Quite Random

Strappy things

I want, I think, to be a woman. Not for long. A month or two: this month or two. And not for any of the obvious reasons - being entirely capable for the whole of your life of holding seven fabulously contradictory views without your sanity becoming loosed; being able to stop after two glasses; becoming taller very easily; understanding women; understanding (and even liking) the lure of such horrids as pesto, budgeting, men’s bits and Clearing The Air; not being afraid to not understand things; smelling good without fear of being taken down the nasty part of a bad alley by people who don’t just want to say How Do to you; living longer and, as the years tumble by, with increasing rather than diminishing confidence; and of course all the Getting Away With It Just Because I’m Pretty stuff - not for any of these, but because of the clothes. Just because of the clothes.

The Observer | Magazine | Shambolic, baffling, curiously upbeat. It’s life, but not as you know it….

I’ve been in discussions in the past with women about what it’s better to be – a man or a woman. The evidence is thrown back and forth between opposing parties, and may cover sensitivity, romance, longevity and maturity, but usually ends with “Yeah?! Well, we can pee standing up!” from the men, and ‘Multiple orgasms!” from the women. Such high-minded philosophical discussions I get into. It’s a losing battle, of course. It’s clearly better to be a woman, for all of the reasons given above and more. OK, so there is menstruation, shaving awkward bits and chauvinism, but surely the pros outweigh the cons. It’s not just clothing, but a Dove advert on TV just listed about fifteen distinctly different types of clothing a woman can wear on top, where men have about two. Three or four if they’re gay. What’s fair about that?

The thing is, when summer comes along and the weather warms up, B.O. may be a constant hazard, we may not be able to wear anything cool that doesn’t make us look like an extra from Miami Vice or a candidate for PM trying to look informal, and we may be haunted by a crotch that is more humid than the inside of a boiling kettle, but as Euan Ferguson says, all the reasons why it would be great to be a woman in the summer are also all the reasons it’s also great to be a man.

To try and redress the balance, I’m going to read back through a book Dan gave me a few years ago, and try becoming a Dandy, a brightly coloured peacock of a chap, flaunting the convention of wearing dull wool mixes and over-heavy shoes, and reclaiming my right to display my plumage. Women wear all sorts in this weather – strappy dresses, peasant-girl dresses, light floaty tops, open-toed sandals. They couple staying cool with looking fantastic. Men need to up their game, finding a way to stay comfortable and look good that doesn’t involve looking like the vegetarian meal that just meant leaving out the meat - but it’s not made easy for us. According to the paper today, tiny tiny swimming shorts are now in fashion for men. That’s all very well if you have hips like Brad Pitt in Fight Club, but tiny tiny swimming trunks on me look like the last turkey in the shop got trussed up too tight with the giblets on the outside.