DO CLOTHES REALLY MAKE THE (WO)MAN?

 

By now we are all familiar with the symbol of the hoodie and why so many have begun to adorn one.  The hoodie (as of late) has become a symbol of injustice, or that of a thug.  It is amazing how one article of clothing could emit such a negative message,however, this got me to thinking.  What exactly does our clothing reveal about our personalities, our likes, our dislikes, our ethics and moral values; what does your clothing reveal about you?

It seems that as times have progressed women’s hems have gotten shorter and their necklines have plunged further; while many of today’s men prefer to wear their denim as tight as most women.  So what does wearing your clothes in such a manner reveal about who you are?  Is it safe to assume that a scantily dressed female is a whore, or that a man who wears skinny jeans is a homosexual?  Our fashion sense is heavily influenced by music and celebrity culture.  Many opt to wear a certain style because their favorite musician or celebrity dons the same thing.  The bikini shocked people when it emerged on French beaches in 1947, but soared to popularity when shown worn by pinup girls such as Rita Hayworth, Ava Gardner, and Lana Turner. If you are familiar with the television program “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding” you would take note of the very provocative nature in which these women dress (many of whom are adolescents) looking more like strippers, than children; however many of these young women remain virgins until marriage.  If a woman is raped does her attire play a role in circumstance, or should “no means no” stand?Is it fair to assume that a man who wears baggy jeans and Jordans is a thug, even if he has no criminal record or has never held a firearm? There are certain states here in America that issue a fine up to $500 fine for sagging your jeans. Where should the line between personal expression and indecent exposure be drawn?

As children we are told to never judge a book by its cover; so the premise of categorizing someone merely based upon they way they are dressed is a complete contradiction of that adage. It seems a loss to categorize a person based upon what they have on, before you have the opportunity to speak and meet with them.  I for one am a firm believer in dressing appropriately for your age,body type, and occasion; however, to totally dismiss someone or generalize a person based upon their attire is prejudice. We have to learn to see people as individuals, because a person is more than just the clothes they wear. 

Fad-u-lous

This week I received my much anticipated copy of Redbook magazine. I was immediately taken in by the cover story; no not the one about how Rebecca Romijn got a flat belly after twins; the cover story about the 31 Greatest haircuts of all time. I opened to haircut feature first thing. Upon first sight the glossy pullout page was quite eye catching; but with closer examination I noticed that the majority of the haircuts featured were of Caucasian women. This got me to thinking about the celebrities who've influenced my hairstyles over the past three decades. I began to look through old photos of myself, and being that I haven't taken the time to put them in a photo album, there were quite a few. My earliest hair memory was 4th grade, it was at that I washed out my Jheri Curl and my mother decided she would no longer comb my hair; I had to get up every morning before school and do it myself. It was the 1987, and Salt N Peppa's "Push It" ruled the airwaves. I was fascinated with their stack curls, asymmetrical cuts, and Peppa's blonde tresses. I practiced with my own hair daily, using my curling iron to form four rows of neatly stacked curls, only to use my claw comb and tease them apart. I would gaze at my reflection in the mirror pleased with my efforts. I even begged my mother to dye my hair blonde, but she repeatedly refused. My box cut with stack curls and teased bangs made me feel mature and confident. My hair was never long so wearing my hair in a short popular hairstyle gave me a boost of confidence. My Salt N Peppa elementary school days passed, and in 1993 I entered middle school, it was within that same year I saw the movie Poetic Justice and Janet Jackson debuted her "Dookie Braids". It was also at that time I fell madly in love with Tupac Shakur, but that's a story for another day...back to Janet. Yes the braids, up until then the public had only seen Janet sporting a weave, giving her a look that appealed to the mainstream media. But those braids, they were everything. Never before had Janet looked so real, so relateable, so...so...so... much like a young black girl like me! Those braids gave Janet an edge, a sort of street cred, and I had to have them too, but I hadn't a clue how to obtain such a look. Little did I know that one of my aunts had a friend who showed her and my aunt could then practice what she had learned on me. I sat on a pillow on a floor for literally hours, my butt and legs going numb, but I did not care. When my aunt was done I looked in the mirror and was in complete awe of the image that stood before me. I mean sure I had braids and beads as a kid, but I had never had anything like this. It seemed dookie braids was an overnight solution to my short hair crisis. But as great and versatile having braids was, they couldn't be worn forever. Once my braids were taken down I went into what I like to call the "Mushroom Era", which due to rising innovations in microwave ponytails didn't last long. As high school progressed, so did my hair styles. I alternated between braids, to short cuts, to weave ponytails, and even went as far as to wearing a fade with a texturizer. With each new celebrity reveal, emerged a new look. After high school I left home and went to college, and while I failed to obtain my degree in business, I gained a Masters in weaveology. I rocked every sort of weave, ponytail, braid, and up-do imaginable. I went from blonde to jet black in a semesters time. My hair was fried, died and laid to the side, it took a brutal beating. All the relaxers, and dyes, and braids left my hair a shambled mess. So it was with a mustered courage I took the plunge and got a "freedom cut." I felt strong, confident, and for the very first time, I felt like a woman. I currently wear my hair in locs (which I refuse to call "dread locs") and I love them. My hair is healthy and growing at a pace I never knew it could. I thought having locs would limit my styling efforts, but it's quite the opposite. I've roller set my locs for a curly look, and I've recently gotten my tips dyed. This hair of mine has been through some changes and my...the stories it could tell. I'm pretty much set on the look I have and wouldn't change it for the world. My five year old on the other hand is obsessed with Nikki Minaj, and is set on dying her hair pink when she becomes a teenager...I'm already dreading the fourth grade.

MIDNIGHT MADNESS

Due to my current unemployment situation I have had a lot of free time on my hands...well as much free time a married mother of two can have.  My current employment status has allowed me the time I've been craving to begin new projects, and to complete the ones I had permanently filed away on my "to do" list. 

My first project came to me in the middle of the night.  It started as a whisper that quickly grew into a resounding crescendo in my brain..."Upcycle...DIY".  What did these words mean?  "Go to your closet." I obeyed the voice mostly out of curiosity.  What would I possibly find in a closet adorned with pre-pregnancy apparel? 

As I examined my closet's contents I saw it...the Holy Grail of DIY projects...a previously upcycled denim shirt I converted into a vest.  What to do...what to do..I can't sew.  How could I improve upon a garment (that I am quite proud of I may add), without spending any cash; and then it hit me...BLEACH TIE-DYE.  Eureka!  I had found a solution to both my midnight boredom and a way to silence that maddening "resounding crescendo".  I watched a few YouTube videos for research before tucking myself in.

The next day I woke up with great expectation, I gathered all my supplies and attempted my bleaching project.  I didn't measure anything, I simply winged it, and although it did not turn out the way I had envisioned, I must say I like it, and I hope you do too.