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The Right to Frump
4/12/2006 11:56 pm Last Read: |
I remember seeing a chatroom interview which was supposed to be a "Dominant 101". One of the subjects was how to get into Dominant "role". The "instructor" for lack of a better word said something along the lines of "Would you believe I was a dominant if I was in a dressing gown and furry slippers? Of course not. This is why we learn to dress up properly to demand respect." In which everyone fervently agreed and laughed accordingly at those Dominant people who dare to call themselves Dominant without possessing a proper wardrobe. Bollocks. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, people KNOW to get out of my path on a street. If a group of lads off for a curry run start nudging one another and snickering when I stride toward them, they very quickly stop and step out of my way when I make eye contact. They're not doing that for my boots. They're doing it because I'm ME and that's just the way it is. I'm not a target, and I'm not a doormat. That's pretty obvious to anyone when they meet up with me. I love to get myself into more "girly" clothing, but again that's for my own enjoyment more than anything. I like the attention factor I get when going from my usual frumpiness (spending an hour to get all dolled up when my son has yoghurt-and-honey all over his hands is useless, y0) into Bad-kitty space. But that's not something I have time for but rarely. Most of the time I'm downright butch - combat boots and saggy trousers with one of my husband's shirts I pinched, or a hugely oversized potato-sack of a shirt I had to buy entirely too large in order for it to fit across my wide Nordic shoulders. Plunk a hat on and make sure my septum piercing is in properly and that's all I've got time for usually. That's just reality - I can't walk six miles a day in stiletto heels, and it would be a bugger trying to garden with a full overbust corset on. There's a time and place for fantasy, and putting on the trappings, and then there's a time when you have to just get your business done. We all have the Right to Frump on our own time. I wouldn't expect anyone to look like they walked off the cover of GQ all the time. There are times when just sitting in your pants (or less) on the couch and sipping a pint is perfectly deserved. And it sure as hell doesn't make anyone less of a Dominant or a submissive to do so. Clothing is an accessory, but it's yet another one of those things people seem to get so very hung up on. I however, am not. I may like having one or two nice outfits, and I wouldn't turn down the gift of items to wear either. But clothes don't make me who I am. And my clothing choices shouldn't have a damn thing to do with whether I receive respect or not. I don't possess a single stereotyped "Dominant" item of clothing and never have. You'd be more likely to see me in a chemise and pantaloons, or silk harem trousers with a choker and bells on my ankles, or bellydancing gear than in leather and PVC. For some reason that means I'm not "Dominant" and I've been mistaken for a submissive more than once at play parties, even WITH the look in my eyes. Because, as I was told more than once "I don't dress like a Sister." Oh come on...I don't need a secret handshake to prove myself to the "order" or whatever that rubbish is about. I get the same thing from the goth community as well though, though I've been in that subculture since before you could buy the clothing in a mall. But because I don't possess the very latest from Whitby (as if I could fit into it anyway!) and I don't wear black or spend two hours of putting on my makeup just to walk to SPAR, I must not be goth. Ever tried to chase after an autistic child in platform boots? Yeah. I may wear the occasional outfit when I have time to myself to do so (read "never") or when I go clubbing (read "never" again), but I've got a few more responsibilities these days than spending £90 on a skirt made out of crap crushed velvet. Yet I can still talk about the most obscure gothy subjects, possess most of the typical "gothic" items at home, have most of Tim Burton's work at home, read Neil Gaiman's books about the Endless, have more than enough goth music all over the place, can sing my favourites from Rasputina, Cruxshadows, the Cure, and helped found the Oxford Dark Masquerade. I earned my black stripes...but I also reserve the right when to wear them. And thus do I type this with my hair yet again pulled back because it's too much bother to try and sort it out, my husband's dragon longsleeve shirt and an old bellydance skirt I've taken in at the waist as it was too big. High fashion let me tellya...but I reserve the Right to Frump. |
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4/13/2006 4:34 am |
Boy, I could sit and listen to you all day OyaD. Obligatory reading.
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4/13/2006 4:21 pm |
May I be completely hypocritical now and covet your coat? *covetcovetcovet* Ta much. I'm just whittering, but it's nice to see I sometimes make a bit of sense!
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