Guardians of Virtue

A few weeks ago my daughter, who is a hair stylist, had a hair show. It was the “final exam” for her year long apprenticeship in the trendy salon she works for. I knew the style of the show would be funky and hip and not wanting to appear as the un-funky, un-hip mother, I searched my closet for something purchased since we started writing 20 before the current year. I figured black was the best choice, so I put on black tights, boots, blouse and skirt with a long black sweater/coat. I was rocking the middle aged emo-look. We attended the event and about halfway through I realized that the black skirt was a little short. It hadn’t been that short when I bought it (quick calculation = 1998). Perhaps I had been five or 20 pounds lighter then and it didn’t have quite as much area to cover. Hmmm.

After her hair show (which went fabulously), I stopped at the store to pick up some things Walking through the store, I kept getting looks. Not the “wow, nice outfit” looks, but more the “what on earth is that woman doing wearing that outfit" up/down looks from other women. My first thought was of course defensive. “I was at a hair show,” I wanted to announce, “I fit in there.” Then another thought occurred to me.

I often see women giving other women these once over looks of disapproval. I sort of always chalked them up to jealousy when another woman looks better than they do. But I wasn’t looking particularly good and as I thought about it, I realized it was universal to all women seen as inappropriately dressed. I’ve given that look to my own daughters and countless other young women at the mall wearing can only be classified as beach attire.

Instead of getting defensive, I thought about it. Whatever the motive, the sisterhood was sending me a message; “Girl, go home and change!” What if we as women willingly submit ourselves to one another in these matters? At the risk of sounding like a 1950’s home-ec text, we should serve as guardians of one another’s modesty.

We all have moments of delusion in the dressing room or bathroom where everything is all sucked and tucked in and we think, “I look gooood,” only to be appalled later by some picture taken from the side when we weren’t tucked or sucked. Or maybe we aren’t appalled because we really like the attention garnered by pushing the envelope of appropriateness. This is where we need our sisters to speak the Truth. We need those who will say, “that is too short/low/high/tight/transparent,” whatever. And then we need to listen without defensiveness.

I know that if my mom had been at my house when I walked out in that ensemble, she would have given me the look (possibly while trying to stop the tears of laughter). Mom wasn’t here, but the women I ran into at the store were filling her shoes. I took heed, went home and put on pajamas. Then I hung that skirt in the back of my closet where it isn’t allowed out until it fits like it did in 1998. Or better yet, maybe I should go shopping and get some clothes from this decade. I’ll make sure to take some girlfriends with me when I shop and I will listen when they “look.”