Woman in chains

The other day I had reason to do a little research on what life was like for women in Britain in the 1920s.  It really made me think.  It was such an important era for my gender, perhaps the most significant moment being when the right to vote was finally extended to all women over the age of twenty-one in 1928.  In the same decade, female students were first allowed to receive university degrees, having previously been able to pass examinations with the same honours as their male counterparts but without any entitlement to the educational qualification.  Hard to imagine that now.

Largely due to the knock-on effects of WWI, fewer women were forced into domestic service and there were more opportunities for paid / better paid work in respected professions. Technological development (e.g. electric steam irons and upright vacuum cleaners!) also helped reduce time spent on housework and enabled greater independence.  Whilst there was still a long way to go, it must have been quite a momentous time in the lives of many, and it must have felt as if at least some of the prior shackles of sexism had been irreversibly loosened.  No wonder it was the era of the Flapper, and a time when women's fashions also liberated them from all those restrictive laces and hoops.

From 'Costume Through The Ages'  James Laver

But you knew all that, didn’t you, so why am I mentioning it?  It’s just that after I’d been reading about it, I was contemplating how far we’ve come and how fortunate I am to be female in the 21st century when I saw this young woman in town - just one fairly typical example of a certain demographic.  It was the middle of the day but she was hobbling along in very high heels, clearly having difficulty with anything faster or greater than tiny, wobbly, tiptoe steps, and she kept stroking and checking her glossy but obvious hair extensions which I imagine must have taken some time to glue in.  She reached into her handbag in such a way you’d be forgiven for thinking there was a highly venomous snake lurking in there.  I realised when I saw her nails why she'd been so tentative – they were very long and each one, meticulously painted, was embedded with tiny gems.  Obviously she didn’t want to risk damaging them by having to actually use her fingers. 

If caring about how you look is a crime then I'm guilty too, with my love of make-up, addiction to haircuts and a jacket fetish, and I know I obsessed about my image terribly when I was younger, but hopefully never to the point where I was actually physically restricted to any significant extent.  (Although... I hated going out in the rain because it made my carefully crafted spiky hair go curly and yes, that really bugged me...)  But if it ever really impinges on your freedom then surely something must be wrong?  I can't help questioning whether that young woman I saw exemplifies a current breed of female so imprisoned by their compulsion to look a certain way that they're in danger of turning into fragile, overly self-conscious mannequins - barely able to walk, barely able to use their hands, barely daring to move their heads for fear of snagging their false (and probably very expensive) locks. Pun intended.  Perhaps they're daily slaves to the razor (or the wax or the Veet) too, for there is no greater sin than having body hair these days is there?  And I can’t help but wonder if she or her friends ever peruse that other popular menu of Opportunities for the Modern Woman, with its à la carte breast implants (buy one get one free!), house botox and teeth whitening deals on the specials board.

I know there's plenty of pressure on men too, so this isn't meant to be some kind of feminist rant (I'd make a crap feminist, I like men far too much ;-) ).  Just an observation.

We've never been so free... ?