“Wow. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble. Like, arrested.”
I giggled nervously and glanced down at my clothes as I stepped inside my friend’s apartment. I guess I knew I was dressing a little provocatively, but I wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.
My outfit consisted of a pair of black leather boots, some fishnet tights under black denim cut-off shorts, a long, olive green t-shirt dress, and a comfy black sweater. Over the ensemble I wore my heavy winter coat.
“Seriously. You need to cover yourself up!” my friend admonished teasingly. I giggled again, only partially understanding her fuss. After all, it was surprisingly warm for a winter day, and I hardly had more skin exposed than what I would usually show at school, with my short skirts and bare legs.
When I pointed this out to my friend, she said the problem wasn’t the amount of skin I was showing. The outfit, with its leather components, dark coloring, and tattered stockings, was simply suggestive.
We were attending a small party that night, and the others in attendance apparently felt the same way. “I like the way you’re dressed,” shouted one boy at me from across the room. His lecherous leer had me turning my head away in disgust.
It also had me seriously reconsidering my outfit choice. I told my friend about my discomfort, and she was a bit confused. After all, wasn’t this the reason I had dressed this way? To get guys’ attention?
Huh. I thought about this idea for days after the party. Was I only dressing to attract male interest? Was my self-esteem so low that I was willing to bend my fashion sense to the teenage-boy perception of ‘hot,’ if I thought it would gain me suitors? My inner feminist was outraged.
Of course, I understand that the way we dress is dictated by the way it makes us feel. But from where was I deriving this pleasure? From my genuine love of the clothing? Or did I enjoy the way people—boys—looked at me: the raised eyebrows, the small smiles, the repeated offers to grab me whatever drinks or snacks I desired?
To be perfectly honest, a lot of that made me feel really uncomfortable. I am already a pretty socially awkward person (really, my own parents will tell you as much); make me the center of this kind of attention, and I simply don’t know what to do with myself. I’ll probably wind up sitting in a corner, talking to you about UPenn all night.
A really suggestive topic, I know.
I think it’s clear that there is no easy answer here. Our culture has so warped our notions of female beauty that we almost have it backwards; many of us think that if we are in control of the male gaze, then it is empowering, not objectifying. Therefore, dressing provocatively must be what we want, too.
Heading down that rabbit hole of distorted logic is an intimidating task. Ultimately, the only conclusion I can draw from it is this: it isn’t wrong to want to be complimented on your appearance, or even to want to attract attention from the opposite sex. In fact, it’s basic biological instinct. It only becomes a problem if you allow this need to overpower your own individualistic senses and drive you to do or wear things that you aren’t ready to accept responsibility for.
And as for that leather-and-fishnets outfit? I don’t think I was wrong to wear it—my ability to recognize and ward off unwanted advances shows I have the maturity to handle such an ensemble. And I truly did like the look, so much so that I wore fishnets and black leather boots under my uniform the next week.
I kind of doubt I was trying to impress any boys at Hewitt.
But while my (male) peers and party-going cohorts have yet to catch up to my way of thinking, it might be best if the rest of this outfit stays in the closet—at least until college.