As always, these are simply personal favorite habits that we’ve largely let slip by the wayside, and I am more than aware that some of you are still living them to the fullest or have no interest in making them a part of your own life. An ass for every seat, as it were.
1. Getting our hair set once a week.
Every time I watch a movie or see an advertisement from the 50s and 60s, I am always floored by the degree of gravity-defying beauty that the women’s hair seems to achieve with such little effort. “I know this is partly because they weren’t allowed to work,” I think, “But even still, how does anyone have the time to get all of that drying, teasing, curling, pinning, and spraying done at the beginning of every day? They have to be in some kind of a Clockstoppers-esque scenario where they wake up at 5:30, pause the hands of time, have a brisk lovemaking session with Jesse Bradford, do their hair, and then return to their daily duties.” Not so! Apparently they just hauled their poodle skirt-clad asses down to the parlor and had them laquer on some hairstyle made half of actual follicles and half of wet cement, and then just let it go like that until the next styling session. Why can’t I do that??? I don’t even mind if my head smells like a dead raccoon by day six, I want to look perpetually Adele-chic and not have to sacrifice four hours of my day’s time with a comb and a flat iron to do so.
2. Using fancy stockings with garter belts.
Why must these beauties be relegated to the awkward ceremony at a wedding where the guy has to reach up his new bride’s skirt in front of everyone’s parents and pull that shit down with his teeth, as I’ve seen on some occasions? Why must they almost exclusively be sold in conjunction with “Sexy” costumes around Halloween season? Why are Sexy Sanitation Worker or Sexy Doctoral Candidate In Applied Mathematics the only times garters aren’t seen as an anachronistic addition to one’s outfit? This shit is unjust, and must change.
3. Hosting Barefoot Contessa-esque parties.
Whenever I watch that pop-collar bitch with her sensible bob and her Cape Cod lobster boils I am just like why is this not my life and the life of every woman on this planet??? I know that shit is hard in reality; I do my best to organize regular dinners at my house and even when everyone else is bringing a bottle of booze it is still a hassle and a half for a working woman. It has just faded slightly from our generation, but we need to do our best to bring back those elaborate dinner parties, the social group meetups with a bunch of your favorite girls, and the cocktail parties where you start out with fancy mixed drinks and you end up swigging vodka and Mountain Dew and talking about men. We owe it to ourselves.
4. Day drinking with abandon.
Now when you want to reach for that Gin and Tonic with, let’s be honest, just a whisper or two of tonic (and a couple of limes for the health factor!!!), and it’s the middle of the afternoon on a hot day, people look at you like you are clubbing a baby seal that was named after their grandfather. IT’S TIME TO MAKE DAY DRINKING CLASSY AGAIN. My grandmother was amongst the most refined women this world ever knew (think Bunny MacDougal with a tiny bichon frise named Bijoux that followed her everywhere), but god damn if she couldn’t take down a nice midday martini or three. It was just how she was raised, and we were not about to judge her for it. Let’s have more of that, shall we? We need to bring out the parasols, and the lil crustless finger sandwiches, and lay out in random public areas to enjoy the hell out of our mid-afternoon buzz. Men should know, when we arrive on a sunny day with our big-ass hats and sunglasses, to ask us if we prefer a bellini or a cucumber mojito. Can we also get some delicious pool boy fanning us, or is that too much?
5. Wearing incredibly fancy shit for no reason.
Now that we don’t have to do it, let’s be honest that it was kind of amazing that women used to go to the grocery store wearing a petticoat and pearls and poodle skirts and cropped cardigans made of alpaca and heels with jewels on them. Like, that shit is bonkers, and you definitely don’t want to be obligated to do it every day. But wouldn’t it be nice if the cashier at your convenience store who is used to your yoga pant-clad period runs for tampons, wine, and Reese’s Cups was suddenly treated to you in a ball gown coming to pick up some aspirin or something? Let’s bring back fancy clothes for daily activity, because now that our parents aren’t choosing what we wear, there is no reason that a regular old day can’t be a fun game of dress-up.
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