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Jewish World Review May 18, 2001/ 25 Iyar, 5761
Marianne M. Jennings
http://www.jewishworldreview.com --
BRACE yourself for tis prom season. I write not to complain of the
limousines, hotel room orgies, or the environmentally unsound methods used by
modern teens to invite each other to a mating ritual with theme. This
generation, taught to revere Mother Earth and permitted only one school
holiday called by its real name (Earth Day), blankets yards and homes with
all things paper as their means of an invite even as Oregonians starve whilst
sitting in trees to end logging and Charmin.
Prom attire has proven to be the proverbial straw snapping my sartorial
halter. Women's clothing these days generally gives me pause. "What of human
dignity?" I cry. Prom night is bad taste writ large. I blame Britney Spears,
Christina Aguilera and JonBenet Ramsey. These icons strut in alluring
clothing at young ages. To say young women today dress like ladies of the
evening is unfair to the ladies of the evening who have better taste and no
hypocrisy on their goals.
Pleading the case for modesty falls on deaf ears and apparently blind
parents. Gender theorists aside, young men have raging hormones and the
discernment of javelina. Parents permit their daughters to wear dresses that
require either Frederick's of Hollywood undergarments or nothing between them
and their B'dazzle dresses around high school males who find Pippi
Longstocking a veritable temptress. Prom night sees strapless dresses,
backless dresses, tight dresses, low-cut dresses, and, according to last
week's Wall Street Journal, bare midriffs courtesy a bathing suit top and
full-length skirt with a waist dipped sufficiently low to reveal the navel
and local piercings there.
If the modesty appeal is in vain, the notion that clothes should flatter
what's good, not emphasize what's wrong might fly. There are three people
who look nice in a two-piece prom dress that exposes the belly. Two of them
no longer qualify because they have regained their weight from their Survivor
experiences and Gandhi never did proms.
Proms evidence women's enslavement to fashion despite the fact that haute
couture makes most women look dumpy. Only Laura Petrie, Audrey Hepburn and
Jackie Kennedy could pull off Capri pants. The rest of us look like baseball
players sans the striped tube socks that would conceal nature's lower leg
flaws. Yet Capri pants are a wardrobe staple for most women. Martha Stewart
wore them to a White House State Dinner. We can all breathe a sign of relief
that Hillary didn't follow her lead.
Ironically, at the same time today's fashion grows smaller and reveals more,
shows grow taller and heavier. Young women add teetering as an attention
getter to their half-clothed auras. I followed with eyes of pity a young
lady who had just sung in church as she made her way back to her seat. She
clumped onward in shoes with soles surely manufactured at a Michelin plant.
I wondered, "What of elegance?" Her snug top that barely made it to the top
of a too-tight skirt only added to the adventure in tacky. Jerry Lewis in
his white socks, black shoes and bow ties had more savvy.
There comes a point in every woman's life when she realizes that she has
passed the age of fads. Lycra is nestled beneath all forms of clothing,
including swimsuits, to contain ripples and other tread marks of age. A
woman knows she has crossed into fashion classics from fashion fads when her
bathing suit is never seen in its entirety in public. It remains covered in
some fashion via skirt or shirt. The goal is distraction from troubled body
parts, which now outnumber non-troubled parts.
When the female surrenders and allows the youth of America to be
style-conscious, it is generally a time of grieving for Father Time dictates
fashion. Youth surrenders to gravity and clingy clothes are abandoned as
various body deposits appear those precise locations fashion emphasizes.
However, I proclaim my gratitude for the fashionmongers of Generation Y
for they have made this transition to fuddy duddy a smooth one. I am
grateful for my pumps. They have a sensible one-inch heel and no treads and
make walking effortless. I love the allure of a covered belly. I enjoy a
loose-fitting blouse that leaves something to the imagination. There's
nothing like the mystique of a blazer or the mystery of a covered navel.
More is better. Maybe we could appeal to the teens to carry their blanket
coverage theme for inviting each other to prom over to their clothing
choices. There's a difference between fashion and flattering. Allure
doesn't spring from exposure. Elegance doesn't come from hip. One need not
reveal the latter to achieve the
05/11/01: Selective precaution
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