Let's Talk About The Art Of Manliness

Recently I found a site called The Art of Manliness. (I feel as surreptitious reading this site as I did reading wedding blogs back in the day--except I think reading this is healthier.) It has an awesome name going for it and it has nearly 72,000 followers on Facebook. It is, indeed, all about manliness.

I like how the author defines "manliness" here, equating it with virtue (although the site is also full of tutorials on such topics as how to escape a riptide), and I like that the site encourages dressing appropriately, cleaning one's car for a date, and generally being capable and decent.

But for all the virtue, it still seems mired in traditional gender roles, which I'm guilty of, too: Is my thinking a man should know things about cars and home repair and riptides any different from a man thinking I should know things about baking and mending and grocery shopping? Are we still mired in gender roles because men and women are fundamentally different, so there will always be "manliness" and "womanliness" instead of "humanness"?

It all reminds me of a quote from To The Lighthouse, where everyone is at dinner and the young male student is insecure and wants to join the conversation and the single lady painter notices:

There is a code of behaviour she knew, whose seventh article (it may be) says that on occasions of this sort it behoves the woman, whatever her occupation may be, to go to the help of the young man opposite so that he may...relieve...his vanity, his urgent desire to assert himself; as indeed it is their duty, she reflected, in her old maidenly fairness, to help us, suppose the Tube were to burst into flames. Then, she thought, I should certainly expect Mr. Tansley to get me out. But how would it be, she thought, if neither of us did either of these things? So she sat there, smiling.

Let's Talk About Accessories

Specifically, big sunglasses: I found the archives of Life magazine last Saturday and got sucked into looking at pictures of Jackie Kennedy, whose trademark (after Camelot) was big sunglasses.
Then I saw this stylish lady on The Sartorialist yesterday, who is also making me want to talk about leopard print, as well:

I haven't worn big sunglasses in a few years because I think there's a risk, with short hair, of them looking like this. But now I am reconsidering.

Let's Talk About Shoes

Instead of talking about our feelings today, let's talk about brown shoes that aren't too high-heeled. After watching Help! Thursday night, I did some major googling to find a pair of boots like they were wearing in that clip I posted Friday. While all the ankle boots for women this season seem stuck in 1986, I found some: They're Florsheim, for men.


Sometimes I am happy to not have tiny ladylike feet, because a men's size 7 is a women's size 9. My only hesitation? A size 7 isn't available from a site that offers free shipping and returns, so I'd be gambling a little that they'd work.

What do we think about these mod boots? They'd look great with jeans, but not so much with skirts or dresses. But they're a decent price (unlike these $350 boots of magic from Sweden) and I had a pair of jodhpur boots in college that I loved. Also, I could pretend I was a Beatle.

Let's Talk About The State Fair

The deadline to enter anything I've sewn or knitted in the state fair is fast approaching, so I'd better decide if I'm going to enter or not. I've sewn a lot over the past year, certainly, but no project is jumping out at me as particularly fair-worthy. Last year's entries were a silk dress and a jacket--kind of big, impressive pieces--but this year my quilt certainly won't be ready in time,* and I'm still wearing the robe and pajamas, so I don't know.

As for knitting, I think the owl sweater is a candidate, but in my years of fair-going I've noticed that the judges tend to favor huge intarsia projects straight out of 1986:
And I still feel much more shy about my knitting getting judged than my sewing, although I think I do a pretty good job finishing.

Maybe I won't enter anything; maybe my state fair phase is ending, like the derby phase (haven't been to one in two years). Although if I don't go, where will I ever eat funnel cake again? Lots to consider..


*I dropped the quilt off to be machine-quilted two weeks ago, hooray! I think there's another week to go before I get it back and have to do the binding. (Not hooray.)

Let's Talk About The Twilight Movie

This movie made it onto the Netflix queue because I was considering the books for trashy summer reading (along with Anne McCaffery and some Ian Fleming) and I thought the movie might give me an idea of how bad the books might be.

And let me tell you, it was bad. Not so much bad dialogue, or a bad plot (well...), but bad for teen girls all over America: How did a book that teaches you that it's ok to throw all your love at someone who will hurt you--who might even kill you--become a worldwide bestselling romance? Because in real life the person you're throwing your love at isn't a sparkly vampire; he's just going to give you a broken arm. Or worse.

So I don't think I need to read the books--I'll spare myself that frustration (and spare Mr. Isbell the rants about women perpetuating these behavior patterns). (Seriously, Woman Author and Women Director and Producers? You think that because a secondary character asks a boy to prom that this makes your book/movie modern and empowering? Wow.)

The movie ended with a Radiohead song, though. I didn't see that coming.

Let's Talk About My Hair

In the past two years my hair has gone from being this curly:

to what could only be called "wavy" if you're feeling generous. My hair has betrayed me, and now I don't know what to do with it.

In the winter I cut it even shorter, hoping for a Jean Seberg look:
But, in the words of the wife in a Hemingway short story*, "I get so tired of looking like a boy."

It's been nearly 10 years since I had long hair; I didn't do anything special with my hair when it was long (although it was curly then, AHEM, HAIR); and I know I would hate growing it out. But. I find myself staring at pictures of braids and long glossy hair and echoing that Hemingway character:
"I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel. . . . And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes."

In other words, I don't know what I want.

*The story is "Cat in the Rain," from In Our Time.