Slipping into Fashion and Ditching the Pantyhose

My Mama, my dear Grandmama, my holier than thou Aunt J'nelle, and my sweet Aunt Kat all counseled me from a young age - "Never leave home with dirty underwear - what happens if you are rushed to the hospital, what would the doctors think?" Of course they went further to drill in me that a young lady never wears a dress without a slip. I doubt young women these days even know what a "slip" is. But, I digress.

I remember when the teachers at our private school in the late 1970's requested, albeit very politely, to the board of trustees that they be allowed to wear proper "pant suits" to work in lieu of the required regime of dresses. After much ado behind closed doors, the board relented. No doubt the fact that some of the members were married to teachers and wished for peace at home may have had a bit to do with the concession. Life went on and the morals at the institution did not digress into a full "women's liberation" movement as was predicted by some of the old stalwarts.

Although I still enjoy dressing well,  am very comfortable in dresses and skirts, and even "high" heels don't bother me, years ago I took a bold personal wardrobe step and quietly ditched all my pantyhose. In the winter I will wear tights, which I have always adored, however, the diabolical sadist who designed such a thing as pantyhose had it in for women. And women bought the itchy, uncomfortable, and ugly scheme with sheer (no pun intended) joy thinking they had been freed. 

My generation was born well after the hose and garter years. Well, long after that style was relegated to the bedroom and Victoria's Secret. So I have no skin in that game - so to speak. As long as I show up presentable - as in clean clothes (especially underwear) that coordinate (no red plaids with fushia polka dots and orange stripes) that fit correctly and are stylish but not too trendy who gives a damn if I shirk masochism and ditch the pantyhose?

I have a friend who often asks, "Do these people have a mirror at home?" Didn't someone want to stop them from making a fool of themselves or exposing us to their disgusting failure in fashion? One does not have to have money to dress in a way that does not make them look like buffoons. Or worse yet, thinking they are a Milan model in their size 24 body - it ain't pretty. Like my daddy used to say - you can't put two tons of fertilizer in a one ton truck.

A prime example of all this came to me several years ago when I was attending the Celtic Festival and Highland Games. Many people were dressed in costume for the affair. There were colorful kilts and tartan scarves and wraps. Many of the outfits were down right elegant. Then there was this "lady" who either did not have a mirror at home, friends who cared about the impression she made, or she thought she still was that size 2, 16 year old girl she fondly remembered from years ago. And someone wants to castigate me for shucking my pantyhose. Seriously?

This Scottish lass was dressed in a bright red flowing gown topped with a bodice, laced so tightly she resembled a fat pig, complete with rosy cheeks. Added to that, the tonnag she was wearing resembled a tartan table cloth.

Predisposed to be an Old Maid

 As a little girl I was confused and scared of growing up. I had an old maid aunt on each side of the family. The future did not bode well for me. To make things worse, both were eccentric, each uniquely so. The way I saw it, I was doomed.

My mother's sister lived in Boston while she was getting her (first) master's degree at Harvard. My Dad said she was never right after that. It seemed every summer when I went to stay with my grandparents, my aunt was at some different school, in a different place. Once it was Oxford (as in England) for some degree. I never got the full story on that. All I know was the words "high faluten" and "pretentious'" were used in the description. The next location I heard about was the University of Colorado. Seemed she needed to get her second master's (in "God's know what" - my mother's term for that degree). After a year or so being out west she moved on to the University of Michigan for her Doctorate. Somewhere in all this she was back at Duke (her undergraduate alma mater) getting some additional hours toward another degree in some unknown esoteric field. Finally she moved home with 2 masters degrees and a doctorate, where she declared that she was unemployed could not find a job.

My grandparents, who had funded her rather extensive education just wanted her out of the house. Now in their late 60's they very much enjoyed the empty nest. She had continued to come home for visits and holidays during her tour of the various universities, and that was OK, but it never dawned on them, that their investment was going to be the egg back in the nest.

On the other side, my father's sister was 13 years old when he was born and helped raise him. She never left home - as in never. She went to work for the phone company when she was 17 and stayed there for 40 years until she retired. Then she cared for my Granny until Granny died. Her life consisted of work, family, church, and bridge. She was prim and proper - think white gloves, a pink dress, and a Sunday hat. She was a lot of fun because she doted on my brother and me - we could do no wrong. But she could have lived in the 19th century (with the exception of the telephone) and never known the difference.

Between the two of them, I never knew either of them to have a date, escort, or even talk with a man. My mother always said her sister was "too educated" for anyone - who would have her? There were always whispers of a lost true love my father's sister had when she was young (I never knew the details and Lord knows it was not something you asked about.)

So here I was, looking at the prospects (and the genetic predisposition) of either being a roaming student unable to find work or a true spinster, stuck in the 19th century, never to leave home. As a child, at this point, I hoped I was adopted.

I Only Wanted To Play House

Whoever petitioned for women's right to work should have checked with the rest of us. I have no issue with anyone who wants to work outside the house, pursue a fulfilling career, make an honest living, turn around Yahoo, or whatever. However, did they ever consider in their fervor to enter the public workplace that they were letting a large Jeannie out of a very small bottle? 

Once, the men in this country got past the ego stage (well most of them, OK, OK, some of them) they realized this was not such a bad thing. More women in the workforce meant a bigger economy which meant more money for everyone. Well, that was until the Hedge Fund managers got involved. But, I digress.

Then that Jeannie was never going back in that bottle. Husbands realized that the household could now have two incomes, which soon became the norm. The rest is history. And, those of us ladies in the south who grew up thinking that life should just be about taking care of the household and our husband, raising the children, playing bridge, and having teas suddenly found those days gone with the wind. 

Well, a majority of us did. There are still those whose only concern is who has carpool that afternoon, do they have a court time lined up for their morning tennis game, and will they have Chardonnay or Pinot Grigeo for lunch. I know my Aunt Kat told me I should never hate anyone, but she is dead now, bless her heart. I loathe these women.

I would have no pride about staying home.  I have nothing to prove. My Daddy raised me with enough self esteem to know that, if need be, I could do whatever I wanted to, but I should not need to. A lady should be cared for if that is her wish. 

Yes, women should have the right to work, for equal pay, and  respect. I strongly believe in this, as it was drilled in me as a child. Ironically, Aunt Kat worked for Southern Bell for forty years and was proud to be a "Professional Women". While, my Aunt J'Nelle, the biggest 'Women's Libber' - as she was called- that I knew, had only one job in her life, and that lasted two years. Go figure. 

However, those insecure selfish women who petitioned, fought, and argued their way into the workforce did not have the sense of an earthworm to realize that by going about it the way they did and threatening the manhood of every male worker in the nation, they were making the professional road hard for every female following behind. 

Once, you threaten a man, it is like stepping on a fire ant hill - and don't think that you are the Queen Ant. That scenario doesn't fly here. Those women who thought making a public spectacle of themselves was the only way to achieve their goal, in my humble opinion, they badly mishandled the situation.  If you want to conquer men and get your way, every southern woman knows (as should every other woman in the world, if she had any sense about her) stroke their ego and feed them well. And, then make your case.

So while many of my friends seek to conquer the board rooms, the court rooms, and the halls of academia (and many - I am proud to say have!), I have set my personal goal on being a kept woman. Of course, now as I get on up there in age, I realize I have not been very successful at that goal. You know, on second thought, did anyone ever try to squeeze that damn Jeannie back in the bottle?