So last night, after the gym, I went to one of those super trendy clothing stores down in Soho, to try to find a fun little summer dress. No luck for me, though I found some great little things if I wanted people to think I’m pregnant (I don’t), and one almost-maybe that’s just slightly off a flattering cut for me.
But I’m waiting for a dressing room, and a stick thin pixie of a girl, tall as a sheaf of wheat, comes out to show her boyfriend a dress. She looks like Twiggy in it — little cap sleeves, round collar, short, short, short hem. Sensibly, she wonders if it isn’t too short.
Mesmerized by the unending display of legs, and just then called into a room of my own, I didn’t share my opinion, but here ’tis: Ladies, if you can’t bend over to slip on a pair of shoes, raise your arms to wave or even adjust a headband, or even sit without flashing everyone your groovy bits, it’s too short. Move on. Find something else.
I hope she did.
…because really, it’s only marginally less restraining than Chinese footbinding.