Men Are the New Women Part 2

OK..

I had to regroup and really think about where I was actually heading with this train of thought. 

So I left off with the idea that in contrast to, or maybe even in response to, the increasing freedom of women to defy gender constructs in modern society, men have begun to rigidify the constructs of masculinity to almost unattainable standards even for the marlboro man.  This is especially prevalent in the gay community, where such behavior is ironically sought after.  Regardless of the fact that a man may be gay, the less perceptibly gay his behavior is, the higher his standing in the gay social hierarchy.  All I can think of is that this is really some specialized form of self-loathing.  Be what you are, but reject it at the same time. 

I speculate that "gay" behavior,  if there can be said to be such a thing, began as a way of sending signals.  In a world gone by, where homosexuality was less accepted, one needed ways of signifying to others that they were "on the same team," so to speak, without actually coming out and saying it; A flick of the wrist, an expression of taste, spring in the step.  It made sense to emulate more typically feminine behavior, I think, because the underlying idea is that a gay man, like a straight woman, share aspire to love men.  Today, of course, gay men are free to simply say so in most circumstances, and the behavior is no longer crucial.  However, it has become engrained in our culture, and continues to be pervasive.  But as with all social hierachies, one can't rise to the top without a scapegoat or way of putting others beneath you, and here enters the term "straight acting."  A badge of honor indicating that although a man might sleep with other men, he should by no means be associated with them.

My belief is that gender is an invention of the mind, or the collective consciousness, and therefore behavior or appearance, at any point on the spectrum, can't really be directly linked to biological sex.  You'll be who you are, physically, biologically, and socially, but the links between the three don't necessarily need to be as black and white as we've been led to believe.

So men have boxed themselves in, and women have a history of being viewed as objects.  But it turns out that the third gender is really capitalism.  We've been hearing for at least a couple of decades about the horrors of unrealistic body images being  used to manipulate women into fad diets, clothing, cosmetics, and just about everything else.  In the advent of all this recognition, and the damage it has done, someone sitting in a board room came up with a brilliant idea.  Something along the lines of, "Hey guys, we've been going about this all wrong! We've been using sex and allure to trick women into striving for an unattainable image and lifestyle.  That's bad, we get it.   But, we can equalize the playing field! This strategy has worked so well that it seems insane that we've only been using it on half the population!!"

Enter the Abercrombie and Fitch model.

So in the end, it turns out that the whole spectrum of gender, sexuality and appearance is essentially a marketing tool.  As we witness the emergence of a corporate American, nay global, aristocracy, it is  clear that such individuals are above all these constructs.  If you have enough money, all the rest falls away, you're in the club despite sex, color, or creed.  The rest is just a grand distraction.

Men are the New Women...Part I

I'm sure I'm not the first to say this, and I certainly won't be the last.  Anyone with a decent education in art history (this is an assumption of course because I feel that I have a decent education in art history, despite the heroic attempts of massively overqualified mentors) has read John Berger's "Ways of Seeing," and is probably getting where I'm going with this already.  If you haven't or aren't, let me encourage you to read Berger before you waste your time with my crackpot theories.  The book changed my entire perception of art, gender, sexuality and the constructs in which they operate.  If you aren't sold yet, it is a fairly easy read, written for the most part in very accessible language, and will add points to your IQ simply by sitting magnificaently on a bookshelf, or lying next you on your beach towel.  Art geeks like myself will want to sleep with you. I promise.

The premise of the book in ten words or less is roughly this: Men look. At women (as sex objects).  For an encore it goes on to cite a great many works of art as expensive pornography, notes the absence of a socially permissible two-way street version of this phenomena, and decides (quite correctly I think) that we need to clean the lens through which we view a great many "monuments" of art.  The thing that hooked me was the presumption of a male viewer, because, and when you really step away and think about it, despite the fact that there has been a greater proliferation of objectified males in art in the last 200 years or so, it is still a very safe assumption that the viewer is still a man.

From this conclusion I extrapolate the following  :

1. When and if the male nude is eroticized, we can assume the viewer belongs to one of two groups; Gay men or Narcissistic men.  I think it's a fair assumption to assume that even pornography packaged up as if to present the appearance of being for women more likely than not finds itself in the hands of men.

2.  {Preamble to an actual point} Women have fought very hard for equality in all aspects of life and society, they have become freer to express themselves, be assertive, and defy the stereotypical constructs of femininity as mothers, wives, friends, and colleagues.  Think about the Donna Reed archetype of 50 years ago, cheerfully vacuuming the living room in a full face of makeup, pearls, and a sensible skirt from Bloomingdale's, all the while keeping an eye on the roast in the oven.  Like it or not, compared to her grandmother, she was a bad ass liberated woman. One who was allowed to disagree with her husband, have opinions, vote, drive a car, own property, have a career etc.  Ok, we all took that for granted even then, but think about how far women had come from a mere 100 years before. Just by virtue of existing, the Donna Reeds of the world kicked ass.  By modern standards however they would be proud defenders of the status quo, err, the status quo of the 50's...who by virtue of existence today would be seen to set the feminist movement backward.  The whole larger point of this spew is that women have come and incredibly long way in a very short time, historically speaking, and have much more liberty to decide exactly who they want to be, and how they wish to act and appear.
You've still got the marketing and entertainment industry pushing not only unrealistic but downright unattainable body image to today's women but, and here comes the {amble}..

As women have gained personal and political freedom in western culture, Men have reacted by placing such rigid constructs of masculinity upon themselves that I'm surprised we don't all walk around wearing chaps and dangling Marlboro's from the sides of our mouths.

More to come..

Thank the Merciful Gods

Ok, we can all rest easy today secure in the knowledge that the judges of Project Runway haven't completely lost their minds. In the microcosm of aesthetic that is my humble (of not blunt, assuming the two aren't mutually exclusive) opinion, the season finale yielded the best possible outcome given the roster of finalists.  I'm still secretly hoping to wake from a dream somewhere around episode 10 and get Anthony Ryan Auld back in the mix, but given gravity's utterly devastating effect on my recent attempts to fly, I have to assume I'm wide awake. *Sigh*

However,  kudos to the judges for choosing Anya, who has the chance of becoming a real force in the fashion industry, or at the very least a terribly expensive and sought after brand.  I can overlook a somewhat limited scope of creation in light of the fact that everything she's made over the course of the season clearly speaks to an incredibly elegant and unique look that women will actually want to wear.

It strikes me at this point that both Anya and wretchin' Gretchen (last years winner as a result of Michael Kors little publicized brain aneurysm, or some other equally plausible explanation) have a penchant for a loose fitting garment.  The stark contrast lies in Anya's ability to choose exceptional prints, the rights kinds of fabrics, and create a finished garment that looks effortless, light, and breezy; one which also moves with exceptional grace.  To achieve that same breezy effect in one of Gretchen's garments, one would need a wind tunnel and a model with enough extra cellulite to keep her feet on the ground.  They flowed with all the grace of corrugated cardboard, and the color palette was just about as interesting.

All vitriol aside, I was really, really worried that Josh was going to win.  Not because he finally brought something fashion forward to the table, as evidenced by a barrage of day-glow club shorts and plastic collars, but because the judges just couldn't stop gushing about the quality of said ill-fitting, Long Island night club unbuttoned down to the navel traffic cone inspired outfits.  To say they were derivative of 90's gay club culture is an understatement, I found myself wondering what, if any, enhancement was to be had from accessorizing the clothes with glowsticks.

I will pause here, to appeal shamelessly to the ego of someone I know quite well, and say that the editing process for this episode was spot-on.  I was truly gut-wrenchingly nervous that he was going to win.  Solace came only from the thought that since all negative criticism of JM's collection seemed to have landed on the cutting room floor, that his eventual victory would have been far too obvious for reality TV.  But you really had me worried for a moment there, you know who you are.

 Kimberly, I'm sorry to say, never really stood a chance.  Though once again, in sharp contrast to the opinions that ultimately mattered, I was petrified by a turquoise-lamé mini-dress with hoodie style pockets, which they met with unabashed adoration. (PS, you should all be impressed that I figured out how to accent that "é" on a standard keyboard.) 

I was also somewhat taken aback by her response when the question of why she should be chosen as the winner was posed.  However, that could be the subject of a doctoral thesis in anthropology, so for now, I'm not saying a word.

In the end, I really thought it would come down to Victor (whom I realize now I called "Oscar" last week, as he uncannily brings to mind an old friend by that name) and Anya, and was taken aback by his critique.  I personally thought the transparent blouses with a "censored" style black bars keeping his models modest were a definite miss, and frankly don't see why he couldn't just send some visible nipple down the runway.  Overall they would have taken the garments to a more fashion forward level, and let's be honest, who ultimately wears this stuff?  It's not likely to pose a workplace wardrobe issue for my local bank teller, for example.   His floor length black gown, which was panned by the panel, I frankly thought was stunning, Rambo-esque ammo straps and all.  I was all kinds of swarming his custom prints as well. Bravo, sister!

When it came down to the wire, Anya can develop her technical skills, but her conceptual brilliance can't be taught, and Victor is a brilliant technician with interesting but somewhat predictable ideas.  I'm pleased that I don't need to boycott the upcoming "All-Stars" franchise in protest of this season's outcome, and of course looking forward to sharing my venomous and seditious opinions as it progresses!

Project No Way!

As what is sure to be a dramatic conclusion to this seasons "Project Runway" approaches, I find myself asking two important questions: Why didn't I start this blog earlier? And, What the hell is Josh McKinley still doing on the show?

This is the man who brought us an ill-hemmed bright orange gown, complete with Xena-warrior princess bra strap, inspired by a green parakeet. He gave us a decidedly 1980's thrift store slant on the 70's chic challenge, sending black and white plaid pants that would could have renamed Twiggy something like "Hippy," or "Assy."  And lets not forget last week's misfit conglomeration of  Circus Barbie outfits that he passed off as a cohesive collection.

Last night, as one of the final four (we thought) was mentally readying themselves to be ousted, just inches from fashion week, his name was even called safe first, which in the world of reality television and competition shows is a general indication that the decision held no suspense factor whatsoever, despite his being in the company of at least 2 designers who have been lauded by the judges throughout the course of the season.

Of course, this point begs a very serious third question, one that I've been asking long before this season; What has happened to the discriminating taste of the judges?  Though I've long been of the opinion that the judging panel has always secretly discounted true artistic merit in favor of a more mass-marketable designer, I'm still left wondering what it is they see in his designs.  Every other word they've had for him all season was edit, usually used in conjunction with the words like horrible prints, gaudy color palettes, and maybe most importantly, bedazzled.  Yet as they've waited patiently for him to take some of this advice to heart, is seems very clear by what snippets of his collection were revealed in last night's episode that he is sticking to his guns, and waiting for them to wake up and see things his way.

One of my loyal readers, (which comprises at this point roughly 33% of you) made the astute observation that perhaps the judges are afraid of him.  Overly manicured eyebrows nonwithstanding, my money would be on him in a wire-hanger fight with Joan Crawford.  Nina Garcia, however, could probably take him, leaving us back at square one.  I find myself left with the notion that the judges are tasked with a secondary, more subversive objective that simply propelling the gleaming engines of fashion forward.  They are propelling them forward into the twitter stream, and it's working.  I've started a blog specifically to talk about it.

It seems clear that a horrible designer with a penchant for human drama and creating friction among his peers is just as crucial to the mix as more trivial elements of the show, like designing clothes.

I take some solace in the fact that since no one was eliminated last night, JM's chances of winning are decidedly slim.  In fact, as revealed in a series of short clips at the end of the show, he was so displeased to see all his competitors emerge from judging unscathed (especially those who will clearly give him a run for his money)   that his lip curled.  Several times.  I think he knows he can't compete with Victor, but felt secure in his ability to at least rule out Kimberly.  When Anya came through the door however,  I'm pretty sure he understood that he was done.  Cue lip curl, and several snide comments in the privacy of the confessional booth and several million viewers.

Interestingly enough, I checked the viewer poll on favorite designers the other day, and Anthony Ryan was still the clear favorite to win with about 50% viewer approval.  No president in the last 12 years has managed that.  Frankly, I think it would be refreshing if they ousted Josh moment's before sending his models down the catwalk and replaced them with Anthony Ryan's designs.  Talk about human drama.

What is this all about anyway?

The  concept of blogging seems incredibly self-absorbed to me, which is, of course, why I am unabashedly drawn to it.  My work as a massage therapist encourages me to shed my ego, go with the flow and free myself from trans fats, but I consider having a dark side the mark of a well-rounded individual. As a first generation  product of the nation raising its children to believe in the superiority of their mere existence, unshackled by accountability, achievement, or ambition, it only seems natural to ask the question, "Why wouldn't the entire world be captivated by my rantings on pop culture, politics, and the general state of the world despite my utter lack of relevant credentials or experience?"

  It will surprise no one that the spark which ignited the fire under my ass was a desire to vehemently disagree with the irrational decisions made each week by the judges on "Project Runway," (mandatory for homosexuals, but quite highly recommended as required viewing for all TV watchers) as a small effort to protest, however silently, another "Gretchen Incident." Those of you in the know understand. It's really too soon to  tell how far the fallout will reach, but when muumuu's come back in style, you'll know who to blame.

  But then I thought, why limit myself?  Surely I have just as much to say about the world in general, and as inflammatory is kind of my thing, why not make public statements in blind ignorance for, at present, an audience of zero to be shocked, offended, enlightened, and or nonplussed by?

I will try not to sounds too much like a smartass.

Here Goes nothing..