modesty, practicality, and general hotness

JUST IN:  Wearing a purse in "a cross-body fashion" is, evidently, immodest.

I had no idea. My people, my in-real-life friends and I, don't really discuss the whole modesty thing, because, for us, it's not a thing.  I only became aware of the modesty thing because every summer from my perch in the sound booth I watch the education and indoctrination of the youth of a very conservative religious community.  For them, modesty is a THING.  Every summer there is the inevitable scolding of the youth for shouting modest is the hottest in the general direction of the cheerleaders in the lunch line, an impassioned urging of the youth to set an example of charity and kindness as Heavenly Father's chosen ones.

So while modesty is not a great concern for me, I was aware that it is for others. I was not, however, aware of the cross-body purse issue.

I have always worn my purses in the "cross-body fashion."  (Well, purse, singular, for the last sixteen years — if it ain't broke, don't fix it.)  Not because I am trying to make a fashion statement, but because it is practical to have one's arms free.  I have been a parent for nearly my entire adult life, and that first child insisted on being held at all times.  And the second boy, as soon as he gave up the marathon naps and started crawl-sprinting, made a beeline straight for the back door, right past the mommy's open arms, and thus began my career of snatching him from the jaws of death. Repeatedly. Keeping track of a cute little clutch in either of those situations would have been... impractical.  (Don't even get me started on diaper bags in the 90s.)

And I think this is what bothers me about all the discussions about women, clothing, fashion, modesty.  The only time that usefulness and practicality are considered in the equation are when sports are involved.  Sure, I love the items a gal can buy from, say, Athleta or title nine, but, again, they are too pricey to be practical for a person who buys most of her clothes second hand.  Yes, those clothes should be available, and those companies filled a need, belatedly, in my opinion, but, gosh.  Why are practical clothes intended for a person who moves considered specialty items instead of the default?

The fact is, most clothes for women are designed to be seen in.  Even the clothing store that caters to the conservative religious community I work with, even those clothes which cover the shoulders and midriff, are very form-fitting, accentuate the breasts, sexy. Beautiful, yes.  Practical?  Ha!

I do not actually have a problem with sexy.  I do feel a great deal of sympathy, however, for the co-eds I see hobbling across campus in shoes that were (obviously!) intended to be worn as one poses half nekkid against the doorjamb to lure one's beloved into the bedroom, then immediately tossed away.  And I feel even more sympathy for the shivering, blue-lipped women risking frostbite because they can't wear a damn coat or clothes that cover their arms and legs in torrential rain or even sunny-but-below-65-degrees weather.

Back in the olden days when I was working in the church, we held our staff meetings in a drafty corner room with big windows.  A gal who was about my age, thirty, very fashion savvy, an artist, (whose job there I cannot for the life of me remember), would sit through meetings with goosebumps on her arms and legs, suffering, all winter long.  Her clothes were beautiful, but they were clearly summer clothes.  (And here even our summers are pretty darned chilly.)  

One evening we were at a social gathering, and this woman finally unleashed her disdain of my wardrobe. Perhaps she intended to be funny and gently teasing, but the effects of the wine, well...!  She let it rip.  I don't remember her exact words, but I remember exactly what I was wearing: a knee-length corduroy button-down dress, tweed patterned tights, Mary Jane shoes, and a silk neck scarf.  I also remember her suggestion that I didn't have to button the top button of my dress, that I could wear contacts, that I could wear hose or go bare-legged instead of wearing "old lady stockings," that I didn't have to "choke" myself with the scarf, that I could let it lie loosely around my shoulders.

I was taken aback.  But I learned something — that what I thought was attractive and practical appeared prudish and dumpy to her.  I might be misremembering, but I'm pretty sure she used the term "schoolmarm."  Her vehemence, her manner, suggested that she found my choices an affront somehow.  An affront to her.  And she seemed to think I was hiding my body, when in fact, I was trying to stay warm.  As a slender person (was she jealous?), I have always had a hard time staying warm.

Parenthetically, I will mention here that knee-length skirts and dresses are ideal if your transportation is a bicycle.  What that artist woman did not consider, perhaps, is that a woman in ordinary clothes, a skirt, on a bicycle, turns heads. Rubbernecking.  It isn't pretty.  But, it happens.  

While I agree that paying attention to the impression we make is important, and that being mindful of context and venue when making clothing choices (for women and men) is also important, the fact is that my choices, ultimately, don't have anything to do with that woman, personally, or any man I might encounter.  I've been accused of dressing prudishly or frumpishly occasionally, since then, and recently I got some flak from a Facebook friend, a guy friend, about my "1950s housewife" sensibilities.  But again.  Not my responsibility to to dress or behave in a way that is flirty or amuses or delights you.  And the opposite is true, too.  I am not responsible for your sexual urges.  You go ahead and take responsibility for those, guys, okay?

That same baby who crawled past his mommy is now flying airplanes, so while I don't need two hands free to save him from death, if that were even possible, I'd still prefer to have that freedom, the use of both arms, even if it means risking immodesty.  Whatever that even means.