For REAL?

I may be betraying my fellow ladies, my womanhood, and even my own body by writing this, but in all honesty, I don’t care.

The Dove campaign has been controversial since it came out. Was it airbrushed? Is it all-natural? Blah, blah, blah. In my experience, even pictures that don’t necessarily need to be airbrushed are. I airbrush, crop, red-eye reduce almost every single picture I post. Why? Well, because I don’t want to be remembered as the girl with the breakouts, the wrinkles, or dare I say it, the cellulite. Even though these ladies participated in an “all natural” display of womanhood and femininity, I’m sure they have no problem with having a little airbrushing performed on their not-so-perfect bodies. After all, this is a representation of them to all of the United States (and parts of the world), including their friends and families.

Realistically, this is not a picture that I would pay attention to, unless I was searching for the imperfections that I can compare my own body to. I honestly look at magazines to see how amazing the girls look, to see how the clothes fit, to have something to strive for (among other things); physically and financially. This picture just doesn’t motivate me. I don’t want to look like any one of these girls. I want to look like Kate Winslet or Beyonce. Those are my ideal body types. And, although I haven’t seen them in their underwear…I’m sure they are beautiful and totally unrealistic. And that’s how I want it. The part of them being unrealistic is what draws me to them. I mean, is there one woman out there that posts pictures on her frig or mirror of the girl next door with the perfect body? No. We post pictures of Britney Spears (pre-baby) and models for the latest Dolce and Gabbana ads.

Also, men don’t find the Dove ads attractive either. What guy stops and stares at these ads when the one next to it is a woman with a long torso, C-cups, and an amazing tan?

I may be just feeding into the pop culture ideas of what is perfect. I may be causing eating disorders among young girls as we speak. Publishers and photographers don’t have the right to tell us what we should look like, I know. But, that’s not my point. My point is, perfection is in the eye of the beholder and although these models and celebrities are airbrushed, there is some truth to how they look on TV and on the shiny pages some people worship daily. And, if that’s what motivates you, who am I to say it doesn’t belong on your refrigerator?

Fur and All Things Fluffy

So when I tell my temp agency that I want to work in fashion. I think they assume ANYTHING in fashion is ok with me. Well it’s really not.

When I walked into Betmar Hats during Christmas vacation and saw there were only two people in the office (the owner/CEO and his assistant), I expected to be answering calls, filing, faxing, copying…you know, all the administrative tasks one of the regular cubicle occupants usually does. I met the owner shortly after this thought. He was a sweet old man. He led me over to some boxes and dumped all the contents of one onto the floor. “Take inventory and repack all of these,” he says as he points to the towering piles of boxes that seemed to go on forever. “Can I listen to my IPod?” I asked with a tiny glimpse of hope left in my voice. “Sure, just leave it low enough that you can hear me call you if I need something,” he says with a smile. Yep, sweet old man…

As I unpack and repack hundreds and hundreds of colorful and obnoxious but appealing hats, I hum along to John Legend in hopes that this is all I have to do all day. As the thought crosses my mind, it is interrupted by a shriek. I take out my headphones and look around. “What the heck was that??” I go around the corner and the sweet old man says, “Took you long enough, are you almost done.” Glancing at the remaining 20-30 boxes, I say, “Yep, about a half hour of work left, I think.” He squints at me, pauses for what seems like a minute and then finally says, “I guess you are working pretty quickly, I’ll have another project ready when you’re done…you’re not being sloppy with your work are you?” Hmmm…. “No Sir, I’m more of the fast perfectionist type.” “Ok then, come get me when you’re done.”

“Oh great,” I think, “What next??”

As I continue on my inventory expedition, I notice the sweet old man practically running back and forth between his office and this big closet in the corner (picture the six flags guy skipping around the room, cause that’s exactly what it’s like).

He comes in to check on me again just as I’m finishing. When he sees that I’m still working, he shakes his head and goes into his office. When I finish, I walk slowly to his office, imagining the outfits he could want me to match hats with or the photo shoots he could want me to organize with his hats as the main focus…maybe he wants me to be a hat fit model…well no, my heads too small for that…

The sweet old man jumps up as soon as he sees me walk in and leads me into the corner closet he kept going into. I see rows and rows of different colors, different textures, different prints. Its then that I realize this is the fabric closet. Maybe he wants me to match fabrics and designs to create something; maybe he wants me to help him with ideas for the Spring collection. My mind races as he takes out a huge bag from the corner and says, “These are all our Spring season fabrics.” “Oh how fun,” I think. “I get to create something!”

While were walking into the showroom, I realize the only thing I will be creating is a mess. He tells me I will be cutting out 40, 1 inch squares of each fabric for the color swatches. He gives me this little rotary cutter (imagine a very tiny pizza cutter), a ruler, and a fabric cutting board.

In home-ec class, I would often avoid the sewing projects or get someone else to do it for me. While growing up (well even now), if I needed something hemmed, a button put back on, even ironing…I always asked my mom to do it, or I would just throw it away and wear something else. I’ve always refused this part of domesticality. So, just imagine my excitement as he’s telling me about the project. And the cherry on top is that I get to use a hot glue gun and glue all these little pieces of tweed, wool, fur, and fluffiness onto paper for the sales demonstrations.

“Why bring four hats when you can bring one hat and a paper with all the colors and textures it comes in on it” he says with a big smile and trots off. Sweet old man…

I start my new project with a little less enthusiasm than the last and just try to focus on the sound of Alicia Keys singing “Superwoman” coming in from my headphones.

Working through the tweed and wool is not so bad. It’s not until I get into the knits and furs that I start to get really annoyed that I am doing this. I had worked through the hand cramps that little rotary cutter gave me. But, with all these pieces of unwound cotton and fur flying around, it gets in my eyes and I start sneezing. I have contacts so when something gets in my eye its like sheer misery trying to get it out. And I have a very strong affliction to touching furs so I saved the angora swatches for last hoping to “not to get to them.” But, I was not so lucky. I got to them and with disgust, cut through the poor little bunny fur. This was not only hard to think about, but the fur was flying everywhere. My distaste for wearing fur was of no matter when it’s actually going into my nose, landing on my arms, in my eyes, all over my clothes. I was on the verge of vomiting when I decided I have to stop.

I went into his office, it was five o’clock. Thank goodness! He asked me if I would be back to finish the project the next day. I just said, “Oh the agency didn’t tell me…I have a friend in town for the next two weeks, so I can’t.” And as I breathe a sign of relief a rabbit hair flies into my mouth and I start coughing.

“Ok then, thank you.” He says as I rush to the bathroom to get all this hair off of me.

It was freezing when I got outside so my walk to Grand Central seemed like it was taking longer than usual. The cold air blows and makes my eyes water enough to move something around in my eye.

More fur.

I’ll be destroying this outfit and taking a scouring hot shower when I get home.