BARE MID-RIFF

RED BRIGHT SPECIAL

BLACK WHITE & BLUE

Love Thy Fashionable Neighbor

From the movie Closer, Columbia Pictures

I caught myself!  I have come to a startling revelation: I actually check out other people!  As it turns out, I do exactly what has made me uncomfortable for so many years.  As I (not-so) innocently trot up and down the NYC streets, or whilst I sit in the subway, restaurants, at the beach or the park, movies, on my way to work, even at my local drug store, I have always noticed the superfluous attention from male and female alike.  Over time, it became a redundant struggle within myself because, as I now realize, it made me feel self-conscience and insecure.  I often wondered if there was something out of place or distasteful in my overall appreance; maybe toilet paper stuck to my shoe or even worse, my skirt caught up in my underwear, which by the way, has all happened to me, or you.  Naturally, I would get defensive and mumble something like "what the hell are YOU looking at?", or "take a picture, it lasts longer!".  Mostly, though, my only comeback was returning a cold New York leer, evil-eyeing until those nosy looky-loos eventually turn their face away.  My eureka moment (age and experience is what took me so long)  made me realize just how ignorant this thought process really is.  What is most surprising to me is that when I caught myself doing it, I was in mid-thought, critically surveying a womans' outfit in all my squinty eye glory, uh...from the glare of the sunlight, of course.  All of the dos, don'ts and wont be caught dead ins, meanwhile answering my very own question.  DUH! I quickly came to terms with the fact that I too was doing the checking out.  The finger-wagging fashion witch would appear on my left shoulder, whip out a fork shaped tongue and whisper little acerbic quips:  

What is she wearing?

Why is she wearing those shoes with sweatpants?

When is it okay to wear pink camoflouge?

Where is that 40 y.o. going in that tutu?

How is she getting away with pairing those two colors without being admitted directly to the psyche ward?

Most of the time, though, its endless mental queries like Wow, great blouse or Who makes that and better yet, Where can I get that.  It's often said that women dress to impress other women, leaving men as the secondary target.  I have often defended the fact that that I really do enjoy the process of  dressing up, dressing down, putting smart pieces together, pairing colors, and trend-experimenting.  My second defense is that I really do like when my husband stares at me like he hasn't eaten in days and I'm tonight's dinner.  I am also embarrassed (not by much) about this, but I can appreciate the occasional cat-calls.  I can agree that, when done right, it can certainly put an extra pep in your step receiving an unexpected compliment from a complete stranger, especially from another women.  People-watching in New York has certainly opened my eyes in all levels, appreciating the seemingly minute details as well as the measures one takes before they prance out of the front door into the unsuspecting world.  It speaks volumes when the hair, makeup, outfit is put together just so.  Its damn admirable for me to see a woman in full makeup on her way to the office, for example.  As someone who opts to sleep those extra twenty or so minutes, then resort to shakily apply mascara, on a moving, wobbling subway, I can honestly say that I appreciate that effort one takes to wake up early and do it right.  Some women say they wouldn't be caught dead walking the streets without putting their face on, or wear sweats, or like me, thump around in sneakers.  Seriously, how sexy can you be in a pair of Air Jordans, right?!  After all, in these diverse crowded streets of New York City, there is surely enough room for us all, so why wouldn't we be curious?!