also, in slightly lowered tones and with annoyed sideways glances, explained: "Mom doesn't like those things....Mom is morally opposed to them....Mom has a problem...."

Something like that.

My shapely, and yes, slightly-improved daughter (looking fabulous in her form fitting dress) merely replied, "What?! . . . They make me feel good about how I look."

Hmmmm.  I'm flummoxed. 

I don't think it is necessarily because I came of age in the 1970's that I have a problem with things designed by someone else to mold me into something more acceptable.  And I'm all for girls feeling good about themselves.  I guess I just worry about some of the other things that we got rid of when we made bonfires of our foundations the first time around.

And I suppose I don't really see signs of any of those things creeping back in.  None of my girls are tied to a kitchen, for instance, and clean laundry is not a status symbol for them but rather an unwelcome chore born of dire need and absolute last resort.

So I guess I'll just live and let live.


But be warned, girls of this generation .... 
some of us are watching you.

And we'll step in if we need to.

And for heaven's sake, be happy and feel good about yourselves no matter what size your jeans are . . . she says on the same day she almost did a dressing-room dance because apparently jean sizes keep increasing so she can wear the same size she wore last year . . . .

It's a complicated world.