 Remember the post on Bravehearts: Men in Skirts, an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum
of Art? It was kinda long: the piece, not the
skirts. So now, a new, shorter version in time for St. Patrick's Day.
Men
wearing skirts is nothing new. Besides kilts, there have been caftans, saris,
and sarongs, not to mention loincloths (think of them as the first
mini-skirts).
Could this became a new fashion trend? Designers think so, because it "frees
the legs," is "less restricting," and is so "fashion forward."
Really?
Maybe for that hot young model on the runway, but if you're looking for an
actual fashion trend for actual men, don't hold your breath. It will never happen, and here's why:
Last
year, I rediscovered my legs. I bought a jacket — and a matching skirt (I think that's called A Suit). Cute, with a leather strip and flouncy thing on the bottom. This
is not the first skirt I've bought in the last decade, but this time, I
actually wore it.
So here's
the thing. When you wear something feminine, you behave differently (think
tilting of the head, tossing of the hair, crossing of the legs), you have more fun, and you want to repeat the experience. So, when you're off
to meet Alex Simmons for a drink at the National Arts Club (scene of the first leg revealing episode), you reach for . . . the skirt!
Not so fast, Fortunato! It was raining. Really raining. Not a drizzle, not a light shower, but a
drenching downpour, and a girl could get her legs wet and ruin her shoes. With a skirt, you have to
pay attention to these things. They show.
And
so, with a heavy heart — alas, no longer brave —I abandoned all hope of
flounciness and reached for Old Reliable, the black pants suit and black
waterproof boots. And I remembered why I had stopped wearing skirts in the first
place . . . Go to Read More
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 Okay, so it's Defending the Caveman.
Man, as in Rob Becker, who wrote the play. Man as in
Paul Perroni, who performs it on — or pretty close to — Broadway.
But I am the woman whose life it changed the first time I
saw it, more than 10 years ago.
Here's the thing: you know how men leave their laundry on
the floor? And how pissed you get about that? Especially when they leave it
next to or on top of the hamper. Sigh. So close. (Can't they go the extra
inch?) And yet so far. (No, apparently they can't.)
Well, don't get your knickers in a knot, ladies, because
those are not just Jockey Shorts lying there. That's The Circle of Sacred
Underwear.
From the dawn of time, man has felt this
burning need to establish his territory. Modern man is no different, but doesn't have rocks and sticks , so he
uses underwear. Once you, as a woman, understand this, you will be truly
liberated. You will never pick up dirty shorts again. You will step over The
Circle. Carefully. Just in case.
This is great for your relationship and . . .
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So when you achieve it, you're practically speechless.
Words, as they say (using words, of course) cannot express such feelings. But
I'll try.
Would you believe that the very same person who couldn't
find anything in her own apartment (I've Lost It !) and threatened to hire the
detectives of Law & Order to find all the MII's (articles Missing In Inaction) has turned into a "Do I
really need this, no, I'll throw it out and make more room" kind of gal.
Who knew?
As a woman under the influence — of a Closet Cleaner named
Shirley — I have gone beyond mere clothes and shoes, and have even cleared out
the medicine chest over the sink, the one that contains no medicine but lots of
products from Clarins, YSL, Estee Lauder, and Chanel. A lot less than it was
yesterday, though. Plus, I found some nice peachy blush and the perfect eyebrow
pencil.
That's the thing about clearing things out: among all the
junk you should have thrown out ages ago, you find a treasure or two. And it's
free! This shopping in your closet philosophy is definitely an idea whose time
has come.
And now, in the interest of full disclosure, and because a picture is worth oh you know, I'm going
to show you my drawers . . .
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I've been called an aesthete. I've been called a lot worse, but let's not go there.
Since an aesthete is a person who loves beauty, you'd think that was a good thing. No way. Loving beauty is SO last century.
And it's not just this year. From the first time we were told to "let it all hang out," we have been on a slippery slope, slip-sliding away from beauty and moving towards a very unattractive world — although not without contradictions. At the moment, we are breathtakingly ambivalent about beauty, both chasing it and chasing it away.
 Sure, we love Angelina Jolie as the genetic wonder she is, and worship at her lips, if not her feet. As a couple, Brangelina wins first place in the Hubba Hubba Couples Olympics. We also forgive a lot if a person is good looking. Two words: Sarah Palin.
On the other hand, we're really into the ugly, the edgy, the uncomfortable. Take the movie, Precious. Critics loved it, warning that it's a difficult movie to watch. They say this as if you get extra points for looking at something disturbing.
You do get many politically correct points if you don't mention that its star is not merely overweight, but dangerously fat. Extra poundage isn't necessarily ugly; it can be attractive or at least comforting. Think of your favorite, always-struggling-with-her-weight, Aunt Sadie. We used to call it "pleasingly plump," and full-bodied women have been worshipped from prehistoric times to Christina Hendricks on current cover of New York Magazine. Talk about Hubba Hubba . . .
GO TO READ MORE
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 Dear Reader:
Guess what? Today is not just Valentine's day — it's the first anniversary of this blog!
A year ago today I launched something truly dangerous: A blog that wasn't about cats, politics, economics, celebrities, or the political economics of cats owned by celebrities.
Whoa! I have nothing against cats. I like them! They like me.
But I felt there was a place on the blogosphere for essays on a wide range of subjects linked only by the inescapable fact that I seem to see things in a manner somewhat askew. Rather like that sentence, if you get my drift.
 One of the first blogs, and still a favorite, is: I'VE LOST IT! about how the detectives of Law & Order should come to my apartment to find all those things that are missing, because these cops can toss a crib and find anything. Besides, who doesn't love Olivia?
Another was: OH, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TOSS COINS! about losing my  underwear near the Trevi Fountain in Rome. No, really.
Readers also liked IT'S CURTAINS FOR ME about my decorating disasters, and grown women wept over WITH A THONG IN MY HEART, about the heartbreak of buying a bathing suit.
Soon, comments started rolling in . . .
(Go to READ MORE)
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