growing up, my older sister inculcated me with wisdom and truisms on how to be a woman:
-always alternate between 3 different types of deodorant. it is easy to become "immune."
-never eat fish. they are slimy and will swim around in your stomach.
-tweeze or wax your eyebrows. no stray hairs.
-it's okay to not wear a bra if you don't feel like it.
(and perhaps most importantly...)
-never, ever go anywhere without your toenails painted.
two weeks after a few college women wore flip flops to the white house, reporters, fashionistas, and cotillion teachers are still flipping out.
"the casual clothes culture in this country has gotten out of control!"
"i don't care how fancy your flip-flops are - they are inappropriate for important events."
"donning beachwear when meeting the head of your government is showing disrespect: not just for him, but for the whole institution, for the place, for your country itself."
"the downfall of society is upon us!"
the brouhaha is absurd. women's shoes are becoming more and more uncomfortable, albeit sexier. you think my toes fit naturally into pointed shoes?
i'm reminded of an incident from sleep away camp. we were getting ready for a social with a boys' camp when i put on a pair of high heel sneakers (don't lie: you had them too). i complained about them to a friend who looked me in the eye and replied, "women [or we as 11 year-olds?] must suffer to be beautiful."
i vowed at that moment that i would never suffer. okay: at least, i try to minimize the self-masochism.
i wear flip flops everywhere. i wore them around the media tent at the democratic national convention 2004 in boston. i wear them to work. i wear them to thanksgiving dinner. i wear them to the pool. i wear them in 33 degree weather (i advise against wearing them in snow; yet i still try to every winter). i wear them to black tie affairs under my long formal gowns. i have vowed to wear them under my wedding dress. in fact, i can't think of a bad occasion to wear flip flops.
and frankly, if flip flops are good enough for my family and co-workers, then they're good enough for the president too.
women's fashion continues to spiral downwards. first it was mini skirts. then it was tube tops. now it's pointy shoes. for the record, i wear all of it, but let me say that none of it is particularly comfortable. why do we undergo self torture in order to meet an imaginary beauty ideal? do we see an association between beauty and power, and that by making ourselves more attractive, we have a better chance of holding a high place in our social hierarchy? how come we learn as early as age 11 that women must suffer to be beautiful? is comfort insufficient?
as far as i'm concerned, if you're so concerned with what's on my feet, then your priorities are in the wrong place.
nevertheless, my position of flip flops is qualified: if you are going to wear flip flops, then you better have your toe nails painted (truism ala my sister); otherwise, stick to closed-toed shoes. that's the only determining flip flop factor i can identify.
what can i say? my sister's advice on how to be a proper woman has stuck with me.
"be careful whose advice you buy; be patient with those who supply it. advice is a form of nostalgia. dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth."
but trust me on the painted toenails.
