© Cathy Thorne – everydaypeoplecartoons.com
For other inspiring, thought provoking cartoons by Cathy Thorne, check out her website: everydaypeoplecartoons.com
By writer Katherine Center.
The slideshow was inspired by Katherine’s new novel “Everyone is Beautiful“; photos and design by Mary Swenson.
My favorite quotes:
Beauty comes from variety, from specificity, from the fact that no person in the world looks exactly like anyone else.
and:
It’s more important to be interesting, to be vivid, and to be adventurous than to sit pretty for pictures.
Bravo Katherine!
Related links:
Katherine Center’s official website.
Katherine Center on Twitter.
I have recently received an email from a dear friend, outraged at the announcement that the Australian government has decided to ban adult publications and films featuring small breasted women. I have asked her for permission to republish her message here, since her reaction speaks volumes…
Here is an extract from the article, featured on Boing Boing, which my friend quoted:
The Australian Classification Board (ACB) is now banning depictions of small-breasted women in adult publications and films. They banned mainstream pornography from showing women with A-cup breasts, apparently on the grounds that they encourage paedophilia, and in spite of the fact this is a normal breast size for many adult women. Presumably small breasted women taking photographs of themselves will now be guilty of creating simulated child pornography, to say nothing of the message this sends to women with modestly sized chests or those who favour them. Australia has also banned pornographic depictions of female ejaculation, a normal orgasmic sexual response in many women, with censors branding it as ‘abhorrent’.
Full article here.
And here is the commentary from my friend:
As a “small-breasted” woman who sees how the entire world is becoming silicone-injected, this is infuriating, insulting and enraging! This is just another thing that is pushing images of women farther and farther from reality. And for those of us who are real and want to love our bodies as they are, this kind of thing makes it an even steeper up-hill battle. And that last sentence, while I don’t watch pornography, is shocking in 2010. “Abhorrent”? Seriously?
Disturbing indeed.
What are your thoughts on the issue?
© Cathy Thorne – everydaypeoplecartoons.com
For more amazing cartoons by the über-talented Cathy Thorne, visit her site: everydaypeoplecartoons.com
Intrigued by my friend Lindsey’s tales of Parisian gym culture, I have asked her to write a blog post about it. Here it is:
From a very young age my mother instilled in me a certain logic, if you can call it that. There were clothes that could be worn to school, to friends houses, out to dinner and to events and then there were what she called “play clothes” – clothes for hanging around the house, playing outside or engaging in any kind of athletic activity. They were not to overlap. From the minute I would get home from school I was told to go upstairs and change into my play clothes before doing anything else. I never found this to be unusual since the only time I would see my mother in anything but her play clothes (jeans, a sweatshirt and slippers) was when she’d run errands or go out to dinner with my father on the weekends. It was an irritating habit but not something I perceived as abnormal.
Although I had many friends whose mothers did not maintain such an approach to dressing, I grew up buying into this notion that there was a time to get dressed up (aka make an effort to look good) and a time to be comfortable. In my experience, this is very American.
I didn’t realize how American it was until I came to Paris where looking good is an art form, an innate ability that we sartorially inferior beings lack. It goes far beyond good grooming and fashion sense. Nowhere was this made more obvious to me than at the gym in Paris (the French are late adopters, fitness being no exception. Indoor exercise is a relatively recent phenomenon).
To a certain degree I can understand how looking good for your workout might contribute to a positive body image. I refuse to believe, however, that I should be spurned because I left the house in running shoes, stretchy yoga pants, a t-shirt and a trace of the previous night’s mascara. I’ve been a member of a fitness club since High School in a culture where, unless you go to the gym straight from work, you arrive in sneakers and fitness gear without thinking twice. This falls into the “play clothes” category of dressing. However, looking sporty in Paris is a major faux-pas, one that provokes looks of disdain steeped in judgment – as if I’m not only inferior but about as stylish as a bag lady. The only context in which athletic-wear is permissible is for running outdoors but let’s be honest, this also confuses some Parisians. Why would anyone subject themselves to such sweaty torture?
I was immediately astounded by the get-ups women would sport to the gym, women that I would quickly learn were either stay-at-home trophy wives or stay-at-home mothers. Even at 9:30 on a Sunday morning, these characters would show up to the gym in heels, skinny jeans or a skirt, a painted face and an aroma that could only come from an entire bottle of perfume, and not the pleasant kind. All of this just to head straight for the locker room, gossip with their girlfriends, change (into what can only be considered in appropriate gym-attire) and, presumably, sweat off their liquid foundation.
The first time I saw some of these women I thought I was stuck in an 80’s horror flick, convinced that a crazed killer was going to storm through the gym and ravage one of them. Leotards, fishnet stockings, brightly colored spandex, scrunchies (gasp!), jewelry, lingerie, converse sneakers – all have made up the Parisian interpretation of athletic-wear. Yet somehow, in my City Sports Philly tee, yoga pants, pro running shoes and a slicked back ponytail I am the evil-doer, the one who merits the looks. And when I head to the weight lifting room where the smell of sweaty socks fills my nostrils and hits me like a brick, I am the outsider among virtually all men. Some hopelessly scrawny nerds, some beefed-up meatheads, some flirty homosexuals in short-shorts that leave little to the imagination and a lot of excessive staring. As a female, I breach the male-dominated muscle fortress the second I sit down on the hip-abductor machine. Because of this, these surly representations of French masculinity feel the need to comment on how I use the machines, remarking that muscles aren’t attractive on women. Luckily, I have perfected my look of death and am able to shoot them down without even opening my mouth. I have also learned not to take this personally and have concluded that French men are merely unaccustomed to seeing women with a little meat, muscles and tone (aka real).
Yes, these seemingly bizarre clothing choices and social behaviors could be attributed to a difference in culture (didn’t their parents ever teach them not to stare and judge?) but it really speaks to a much larger issue in the Parisian gyms, the idea of spectacle and prestige. It’s all for show – the outfits, the blatant yearning for perfection, the condescension, the visual competition – a great number of these Parisians are not there to lose weight, get fit or stay healthy (besides, any health benefit is negated by the smoking the moment they leave the gym) but to socialize and show off. Chalk it up to American Puritanism but I find it quite uncomfortable when women of ALL shapes, sizes and ages lead full-fledged conversations in the nude, often while oiling down.
This approach to fitness wouldn’t necessarily be problematic if it weren’t for the scowls and looks that scream “you’re inferior, you don’t look good, you have no style”. I’m not sure which is worse, their occasional blatant disregard for my existence or the more frequent looks of disgust likening me to a hobo.
Paris is not only the capital of fashion but of the thin ideal. Sure, it underwrites almost all messages diffused by American fashion media as well, but you can feel the yearning to be thin and stylish on and off the runway in Paris. For the most part, the women don’t have “play clothes” because, well, you never know who you might run into on a quick trip to the market or pharmacy so looking your best is imperative. I’ve had to completely change my habits and approach to dressing and I fear my American nonchalance is being quickly replaced by Parisian snobbism. But as much as I become more French in my style, I will always follow my mother’s logic and wear my “play clothes” to the gym. I can take the looks.
Note: I have since joined a different gym which seems to welcome a more Americanized fitness crowd, serious about exercise. I think it voids everything I have just written. I’ll report back in a year.
Lindsey is the creator of Lost In Cheeseland: Musings on food, love, life and struggles in Paris. She is a Paris transplant from Philadelphia, married to a Frenchman and on a permanent quest to understand the idiosyncrasies of the French. Having battled food and body image issues, she has struggled to find a balance in Paris where food is ubiquitous and bodies are tiny. In real life, she is in charge of Marketing & Communications for an online boutique. Check her out!
From Jezebel.com:
Although Demi Moore has denied that her W cover was dramatically Photoshopped to accidentally remove part of her hip, a photographer who also noticed it is calling bullshit… to the tune of $5,000.
Following controversy about her body proportions on the current W cover, Demi Moore posted the following message on Twitter:
With a link to the following image:
Professional photographer Antony Citrano reacted to this post by saying:
Whether or not her hip was botched, I do not believe for a moment that the image Demi posted yesterday [on Twitter] is the original shot. If she’s aware of that – and I expect she is – it’s irresponsible (and silly) of her to make that assertion.So, I’ll see her move and raise her $5,000: if the shot she posted yesterday is really the unretouched original, I will donate $5,000 to a charity of her choosing.
Eagerly awaiting the continuation of this saga…
Full post on Jezebel: “Photographer Bets $5,000 On Demi Moore W Cover Retouching“
These awful, über-sexist Reebok EasyTone ads were conceived by the ad agency DDB Chicago:
Now, if you go to DDB’s official website you will notice some interesting quotes:
“Values”
(Who We Are > Roots)
Respect for Our World
As influential communicators, DDB is in a position to use creativity as a force for good. As Bill Bernbach so eloquently put it, “All of us who professionally use the mass media are the shapers of society. We can vulgarize that society. We can brutalize it. Or we can help lift it onto a higher level.”
(emphasis mine)
Interesting. Could you watch the commercials one more time, keeping in mind the above statement? Don’t you notice a huge disconnect?
To complain to DDB for the aforementioned ads you can contact Jeff Swystun, DDB Chief Communications Officer : Jeff.Swystun@ddb.com or address something to him, in 140 characters or less, to his Twitter account: @JeffSwystun
File under: Duh! Should we be surprised?
From today’s Telegraph (UK):
Babies’ eye colour, skin tone – and even the fat creases on their arms – are altered before the images are put on glossy magazine front covers.
Politicians and industry experts described the practice as “shocking” and said it would put further pressure on parents who wanted their babies to be perfect.
Full article here.
Last night I had dinner with a couple of friends. Christine, one of them, had just returned from New York and brought me back a book called “Body Outlaws – Rewriting the Rules of Beauty and Body Image,” a collection of frank, powerful, and sometimes humorous essays about self-image.
I started reading passages from it on the subway on my way home. Carolyn Mackler’s “Memoirs of a (sorta) Ex-Shaver” – about women’s travails with body hair – made a strong impression on me, because the ultimate message is very close to the thesis of The Illusionists.
Here’s my favorite passage:
Why had body hair become such a nemesis for women? It poses no health risks. It is not hygienic to remove; it is not cleansing to shave. Rather, the complications arise during the eradication: cuts, infections, rashes, ingrown hairs, dry skin, burning. Is this hairless ideal yet another variation on the tune of ‘let’s take the best (boobs, curves in some places, hair in very few places) and leave the rest (hips, curves in other places, hair in lots of other places)’? Or is it: ‘Let’s make women look like 8-year-olds so we can treat them as such’? Or is it: ‘If women can fill up their extra hours shaving and obsessing about their bodies, then they won’t have spare time to plot world takeover’? Or maybe it’s: ‘Women are so grossly overpaid and just don’t spend enough on pads, tampons, pantyliners, Ibuprofen, shampoos, conditioners, deodorants, that we should coax them to buy razors, waxes, creams and bleaches.’ A-ha, it’s probably: ‘How about setting another unattainable ideal for women so they will always fall short of the mark.’ I mean, what are women if they’re not feeling insecure about something or another?
Thank you for the wonderful book, Christine!
Link: Body Outlaws on Amazon.com
From the Washington Post’s “On Being” video series: an interview of make-up artist Bailey Orenia-Sessoms – who speaks eloquently about race, beauty, and self-esteem.
A terrific quote:
When you have that lack of self-love, you’re more susceptible to accepting society’s “beauty standards” and then you find yourself not liking who you are year to year because every year (fashion) changes.
To watch the full interview, click here.