Is Your Hair Too Long?

Friends, I know I'm not going to show up on anyone's best tressed lists anymore.  Those days are long gone and I'm OK with it.  Hey, I'm over 40!

My identical cousin Cathy, in contrast, has beautiful hair: thick, dark and luxurious as spun polyester:

But I was thinking over the weekend as we attached her extensions for our latest photoshoot, is there a point in one's life where long hair is no longer flattering?

Does it have anything to do with age, or has it more to do with the image a person projects (consciously or not).

I'm not a fashion historian and I know very little about hair culture among people of color so I'm going to narrow my focus to so-called "white" folks though I think some of what I'm going to say applies to many races.

My basic understanding is that throughout most of history adult women kept their hair long but tied it back so that it wouldn't get in the way of their work.  They let down their hair only in the privacy of their bedroom, and seeing a woman's hair free and flowing was the privilege of a husband, which is still true among many traditional religious groups today.

Things changed in the Teens and Twenties as many western women gained political rights and began to work more outside the home, in part due to modern inventions like the sewing machine.

In the WWI era, dancer Irene Castle bobbed her hair and started a fashion craze:

A bit later, actress Louise Brooks personified the modern Twenties flapper look, which was undeniably boyish.

Urban women were still keeping their hair short over the next few decades, usually curled or set.

In part this was due to the popularity of hats, which needed to fit snugly on the head.  Long hair was a look reserved for the young.  At least in Hollywood, long hair rarely appeared straight, nearly always in waves.

Any actress "of a certain age" (over 30 or so) kept her hair short.

Short hair for everyone came back into vogue in the early Fifties.  If you watch MGM musicals, you'll notice that around 1950 every MGM actress had her hair cut short, from Judy Garland to Esther Williams.  I remember reading somewhere that Mary Martin, who had to "Wash That Man Right Out of [her] Hair" eight times a week onstage in South Pacific helped to establish that fashion fad.

Big change occurred in the late Sixties, as a new generation of women (and men) rebelled against the old fashion rules.  Long straight hair took the country by storm.

Today, no surprise, we see a little of everything: short hair, long hair, up-dos, perms, weaves, etc.

But do we still hold to the idea that long hair is for the young and shorter hair for the old(er)?  There's a lot of this sort of thing online, where the rules about hair length and age get debated endlessly (primarily among women).

I would argue that with few exceptions, our society still views older women with long hair as a little...eccentric.

And lest you think this applies solely to women...

Wise and worldly readers, your thoughts:

Does a woman (or man) look better with short hair after a certain age or does age have nothing to do with it?  Is long hair on a woman too maidenly to look right on, say, a septuagenarian like Mamie van Doren?

Is it all just years of conditioning (no pun intended) that makes us associate long hair with youth?

Is this a fashion "rule" you subscribe to?  If not, why not?

Let your voice be "haired!"

NOTE: New comments are always welcome and will be read.

Cosmetics for Men: Yea or Nay?

Women, do you ever catch your husband digging through your makeup bag to borrow your concealer?  How about your eye shadow and mascara?  Pay attention!

I stumbled upon this article yesterday in the New York Times:

Men's Cosmetics Becoming a Bull Market

Whether they admit it or not, more men are using cosmetics, judging from sales figures and the number of new products arriving on store shelves. But please don’t call it “makeup” — cosmetics marketers pointedly steer clear of the term, which men tend to find emasculating. 

Got that?

For some reason, articles about the growing popularity of makeup for men turn up every few years, primarily during the slow news season: I remember the last one I read being about some fancy men's concealer Yves Saint Laurent had launched, Touche Eclat.

Ever since the New York Times started its Style section and "T" fashion magazine, there have been more and more articles about men's fashion fads, no doubt to please Times advertisers.  Remember the obsession with the term "metrosexual?"  How about those men's girdles disguised as sports briefs?

But this makeup for men meme-spreading effort is particularly annoying.

Just to be clear: if guys choose to wear makeup, that's fine with me from an aesthetic point of view.  It can be sexy on the right kind of guy -- or even the wrong kind.

What offends me is the old chestnut about men being too ashamed to shop at the Clinique counter at Bloomingdales, amid all the mascara and lipsticks, to buy a product like concealer.

Do we men really need our own product lines?  Is masculinity that fragile that men can't be caught buying Physician's Formula mineral foundation?

This "bull market" in men's cosmetics is, pardon the pun, bull -- sales figures notwithstanding.  It's all marketing and its all-too-predictable effects.  The New York Times is willing to help spread the word: men want (and need) to look younger and prettier -- just like their female counterparts.

Now I'm no towering model of masculinity, but do you know what I use on my skin?

Not one thing.

I don't use soap; I rinse my face with water.  If my skin feels dry during the winter, say, from wind or swimming in a chlorinated pool, I rub my face with -- remember, you heard it here first -- almond oil, and rinse off the excess.  Oil is a great dirt remover, too, and it protects the skin.  That really is it.  A great way to exfoliate is to have a good sweat from some intense aerobic exercise like running; my skin always feels smoother afterwards.

Maybe not the best system for an acne-prone teenager, but it works for me.

But back to makeup.

Author Quentin Crisp generally wore powder and lipstick and it was considered quite shocking at the time.

But he was the type you might expect to wear make up (wink wink.)

The New York Times would have us believe that the time has come when even "a Customs and border-protection officer who is 6-foot-3 and weighs 240 pounds — and whose uniform includes a 9-millimeter handgun" is wearing concealer.

Get it? (NOT a pansy!)

Ho hum.

Readers, what do you think? 

Do the landfills of the world need more empty plastic bottles of men's grooming products?  Do guys need to slather our skin with more toxins to make ourselves more appealing?  Do you prefer men with nicely groomed eyebrows and a clear complexion?

Ever caught hubby with his hands in the foundation jar?

Why can't you just love us as we are?

Your thoughts, please!

Is Glamour Dead?

I just borrowed what looks to be an interesting book yesterday entitled, "Glamour, A History" by Stephen Gundle, a British writer.  It's a study of the concept of glamour throughout history: its origins and its varying definitions during different eras (the 1930's and 40's in particular), up to and including the present.

I haven't really started it but it's already got me thinking:  Do women aspire to be "glamorous" anymore?  Glamour seems to me to be a dated concept, at least the way I've always thought about it.  For me, glamour suggests drama, artifice, and exoticism -- all missing in today's 24/7 media landscape and the middle class, (primarily) suburban culture we Americans have been steeped in for better or for worse (even if we're not suburban or middle class).

I think contemporary life has just become too informal, too come-as-you-are, too frank about sexuality and uncomfortable with obvious (social) class difference, for the concept to hold any attraction for most people today. 

Most women I know want to be, first healthy, then probably thin, and then some variation of pretty (as THEY define it) -- and ideally a combination of all three.  Do they want to be glamorous?  The very word evokes stylized images like these from Thirties and Forties Hollywood:

By the Fifties and Sixties -- a time of greater economic equality too -- idealized women were more likely to be girl-next-door types than glamorous and remote (I don't think Dietrich ever posed with a fishing rod.):

Today, well......

How about Beyonce, you ask?  Isn't Beyonce glamorous?  Maybe, but if so, what is it that makes her glamorous rather than "merely" beautiful?  

So readers-of-the-female-persuasion and men who hold an opinion on this topic, I ask you:

Does glamour have meaning in your lives?  Are you or would you like to be glamorous and how would you define it?  Who are your contemporary glamour role models?

Conversely, do you think the concept of glamour is dead?  If so, what killed it?

I'd love to hear what you think!

The girl I want to be

OK, let's just get it all out in the open shall we?

When you're a man with a sewing blog and a glamorous identical cousin named Cathy -- people are going to make assumptions.

Accurate, rock-solid, spot-on assumptions.

Now, I love being a man and haven't been (unintentionally) mistaken for a girl since the 4th grade.  But haven't we all-- even the straightest-of-straight arrows among us -- wondered what it might be like to be a member of the opposite sex (or something in-between)?

Who among us hasn't thought about what we might look like or whom we'd choose to be?  (Be real, people; I know that we have a few "Marlo" Brandos among us: I've seen what you sew.)

So yesterday, I received a message on my BurdaStyle "wall" from a young woman in Charleston, South Carolina, inviting me to look at what she'd made from the very same pattern I'd used last month to make these:

 

Readers, meet Rebecca, in her "Pink Pank Punk" skirt:

 

After examining Rebecca's project photos (click on them to supersize) and digging deep down to the bottom of my soul, I have decided to bestow upon lovely, young Rebecca my very first MPB Girl I Want to Be Award!

I know, I know, perhaps it's old-fashioned to refer to Rebecca as a girl.  You're missing the big picture here, people, especially since I am probably old enough to be Rebecca's father.

Let's get back to the skirt Rebecca made, shall we?  Here's the pattern I used, a copy of which Rebecca found online and purchased.

And here's Rebecca's version in pink linen, from the front:

And here's the back. 

 

I will say I was an eensy bit disappointed with that improvised center pleat but Rebecca openly admits in her project description that she's not very good at following instructions (ironing isn't mentioned).  That's when it hit me that, by God, this is exactly what I would have done if I were Rebecca!  All is forgiven.

Here is another photo of our sweet gamine:

This is the photo that put Rebecca over the top to win the Girl I Want to Be Award, hands down.   Honestly, how many ways can you spell adorable?  The whole look is perfect and it doesn't hurt that she was blessed with Esther Williams' shoulders.

 

Rebecca gives her outfits clever names.  This one's called "Summah Time!"  How Peter Lappin is that although it never even occurred to Peter to ever go to the trouble?  He gives his projects names like, "Men's Shirt."

If I were a girl I would want Rebecca's haircut too.  Doesn't it make you want to run out NOW and chop it all off?  So charming.  And how cute are those sandals?  Honestly, I could not have styled a better outfit for myself -- I mean, er, for Rebecca, if I'd tried.

Confidentially, I am a little scared of how Cathy is going to respond to all this given that we're very close and that, in a wig and under very careful lighting, I could even pass for her.  Isn't it starkly obvious that next to Rebecca, my cousin Cathy might as well be Marjorie Main?

Here's another photo of Rebecca, unconsciously channeling Audrey Hepburn, in a demure summer skirt she made out of a vintage sheet from Goodwill!  Now who does that remind you of?  Hellooo!

Sadly, Rebecca is still a college student  (Pass the geritol) but I know one day she is going to come to New York City and be my muse.  Or just go shopping with me.  She can consider this her invitation.

Congratulations on your award, Rebecca: YOU are the girl I want to be!

(If I were a girl.  Which I'm not.)

Please go to Rebecca's BurdaStyle page and tell her how much you like her clothes, her hair, and her total look!

In closing, I ask you, dear readers-of-mine, if you could be a member of the opposite sex -- OK, I'll make it easier -- if you had to be a member of the opposite sex, who would you choose to be?  

Who would be your recipient of your Boy/Girl I Want to Be Award?

And ladies, please, please, please, don't choose me: such calculated kissing-up is unseemly -- unless done really, really well.

Do you have a "look?"

I do not have a look.  Or if I do, I am not aware of it.

I have always wanted a look but it never came naturally to me, which is strange since I was always interested in fashion.  I just lacked the energy to make it happen, I guess.  

It also has to do with my being raised to believe you weren't supposed to put too much emphasis on appearances, as well as growing up male in a culture where men are not supposed to be interested in clothes.

So I've been highly ambivalent about cultivating a look, as well as judgmental of those -- men in particular -- who seemed (to me) to be overly focused on their appearance.

I generally think of dressing up as theater.  It's fun to wear a costume and perform, but I don't want to do it every day.  It feels like work.

Sometimes I wish I wore glasses because they can give you an instant look.  But I'm cursed with perfect vision.

The thing about a look though, is how do you know if you have one or not?  I mean, everybody looks a certain way, but not everybody has a look.

Maybe a look is like obscenity: it's hard to define but you know it when you see it.

Casey and Gertie definitely have a look.

Many people copy the style of a particular celebrity and that becomes their look -- often for life.  In my apartment building, for instance, we have a Liza, a few Farrahs, and something vaguely-Leslie Uggams.  Our Betty Grable suffers from acute senility, poor thing, but she still gets the lipstick and eyeshadow on.

When I walk around the city, or go to the Chelsea flea market on weekends, I always see people -- both men and women -- who have fabulous looks.  It's more than appearing fashionable: they have found a way to express themselves through clothes that is both highly original and extremely flattering.  It's like alchemy.

One of the surprises when I started sewing and getting involved with Pattern Review was how many passionate sewers are turning out ordinary-looking -- albeit attractive -- clothes.  No doubt they fit better than RTW (ready to wear) and are constructed of higher quality fabrics, but sewing for most people isn't about creating a look, or at least, not one that I can readily discern.  Most people just want to look nice. 

When I think about looks, I remember something I read about about one's identity in some psychology book: There's the you you are, the you you think you are, the you others think you are, and so forth.

I think you could say the same thing about your look:  there's the look you have; there's the look you think you have; there's the look others think you have, etc.

Then I'm reminded of the old "if a tree fell in the forest" question:  if you think you have a look, but nobody recognizes it as a look, then do you really have a look at all?

This can get confusing and potentially vertigo-inducing, like when you look up at the stars at night and wonder where the universe ends. 

So I ask you, readers:

Do you have a conscious look?  If so, how do you describe it? 

If you don't have a look, would you like one?  What would it be?

Do tell.