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| 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?!
