Showing posts with label Betsey Johnson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Betsey Johnson. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Gurley in a Tight Place: RIP Helen Gurley Brown

Lara, I always have to remember the road paved for me by former rad Girls in Tight Places--women who resisted with every fiber of their beings the narratives that were handed to them, and so I feel compelled today to muse about Helen Gurley Brown, who died yesterday at the age of 90.  (And here is a contemporary version of a women escaping an imposed tight-place narrative.)

Here's what HGB says about her own inherited tight-place narrative, from her obituary today's New York Times:   “'I never liked the looks of the life that was programmed for me — ordinary, hillbilly and poor — and I repudiated it from the time I was 7 years old,' Ms. Brown wrote in her book “Having It All” (1982)."

As for myself, I learned about "culturally appropriate narratives" for girls early in my life while persuing my mother's high school yearbooks that were stored in my grandmother's basement.  My mother graduated from a small Utah high school in 1956.  All of the seniors had "future aspirations" printed beneath their portraits.  The  female classmate's future aspirations were as follows:  "wife/mother," "nurse," "teacher."  I remember being stunned by this.  Three choices?  Really?  Talk about your tight places.

Anyway, it made me feel very thankful I had more than three choices for my life.   

 From today's article in The Daily Beast: 

"In 1962, a decade before Gloria Steinem launched Ms. magazine as the bible of the women’s liberation movement, Brown published her first culture-buster, Sex and the Single Girl. That little book liberated the minds of millions of homely, working-class girls stuck in hardscrabble towns across America where life after high school held no more promise than a job at the 5 & 10, a bossy husband, and no control over the birth of too many children. Brown challenged them to take the same liberties as young men: to enjoy a long and lusty sexual prelude to marriage and to use the rest of the time to build a successful career."

This was, of course, proclaimed during the relatively small window of time in world history between the advent of the Pill and the onset ofAIDS, but you can imagine how radical this sentiment was in 1962.

Helen Gurley Brown of course became the editor of Cosmopolitan magazine--or Cosmo.  I remember in high school being very afraid of this magazine.  It was sexually bold, way too advanced for me, a girl still waiting for her first kiss, a girl who left high school still waiting.  As a Mormon college student, I thought Cosmo was tacky--the covers lurid.  As a budding feminist, the over-sexualized cover girls--displaying not just their face but provocative, cleaving-baring bodies--offended me. Besides, I was taken with the second-wave feminists who were anti-sex, anti "girlie"--a girl couldn't be both "girlie" and empowered, could she? Fashion-wise, it didn't matter--it was the androgynous, boxy '80s and I looked like a boy anyway.  Andrea Dworkin's strident thesis that all intercourse was rape intrigued me.  But for me, it was all theory.

It wasn't until I graduated from college (single, which was a definite swerve from my expected narrative--although I probably would have let someone sweep me off my feet if they had wanted to) and moved to a new city--San Francisco--alone, that I finally understood Gurley's premise without ever reading her:  that empowerment could be dressed many ways, and that what really mattered for women, according to HGB, was to be financially independent (preferably in a career rather than a job).   In San Francisco, I supported myself with a job that might have become a career, had smart friends, a studio apartment, a boyfriend, a Betsey Johnson dress, and a pair of Doc Marten's.  I went out at night and alone, a far milder version of Diane Keaton in Looking for Mr. Goodbar and without the moralistically tragic ending (due, no doubt, to the fact that Mormon girls don't enact the Sex and the Single Girl narrative very impressively).  The summer I turned 25, I tried lipstick for the first time at B. Altman's in New York--(up until then, I always thought my mouth was too small for lipstick, but that's another story), kick starting a life-long addiction. Plus, by then the riot grrrls and third-wave feminism had ascended-- sex-positive, mini-skirted, punk rockers, displacing for me the chambray- bloused folk singers of the second wave. 

Many second-wavers decried Gurley Brown, but third-wavers owe a lot to her, in my humble opinion.

This older New Yorker article sketches out her in detail, including how problematic HGB can be.

This again from The Daily Beast:

"Helen is usually left out of encomiums to the early pioneers of women’s liberation, because she was nothing like the movement ideologues. Helen cultivated a low and seductively breathy voice and gushed with compliments to win people to her wishes. She loved men and sex, and enjoyed using feminine wiles, and she encouraged women not to give up on any of that, ever. But she worked hard to reconcile those natural drives with boosting women’s self-confidence to take charge of their own lives. She believed in chutzpah, “the drive to put yourself ahead,” as she defined the Yiddish word. A woman had to know when to push and how hard."
HGB on her feminism:

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

July 3rd: A Most Auspicious Day

Blueberry Doughnut Plant donut consumed in honor of Lara's birthday
 Before I list all the ways in which July 3rd may be even more amazing than July 4th (Tom Cruise's 50th birthday aside), I wanted to do an Artist's Way check-in, as well as a six-month blogger check-in.  In AW land, this is the week that we're not supposed to read.  I'm not sure exactly what the AW author, Julia Cameron, means by that (like NO READING??), but I've cut down on my reading considerably, and I'm trying to meditate and/or concentrate on my surroundings (including paying attention to the people in my life) more consciously.  I have a new issue of The Onion languishing, and I'm avoiding picking up the free subway papers and reading them on my commute.  A novel I'm reading has been ignored.  Cameron says that "blocked creatives" are frantically filling themselves with other people's words, thoughts and ideas, so this week is a chance to concentrate on one's own thoughts and ideas.  It's a whole process of dislodging--which to me, sounds like so sort of emotional colonic.  Whatever.  I'm trying it (although, I did indulge in some major online TomKat chit chat at the reference desk yesterday--very hard to avoid reading while sitting at the ref desk); plus, I cannot avoid reading my students' assignments for my online summer class.

And quick Blogger check-in:  At the six-month mark, I'm definitely more conscious of the choices I make each day, but I still haven't done enough writing, submitting of writing and yoga.  Something to work on.


Now onto how awesome July 3rd:

Oh, and Lara is also totally gorgeous (here with an empty glass)
1.  First thing's first:  Today is my lovely co-blogger, LARA'S BIRTHDAY!  I merely ride her coattails here, so I'm very grateful for her involvement and friendship, not just on the blog, but in real life.  I say in all honesty that Lara--brilliant poet and critic, inspired foodie (not easy in Provo), mother of five, and insightful friend (just a few off-the cuff observations)-- is one of the most incredible people I've ever met in my life, and I feel lucky to have met her back in 1987. 

That same knee is hurting right now after last week's bike accident.  Photo by JW.
2.  Soon after I met Lara, I made my first foray into the Betsey Johnson store.  Betsey Johnson has long been one of my favorite designers and I've been collecting her clothes since I was in my early 20s (and quite flippantly and perhaps foolishly, gave many of them away).   Above is a photo of me in the first Betsey dress I ever purchased, which was from the Fillmore Street store in San Francisco September of 1987.  Over the years, I patronized Betsey's stores in Los Angeles and New York, her tiny Thompson Street store 1989.  In fact, I remember thinking that any city I lived in had to have a Betsey Johnson store:  one of the first places I visited when I moved to NYC for real in 1995 was Betsey, where I purchased my birthday dress.  Now it's 2012,  and she's closing all of her retail shops, plus her online store, and so I took my oldest kid there today, July 3rd, to pay our last respects.  My kid picked up a skirt at a deep discount, and I bought several logo-ed wooden hangers for a buck a piece.  Although I rarely wear her clothes in middle age, I feel like a chapter of my life has closed.

3.  On July 3, 1992, I flew into Paris for the first time in a Betsey Johnson dress.  It was not lost on me that this date was the 21st anniversary of Jim Morrison's death, a rock star that had kickstarted my interest in poetry when I was a teen.  Later that night, I would visit the closed Pere LaChaise cemetery (where Jim's buried), a crazy Parisien who carted fake impressionist paintings in the trunk of his Citroen in tow.

4.  It now goes without saying that for me, at least, July 3rd is far superior to July 4th.  Happy, happy birthday Lara!!