Wednesday, 18 April 2012

marina blog picIs Less More?

The question is, do we appear more beautiful if we keep our attire modest or is a little vibrancy and a flash of skin more exciting? Some would say what is concealed is more mysterious and beautiful to the eye of the observer. However the eye of the observer is indeed a very subjective one, and in my opinion showing some skin, and I’m not talking Nuts magazine, rather a gently exposed shoulder or the delicate contours of one’s back; can be visually stimulating enough to get blood pumping at a dangerously faster speed. Although we can indeed control what we wear, we cannot control the oogling, stares and various animal noises our ‘look of the day’ may attract.
Let’s face it, sometimes the image we wish to project comes with unwanted attention. Not so long ago I chose to wear heels matched with my flamboyant faux fur to work. Other than the fact that it was minus something degrees and my own breath was freezing before my eyes, I felt like this outfit would give me a lift on a soggy Monday morning. Lunch time approached, and as soon as I stepped out of the office, I immediately fell under a strange scrutiny predominantly from men. Asides from the critical glares from the odd woman clasping her toasted Panini; male A) hissed at me in the street and male B) asked me if I was sure I didn’t want a Banana with my lunch? No Sir, just the Granny Smith I have placed in front of you. Gracias and Adios! Forever preferably? Except that won’t happen because I see you every day at 1pm: Awkward.

furr and heelsmarinablog2
As I strutted back to the office, I began questioning my entire outfit and wondering what exactly provoked this attention? When I usually stroll into reception wearing basic flats and a buttoned up shirt the security guard certainly doesn’t give me the wide eyed greeting I received that rainy Monday. But I was frustrated, because I felt good in my outfit dammit! I felt classy and confident, until I stepped out into the real world. By real world I mean a world where our audience is not chosen. I asked myself, is a higher heel, redder lips, bigger fur more? Or perhaps it is too much for the penguins in suits, the chef in his apron and the whistling builder, to handle on a drizzly day in central London.
I decided to save this sassy number for after 8, because although I’m thinking Narnia meets Coco Chanel, McDude in the street is thinking how much? Even my colleague appeared from the stationary cupboard like a woodland creature to wish me luck on my phantom ‘date’. ‘I don’t have a date you toad!’ I squealed, leaving him unconvinced. Just because I have decided to shine today does not mean Mr Right (Douche) is waiting somewhere for me in a Michelin star bar.
Its situations like these that makes us wonder, should we feel able to wake up at the sound of our sweet snooze and spritz a little Allure, toss on a pair of suede heels and gloss our lips with ruby red? Or shall we accept that we cannot change the nature of the unnappreciative perve in daily life, and perhaps we should save these Noir O’clock numbers for a more special occasion? One which doesn’t involve emailing clients and booking campaigns, but rather sweeping sunsets and midnight magic, where more is allowed?
Peace and Love

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