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Mariah Bush Les Hutchinson Intro to Research Writing 299 7 October, 2013 Clothing and Controversy Jumping, squatting, tugging skinny jeans up our meaty thighs, we struggle to fit into our favorite pair of jeans. The little bit of ice cream here, and tad bit of greasy McDonalds here, has finally caught up to us, and the first world struggle is real. Yet as an American society wedging into the current fashion trends, we never take the time to consider the true struggle that our past clothing revolutionaries went through to bring us our style norms of today. We never consider the disdain, judgment, and barriers that our fashion ancestors had to overcome. As women slip on their thigh long dresses, they never consider the women bashed with explicates for wearing the exact same dress 30 years ago. As men slip into their skinny jeans, they never consider the men accused of being a fag, homo or gay, for daring to wear such clothing in public. We only think of the image we are creating for the rest of society to judge us by and place our value in. We buy our clothing to make us look legendary, never thinking of the legends who fearlessly paved the way for us, amid persecution. Go back and change, you arent wearing that out in public. Do you WANT to look like a floosy? I hear my mothers voice ringing in the back of my mind even as I dress myself to this day for college. Instilled from a young age that women should dress modest, I was constantly battling my mother as I grew older, in numerous department stores about which shorts I could

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purchase based on appropriate length. But how can one decided what an appropriate length is? Is there some secretive universal guideline all mothers obtain that their children never see until they themselves are mothers? These questions were a constant, and bitter, struggle I had within my 98 pound, 7th grade self. Who was my mother to tell me what I could wear? I had a mind of my own. A style I wanted to create for myself. Yet somehow with one sharp warning glance, my mother could strike enough fear within me, I would place back the booty shorts in fear God himself would smite me with lightning from His own hand. As I grew older, I gained more freedom. Limited freedom mind you, yet freedom none the less. With my freedom came new responsibilities: later curfews, the ability to drive myself where I wanted, when I wanted, (as long as mommy dearest approved), and my own choice of the clothing I would wear to school that day. Now to some this restriction on my clothing as I progressed into high school would be considered ludacris. Yet in my home, this was a constant and unwavering norm. While I was allowed to dress myself by preference, my mother always had her way of indirectly disapproving through snide comments and remarks. Choosing a short dress with a lower neckline might result in a comment such as, Oh Mariah! I forgot to tell you, I just did some of your laundry! Your leggings and camis are sitting out on the dryer if youre looking for them. Or even, You know I heard its supposed to be very cold outside today. Maybe you should wear something warmer? (On a 75 degree day). Yet the worst of all, was the guilt by parental pride, You know Mariah, just the other day I was talking to Taylor and she told me she could not BELIEVE the clothing, or I guess I mean, LACK of clothing these young teenage girls are wearing around these days. But then do you know what she said? Mariah I tell you, she said But that daughter of yours is a gem! Shes always dressing modestly and it is TRULY an encouragement. I tell you she said it Mariah! You always make me so proud! And

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with that, I would trudge into my room to change into a dress that would continue to make mommy proud. After experiencing freedom during my high school years, I soon made the most glorious discovery upon entering college. There is a difference between freedom, and independence. College meant being miles away from home. Independence meant making my own decisions, free of parental ridicule and disapprovement. I had the authority in my own hands. Walking campus the first day of college, I was overwhelmed by the different styles that fused from this new cultural realm. At times I found myself gawking and judging others appearance, innocently enough from my restricted upbringing. Yet as the days progressed, my flirtation with the idea of dressing in ways considered risqu by my upbringing, soon turned into action. This is not to say I followed by dressing in shear tops, with belly exposed, butt cheek falling out, and cleavage deeper than Grand Canyon. Yet I did find myself able to wear my skinny jeans without being anxious. Able to wear leggings under a simple sweater without being told it looked inappropriate. Able to wear a v-neck without my cami pulled up to my uvula. I was able to create my own ideas and thoughts on style. With this hazardous taunt with fashion forwardness, I found myself thinking of the past clothing revolutions and revolutionaries. As I recalled the variety of clothing on campus I had previously previewed, I recalled no one else frozen stiff, shocked at other students clothing choices. It was a norm and it was accepted. Yet at the same time and sense of questioning overcame me. Was there to be no limit to obscenity due to this revolutionary thinking? Where was the line drawn in the sand between the accepted and the lude? Arent their boundaries put into place for a reason? Guidelines and norms are set in stone for a reason right? Wouldnt limitless freedom on clothing preference, or lack of clothing preference for that matter, be the same as if there was no government to control the people?

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Wouldnt that just warrant absolute chaos from the people? On second thought, maybe society can handle itself. As the weeks have passed, I myself have slowly come to accept it as it has become a new heteronormative for myself. Yet I had to wonder, what all did our founding fashion fathers have to go through for our clothing that is even now accepted by all, to be considered a norm? 1937. Two women walked down the street holding hands as men gathered in a pack, like wolves eyeing baby lambs for an unintended dinner. As I stared at the image, my mind overflowed with questions.

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The picture was captured Women Wearing Shorts in Public for the First Time. My eyes scanned back and forth over the image from the women to the men, to the car at the lightpost, and back to the womens exposed legs. According to the Huffington Post, this photo is still being debated on whether it was truly an incident that occurred or whether it was a posed shot, completely lacking any truth. (Did the car really crash? Is this really the first time women wore shorts in public?) (qtd. in Women In Shorts (Maybe) Cause Car Accident (Photo)) Regardless of whether it is a valid photo or not, the concept is remarkable. Consider the components of this photo, should it be true. What were they feeling? Were their hearts racing? Did their faces turn red with embarrassment? With fear? What did the men say to these two ladies? More importantly what did the other women say? Did the two women respond to any accusatory or derogative comments? Or did they walk in pride and silence? As my mind swarmed with these unanswered questions, I gained an overwhelming sense of pride. Regardless of the situation and/or outcome of the scenario, these women were daring, and risked their pride, reputations and dignity in order to bring a new fashion to light. Emerging in the early 1900s, bare legged, these two women were going against ever cultural norm of the time. Women were to wear dresses past their knees, high neck lines, and heels to add a touch of feminine to their overall appearance. Yet as these women stepped out in shorts above their knees, they were assumedly aware of the ridicule for their risqu appearance they were guaranteed to face. Yet they persevered and chose to continue, aware that they were going to make history. As seen with the two women from the 1937 photo, class, race, culture and gender can quite easily play a significant and active role in revolution and clothing. The two women were obviously critiqued for their style due to the fact they were females, but also because of the culture and societal norms and accepted trends of that decade. This is, unfortunately, a

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reoccurring trend, universally. According to Louise Tythacotts review of Chinese Clothing: An Illustrated Guide by Valery M. Garrett, such can be seen in the revolutionary style trends of China. Garretts inclusion of minority dress in a book on Chinese clothing is important: it is at once a recognition of these peoples existence and rights as citizens of China and, at the same time, a reminder of their distinct cultural visibility. (Tythacott, 683). By this article, Tythacott clearly demonstrates how culturally, in countries such as China, clothing defines each citizens identity. Their class, social status, and their cultural history. Imagine the disdain and dishonor a rebellious individual would bring to themselves and/or family, should they ever tr y to defy the system? What all have we taken for granted in our first world problems when it comes to our clothing? What truth have we left unrecognized, when it comes to the fashion trends of today, and the revolutionary predecessors who blazed the trail to our now heteronormative fashionaccepting society? In the end, fashion will always be changing. Yet the trends of today, were all radical at one time or another, and are now the basis of all American-dressing, cultural norms. So the next time when judging a debatably provocative style choice, consider this. What if that woman/man is making history? Because the truth is, if it brings about controversy, it is making history. Its grabbing the publics attention, and in turn, is creating a questioning spirit within the soul of society. And that in itself, is revolutionary. Yet will this cause enough debate to be remembered? Truth is, we will continue to dress ourselves in a way we consider to make a statement, without considering the statements made against those who brought us such fashions. We will continue to take for granted the sacrifice made by those before us with every leg slip of a skinny jean, every slit of a cleavage plunge, every tummy exposure of a cropped top, and every bare leg sprouting from shorts. We are the American society. Ignorance is what we do best.

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