As a Covid prisoner, I hadn’t been out in a long time. Then, after being a good girl and taking my shots, my sweetie pie and I booked that trip to St. Croix we’d been pining for. Now, you wouldn’t think that much could change after a year in seclusion, but as soon as we got to the airport, I realized a revolution had occurred.
The entire place had been overrun with Spandex.
Don’t get me wrong. I too have donned the synthetic fiber favored for its elasticity. I’ve worn under garments made of Spandex and I’ve pulled on stretchy leggings and shorts and bathing suits for a workout. But the visual assault of multi-colored and patterned elastic in a public place like an airport was quite overwhelming.
First, ladies—since we are by far the biggest Spandex offenders—let me point out that all that flexible fabric doesn’t really look good on anyone. Not even super models, which sadly most of us are not. And there’s only so much supporting Spandex can do. I saw more practically naked body parts at the airport than I do when I’m in the health club locker room. And it’s the nature of Spandex that even when we’re covered there’s little left to the imagination.
You might be interested to know that the product behind the Spandex brand was invented in 1958. The post-World War II era had DuPont searching for a market for their textiles and they settled on women’s bras and girdles, which apparently needed an upgrade from rubber. (Rubber underwear? Don’t make me shudder.) They hired famous stars like the lovely and lithe Audrey Hepburn to wear their new products, though what that wee woman would have needed with a girdle is beyond me.
In any case, somewhere along the line Spandex became the “it” fabric. I suppose we can blame being stuck at home for our desire for comfort and I do understand the allure of sweat pants and baggie Ts and other comfy wear when there’s no need to head to work. I’ll also admit that I’m not one to dress up to go shopping. I’ve only worn makeup a handful of times over the last year, and the holes in my pierced ears are threatening to close since there seemed to be no reason to wear jewelry.
However, it used to be that people took a little more care with their clothes while traveling. When I was younger and unattached airports were rather fun places for meeting new and interesting people. But no one seems to care about that now.
Some of you may think I’m just an old prude. Not so! I hemmed my Girl Scout uniform to within an inch of my butt back in the good old 1970s. I wore halter tops and low, hip-hugger jeans, all of which had my mother rolling her eyes. I fully understand baring body parts in a formal gown or on a Saturday night out, but now said skin is on view everywhere all the time. (Just head to the grocery store, if you don’t believe me.) I’m not sure of the message we’re sending. Seems a bit desperate, a cry for attention, maybe.
You’re probably thinking that I’m picking on my fellow women here, and perhaps I am a little. As a high school teacher of 20 years, I was called on daily to deal with dress code issues of just this type, so maybe that’s why I noticed. Note here that traveling men look no better than women. Most wore sloppy old T-shirts, raggedy shorts, athletic shoes, and ball caps. Had I been young and single, I wouldn’t have found any of them appealing enough to chat up.
Recently, I watched a snippet of a movie, an old black-and-white film that had been digitized. A stunning Burt Lancaster appeared in a fabulous cream-colored suit. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I tried to remember the last time I saw a man in a suit. Nothing came to mind.
I’m now wondering what fashion changes will be next. Perhaps ladies will go back to Victorian Era coverups, since there’s not much more we can take off. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, consider this: clothing containing Spandex ends up as non-recyclable waste, so these garments contribute to polluting our world and take anywhere from 20 to 200 years to decompose.
Here’s hoping the trend ends soon.
A WOMAN FLEES AN ABUSIVE HUSBAND
AND FINDS HOPE IN THE WILDS OF THE ARIZONA DESERT.
Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint
Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.
Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.
Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?
Order your copy here: http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb