FLASHDANCE FLASH BACK

I recently just re-fell in love with 'Flashdance'.

(She's got it)

I'm not a huge fan of the 80's; or maybe I am, but I'm very selective over which aspects I consider to be fashion moments. 

The film's story is one that I feel I can increasingly relate to: Girl has dream. Girl has to overcome struggles to reach dream. Girl debates giving up. Girl has epiphany. Girl accomplishes dream, all whilst looking fashionably fabulous. (I am yet to have expected epiphany or therefore reach my dream but any day now I'm sure...)

So anyway, synopsis over. Now to the good bit; the fashion. 

The scene, you know the one. Alex is on stage, ready to perform but it's all about the silhouette. That suit. Those sharp shoulders. That masculine shell that she peels off to reveal the skimpiest red playsuit. And then the water. Mind is blown. The end *almost*.

(Perfection)

There's also the trip to the laundrette. Perfect in oversized grey jumper and stripey scarf just slung casually around her neck, with Jeanie in her high heels and frilly socks. Uh! I can't explain my delight and it doesn't end there. Cue the list. The scene where Alex and Jeanie are simply walking down the road, parker coat and russian hat in tow, with her Nike daps on, accompanied with red socks and navy leggings. I tell you, you could use the film's outfits as a step by step guide on how to dress chic for those winter months. I've previously posted on the trials of dressing both fashionably and weather appropriately but Alex - or should I say the costume department - have absolutely nailed it. Pink heeled pumps and yet another oversized overcoat to walk down railway tracks. Why not? (The obvious answer here is that such a thing would be incredibly dangerous, but for the purpose of the film - and my need to romanticise fashion - it acts as the perfect catwalk.) 

(Effortless chic)

And the inspiration really just keeps on coming. Tina's performance costume of black cut-out crop top and matching high cut briefs has got me all excited for Christmas time dressing. I'm not saying I'll be stepping out sans trousers but the glitter, her grit, her attitude. Who says you can't be tough at Christmas anyway? I'm bored of the same old red and gold thing that magazines try to sell to us as the way to dress for Christmas-time celebrations. Bring on a bit of sexy peekaboo, black crop topped, gold chained, masculine yet sexy yule-tide fashion fun! 

(Just screams Christmas doesn't it?)

Party dressing aside though, I think above all what I really love is how 'Flashdance' plays with the performative qualities of fashion. They aren't just props, they are an intrinsic part of the performance. A key element. Stripping off the layers to reveal yet more clothes, every layer getting thinner and thinner, daring the audience to watch the change in her movements as her body becomes evermore visible. 

Clothing is a part of play, and what better way to illustrate this than Alex going to the fancy dress party as a clown. Her beauty eclipsed by the borderline ridiculousness of her over the top costume. It is all about the clothing. Or when Nick and Alex go on their lavish date. Fashion in this instance becomes a tool of social subversion, an instrument of blurring gender lines. The norms are inverted as Alex sports a masculine power tux only to whip off her jacket to reveal the smallest, backless and sideless under shirt. The sexiness of this unexpected under layer is almost palpable, as she sarcastically remarks to his ex-wife: "yes I really do work as a welder". Her delicacy, coupled with the tux that almost overwhelms her tiny frame, creates an interesting dichotomy that is only saved by her 'fuck you' attitude. After all, fashion can't work alone. You, the wearer, have to make it come alive. 

(The tux)

As you can tell I'm having a major 'Flashdance' moment. Is getting a perm a step too far in my goal to be - I mean channel - Alex? I might just wear leg warmers to bed. Or maybe not. The oversized grey jumper/leather skirt combo is a must though. 

I feel like we can all relate to Alex. Haven't we all had those moments when we're on our arse, when it all appears bleak and hopeless. But then I think we need to remember the words of Jeanie; "I gotta tough ass". I mean aren't we all just girls trying to pirouette through life without spilling our soda? *

(*You may have to rewatch the film to get this reference but it's totally worth it.) 

MAKEUP: MAKING UP WITH YOURSELF

Do you honestly think I care what I look like?

In short, Yes.

(Mantra of the enemy)

I’ll give you the scenario. I was in work, when a lady tried on a hat. She turned to her partner to get his opinion. He responded with a very safe, I mean sweet: “you look beautiful”. To which she replied, “Do you think I care what I look like?” Ironically she then turned to look at herself in the mirror and redid her hair.

You could argue that I’m looking too far into this. I, however, would disagree.

Firstly, this lady not only felt that she needed reassurance but also approval and despite getting this, her default response was self-mockery and a very defensive and utterly transparent ‘I-reeeally-don’t-care-honest-I-don’t’ retort.

Secondly, I feel that this one lady is not alone. I see her as the ‘Everywoman’.

But before I attempt to pick apart the aesthetic worries of all womankind I think I should start by introducing myself. Hello, my name is Sophia and I cannot leave the house without makeup on. I’d like to say that just through this confession that a huge weight has been lifted, but I’d be lying.

For me I cannot think of many things worse than having to leave the house sans makeup - obviously in reality there are many, many things worse, like snagging your tights or your stripey Bretton top running in the wash... (I kid, I kid) I understand the superficiality of this but nevertheless I figured it was worth investigating my neurosis.

(Shock horror, makeup free living)

So lets start from the beginning, what does make-up mean? In its basic form when applying cosmetics you are ‘making yourself up’. It’s a grown up form of playing pretend, a way of temporarily transforming yourself, or your face at least. I’d like to draw upon one of my favourite trios of all time (cue eye rolls); the Kardashians. Yep, despite the controversy surrounding them and their family life, and the criticism over their status as bonafide A-listers, you can’t deny their flawless make-up.

Much has been made of - and many have attempted to emulate- the unique way in which Kim in particular has her make-up applied. One word: contouring. This handy trick sculpts the face, adds definition, plus highlights and slims both cheeks and, if necessary, can minimize larger features. It’s liquid magic; trickery right from a little bottle – actually quite a few bottles, all in different colours, multiple brushes, not to mention an expert hand... – but I digress. My point is that in this day and age, anything is possible; with make up at least. You don’t like the shape of your eyebrows? Draw them on, fill them in, change their colour if you fancy. Thin lips? Lip plumper and a well-matched lip liner should do the trick. I’m no beauty expert but generally the twenty-first-century girl knows plenty of ways and means to alter her appearance. This, I would argue, is due in large part to the mass pressure of social expectation.

(Contouring a la Kim K)

We aren’t all blessed with a face like Kim Kardashian- or the finances to keep up such an image – but why should we feel like we have to apologise for this? In doing ourselves up, what is it that we’re ‘making up’ for exactly?

When I put on my daily dose of foundation I’m not just trying to even out my skin colour. Oh no, that would be far too simple. I’m covering up my skin, trying desperately to get it to blur in with the tide line of fake tan that reaches just under my chin. I’m pale. I live with it but I don’t like it. Countless times I’ve been asked by worried onlookers “are you ill?” or “do you feel okay?” and whilst I’m sure this curiousity comes from a deep place of compassion, I can’t help but want to run into a very hard wall. ‘NO I’m not ill thank you very much, I’m just testing out au naturel, which is something I will NEVER do again.’ A quick rummage/dive into my makeup bag, to desperately rectify my ‘problem’, and in no time at all I’m a lovely shade of Maybelline ‘sand beige’. Yes, it says it all. By reattaching my cosmetic safety mask, my flaws are well and truly hidden or at least blurred. Afraid of standing out from the crowd, I crave to be ‘sand beige’. Have you ever heard someone being described as ‘beige’ in a positive way. “Oh yeah, Frida is so much fun, she’s totally beige”. Somehow I don’t think it’s going to catch on, you might as well just call me vanilla.

(The reaction in my head)

A friend of mine in work suggested we go bare for comic relief. I’d seen the adverts but I still desperately clung to the idea that she meant lets all come in naked. Alas I was wrong. Luckily this idea was forgotten. Not only was I relieved but I think all the big shots at ‘Very-Popular-Department-Store-That-I-Work-In’ should heave a group sigh of relief too. I guarantee they’d have seen a stark decline in sales if I’d been let on to the shop floor in that state.

As I’m writing this it’s hard not to notice that I too am re-enacting what the lady that started off this post did. In my very long-winded and slightly repackaged version I too am self-deprecatingly mocking myself in a bid to hide my insecurities. A dear friend once told me I looked like ‘Thomas the Tank’ – pale face and dark neck. Of course I laughed my hurt off but on reflection he wasn’t mocking my 'problem' pale skin, he was mocking the contrast of my dark neck against my pale skin. A dark neck that wasn’t really my own. In trying to hide my flaws I in effect highlighted them and whilst doing so managed to look like some ridiculous, and not to mention, weird zebra/girl hybrid.

We live in a society crazed by appearance and in this narrow ideal we are all supposed to fit. Can this ever be possible? 

NO!

But regardless of this we all still try. This obsession with ‘perfection’ is an empty quest. Very few people will ever be one hundred percent comfortable with themselves but it seems to me that we never even try. It’s far easier to cover, hide, alter, mask, or even surgically remove our ‘flaws’ but what about trying to love, or at the very least accept them.

I see makeup in one of two ways;

1) A means to an end... of individuality. How many orange faced, spider-eyed, pastel lipped girls do you see walking around everyday. Yes, I think my point is made.

(Case in point)

2) A means of making you look better, more attractive and the thing we all crave the most; normal. I hope you're sensing the sarcasm here. I'd love to meet the person who set the standard of normality or who defined the narrow ideals of what is deemed attractive. 

The bare faced truth (groan) of the matter is however, that there is no unequivocal definition of beauty and unfortunately there isn't one person who created the rigorous set of rules that we all clamber to abide by. I'm sure that if there was, they'd have been captured and tortured long ago, but alas it is a lot harder to change the minds of the masses. It is 'us', the all encompassing 'we' that have put these pressures on ourselves. 

During a particularly raucous seminar, one girl decided to slate not only makeup but the women who wear it. She declared that it was unfeminist because women only wear it to attract men. Now steady on, I can't argue that she was wholly wrong in that some people do wear makeup to attract the opposite sex, but to label it unfeminist is a bit much. Makeup is a form that allows women to take ownership of their bodies. It is a means of self-expression, something feminism triumphs. I do however wish that the narrow field of what is thought of as beautiful, who is beautiful and what measures one is expected to take to reach this level of beauty were expanded. 

Makeup is something that should be enjoyed but we should love ourselves just as much with it off as we do with it on. It should be remembered that beauty doesn't  have to only be skin deep. On this very rare occasion I’m going to quote Tyra Banks, who suggested in this months copy of Nylon magazine, that we should celebrate not shun our “flawsome characteristics”. Now I’m not usually the type of gal who supports such catch phrases as those that have typified Tyra’s career (I mean 'smize', smiling with your eyes? Really?!) but her motivational outlook in this instance really caught my attention. The only thing flawed here is our perception.

(The new mantra: Independence from makeup 

*sometimes)

I can't promise that I'll be walking around makeup-free but I will stop texting my boyfriend to 'warn' him before he comes over. This is very much a work in progress but it's something I think all women should undertake with me. Grab a makeup wipe, scrub that face and walk out that door with me... or maybe just open the door to the postman without cowering into the folds of your dressing gown. Baby steps.