Monday Muse

Monday Muse: Masculin Feminin

Welcome to a new series titled Monday Muse: a space for my quick, unedited ramblings on a certain theme/idea/notion that’s currently inspiring me from the worlds of art, fashion, music, or otherwise.


I envy the ease with which certain men seem to get dressed. A splash of water to the face, a hand tousled through perfectly messy hair, a swipe of Old Spice if they remember it. The way their clothes slouch and hug their body just so, without squeezing it tight. Their faces scrubbed clean—their natural selves often center stage, rather than hidden.


I don’t think anyone should dictate how a woman chooses to live her life, except that woman herself. The superficial terms people set for themselves (superficial, here, is not meant in the derogatory sense but by the literal definition) are choices that should not be wrapped up in morality—in black and white notions of right and wrong. But I do wish that every woman could indulge in at least a few days of this so-called “manly” lifestyle, one rid of make-up and hair products, of needing to be a vision of the capital W woman (whatever that means).


This is not to say that men don’t have their own images of masculinity that they feel they must live up to—they absolutely do. But I believe the pressure on them is less intense than the seemingly endless pressures put on women, many of which conflict and lead to even greater confusion. Don’t be a prude, but don’t be too promiscuous. Don’t wear too much make-up, but don’t let yourself go. Care about women’s issues, but god forbid you use the term FEMINIST. Aim to have it all, but beware of intimidating your colleagues. This constant ethos of do this, not that is so incredibly tired. I’d like to denounce all of these rules and replace them with just one—do what pleases you.


What pleases me lately is this idea of a loose androgyny. Not masculinity or femininity, but an amalgamation. I like the idea of my longish, wavy hair with structured blazers, or too-big jeans, or perhaps a nubby crew-neck sweater. At the same time, I’m enjoying a little vintage sparkle at night, or a swipe of berry lipstick. I am drawn to sneakers more than heels these days, but a pointy toe still has allure. Overall, I am finding that less, right now, is more. I don’t want to be tied to any sartorial or make-up routine these days. If I’m tired, then mascara will be passed up. If I have a pimple, I’m not hell-bent on covering it up. Nobody worth my time [or yours] really cares, anyways. I don’t want obligations in this arena of my life, and if the obligations you follow in this realm aren’t what you truly want—perhaps you should reevaluate.



Weeks from now I may go on a different kick, one that loves charcoal-rimmed eyes or outfits tinged with a more potent femininity. Who knows? As long as these choices are bent upon free will, rather than the will of the masses, contentedness will be close by.


(Sidenote: I am in love with Adam Driver and am secretly hoping to turn into him. This is entirely normal and should not be questioned whatsoever.)


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