Don’t Be So Cheeky
By Dixie Feldman, Contributing Writer
Esther Williams looked super sexy even with all her curves demurely covered.
One of the many things I cherish about “old movies” is the way their denizens are refreshingly clothed. This era of scantily clad Britneys and Christinas is enough to make one pine for the soothing subjection of a burka. My classic movie heroines can always be counted upon to do their livin’ and lovin’ without the alarming possibility of me glimpsing their hoohas dangling above my head like the Sword of Damocles. Amazingly, stars like Irene Dunne and Esther Williams always remained delectably dressed, with no danger of my ever having to see either squirm, writhe or crawl oily and half-naked.
But today, just when you thought the fashionistas had exhausted body parts to expose and espouse, it has uncovered yet another way for those with long legs and short attention spans to demonstrate their appeal. Take a walk through any suburban shopping mall, and you’ll notice “buttage” has become the new cleavage, as the behind leads the way in a relentless parade of cheeks peeking out over the top of their inadequate denim prisons. Forget hemlines rising or falling, the only thing dipping these days is waistlines.
Tsk, tsk, Tara. The leading ladies of Hollywood's Golden Era relied on talent, not tailbones.
Of course low-rise pants’ ubiquitous buttage also means miles of midriff. Has anyone ever seen Tara Reid in public without an expanse of precariously pubic flesh on display? This eternally disheveled four-minutes-twenty-seven-seconds-and-counting-on-the-fame-o-meter “It Girl” is clearly smitten with her belly and throws her midsection’s paunchlessness in our faces in a seemingly bottomless array of bottoms hovering mesmerizingly close to her starlet crotch. But then why shouldn’t lithe, little Tara celebrate this all too transient window of midriff-exposing opportunism? Since the brevity of her outfits is eclipsed only by her even briefer moment in the spotlight, why shouldn’t she take full advantage of this fortuitous convergence of scanty fame, scantier clothing,and the scantiest of all, the sweet waistline of youth.
If these grapes seem awfully sour, well, you’re probably right. The rise of low-rise pants is fine if you’re young, super-skinny, and not averse to having strangers picture placing a tiny cocktail umbrella in the crevice of your bum. (Okay, maybe that’s just me.) However, if you’re in the 99th percentile of females who don’t always feel lucky in their Lucky Brands, you’re likely to feel rear ended by the buttage juggernaut.
Irene Dunne kept her pants up and still managed to snag Cary Grant in The Awful Truth.
Nowadays, women whose hips are freakishly wider than their waists (imagine!) are somehow driven to wear clothing that is at best unflattering, and at worst, faintly obscene. I’m personally reluctant to wear my pants ultra-low. Not only will my legs put one in mind of a dachshund, these low-slung waistlines are designed to give one hips, and Mother Nature has already beaten them to it.
But thanks to Fashion’s torso totalitarianism, a woman without hip-huggers looks hopelessly un-hip. Thank goodness designers’ mercurial dictates have decreed the high waisted pant “in” for fall. (Why do they always say “pant” instead of pants?) While the hip and hipless will likely keep their crotch-hugging trousers, the rest of us fleshier females can now emerge from our closets with our dignity and our chic intact. We can once again look forward to a bright future behind us.
Dixie Feldman is a prolific writer and public speaker, popular television personality, and die-hard retrophile. She is currently working on a book about The Lost Art of Being a Dame.
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I think about one of my favorite movies, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and how Merle Oberon was portrayed. Although she sported a bit of cleavage in the party scene, I think that she was absolutely breathtaking when, adorned in a hat that framed her face, she confronted Andrew Ffoulkes. There was a vulnerability, a raw sensuality that grips me and takes my breath away. The pelvic thrusts and blatant exposure of today’s culture and fashion leave so much to be desired in comparison.
nice work Dixie. Love the words and the sentiment
Howdy Folks Puh-lease post your comments also here: http://digg.com/people/Dont_Be_So_Cheeky
Bada-Bing
More disturbing: the spring-chicken-youth who get involved/involve themselves in the Thong Movement. Shepherded by American Eagle Outfitters, Urban Outfitters, Delias, Wet Seal, and all other things Outfitted and Wet, these pre-pubescent gals sport the latest in buttage fashion. I mean, what’s the point of a thong if you can’t see it sticking up four inches past the jean-line? And how can you resist wearing a string where the sun don’t shine when they come in a bevy of colors and patterns with bows, bells and whistles galore? Just like picking out the blue, pink or purple cotton candy! Oh, the choices.
AWESOME piece, Dixie!
Buttage?? Ack, the horror! Poor Edith Head must be rolling over in her grave.
Great article! Hope this inspires at least a few young women to put on some underpants.
Thanks for sharing your view. I hate butt cleavage–on me, of course. Wish mine was as pretty as the young girls.
Thanks for your view.
Those with talent act (or sing, or otherwise ply their craft), but for those without there’s flesh. Guess it’s always been that way, but in the era we’re interested in, you hadda buy a girlie magazine to see the talentless skin-mongers. Now unfortunately all one has to do is walk down the street. Thanks for the fun-to-read article.