Mea Culpa | LEAF

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 		<pb n='27' facs="https://leaf.bucknell.edu/sites/default/files/2025-02/heresies02_027.jpg"/> 		
			<head>Mea Culpa*</head>
			<byline>Su Friedrich</byline>
			
				I used to read <title>Vogue</title> "for the photography” the way I read <title>Playboy</title> "for the articles.
 		<quote>Help keep America beautiful</quote>
 		<cit><ref>- Cosmetics ad</ref></cit>
 		
				To assemble the props for this project, I spent an afternoon in the
				room-sized closet of Helen, a clothes maniac. When I lived with
				her, I was always carrying on about "the renunciation of material
				wealth as a primary political act"; I return one year later more
				humble, less certain that this renunciation is actually as easy as
				They make it seem.
 		
				<quote>We are well past the days when beauty was an idle woman's way
				of passing the time — and we’re secure enough to know the difference. Today, when time is something no one has enough of
				when women have jobs, families, and half a dozen other commitments — caring about yourself isn’t the icing on the cake. It's one
				of the responsibilities of everyday life to look as well as you can
				... for yourself ... and for the delight of others.</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Vogue’s "Point of View," 1975</ref></cit>
 		
				Helen is a perfect resource because of her indiscriminate attach
				ment to all clothes. On the same day she’ll buy a satin kimono,
				suede pantsuit and pink mohair sweater and then pack them
				away and continue to wear her Hellenisms. If I were a freudian,
				l’d triumphantly claim her for my “clothes as a sexual surrogate
				thesis. But I'mmore interested in squeezing the lifeblood out of
				the deadly aphorism: Clothes Make The Woman.
 		
				<quote>Tonight, I feel as ethereal as a silken butterfly. This afternoon, I
				helped him change a tire. Is it magic, the moonlight, or Cheryl Baron's slither of silk?</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Clothing ad in Vogue</ref></cit>
				
 		I must remain alert during this project, wary of its seduction.
				have what some people consider the bad habit of rarely confronting myself in the mirror. In fact I'musually surprised to see
				myself. My appearance runs the short course from plain lesbian
				feminist to affordably classy dyke. Even these images seem rigidly
				codified and I am confused and dissatisfied with them.
 		
				<quote>Do you blame me for wanting to be a man—free in a man-made
				world? Do you blame me for hating again to resume a woman's
				clothes and just belong?</quote>
				<note>— Cora Anderson in 1914, who, after
				living as a man, in man's dress, and
				marrying a woman, was "exposed
				and ordered by a court to resume
				wearing female clothes <cit><ref>(cited in Gay
				American History)</ref></cit></note>
				
 		<quote>Gentlemen prefer tuxedos ... When it's you. In your best ...
				double breasted satin tux...</quote>
				<cit><ref>- Clothing ad in The New York Times, 1976</ref></cit>
 		
				It’s a guilty struggle, indulging in fantasies of myself in new
				clothes and roles and then rejecting each of them on “political
				principle”: material projection of self seems at odds with a serious commitment ... And then the cycle twists and I defend artifice as a great form of subversion.<lb/>
				Women stride in boots.
 		
				<quote>Little vests are super — little fur vests, little vests in gold at night
				... Don’t let anyone talk you into one of those suit-with-a-vest
				routines — a take-off on men’s clothes is not what it's all about..</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Clothing ad in Vogue, 1976</ref></cit>
 		
				<quote>There is no intrinsic sin in riding astride a horse, or in wearing
				boots and breeches, but there is harm in violating those decent
				rules by which the conduct of either sex is regulated.</quote>
				<cit><ref>— London Medical Times, 1897
				(quoted in Gay American History)</ref></cit>
 		
				So now, disguised as a “project,” I'mexposing myself to an overwhelming array of visual, emotional and intellectual costumes
				and it’s becoming very difficult to overcome the predetermined
				identities built into these clothes.
 		
				<quote>The wearing of one scent alone can become as much a part of a
				woman’s behavior as the way she speaks, parts her hair, wears
				down her lipstick ... and it's deliberate.</quote>
				<cit><ref>- Editorial comment in Vogue</ref></cit>
 		
				I usually don’t think of myself as having the same soft curves that
				I see displayed everywhere. I imagine that they belong to women
				with very different perceptions of themselves. But no ... in the
				right clothes l’d be indistinguishable from them. Breasts, legs,
				pink, smooth, a mute smile.<lb/>
				And then I know that underneath they’re as full of blood and
				guts as l'am.
 		
				<quote>She dresses for herself but we dress her.</quote> <cit><ref>— Clothing ad in Vogue</ref></cit>
				
 		<quote>More than a way of dressing, Halston is a way of life.</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Clothing ad in Vogue</ref></cit>
 		
				Helen’s attic.<lb/>
				I slip on an apricot satin gown. It gleams. Soft, fantastically
				soft, cool on my thighs, hanging loosely over my breasts. My
				usual garb doesn’t exact such erotic responses from my skin. I
				begin to act out a seduction but it’s very unclear whom I'm seducing. I enter a male fantasy. I see more clearly than ever the
				motives for this madness.
				I was nine years old, reading comic books in the seclusion of my
				back porch. Eagerly, I flipped to the Frederick’s of Hollywood ad
				in the back, my fingers slowly tracing the outlines of those drawings, lingering over the firm pointed breasts and outrageously full
				hips. Stroking, stroking. Squeezing my eyes shut I dreamt of perfect curves and crevices, of cleavage and sculpted limbs on those
				crazy high heels.
 		
				In the more discreet magazines of high school and college I recognized Frederick’s aesthetic translated into Tasteful and Chic.
				They had merely disguised it as “The Fresh Young Look" and
				"The New Romanticism."
				
 		<quote>In 1678 Abbe Jacques Boileau published “A just and seasonable
				Reprehension of naked Breasts, etc.</quote>
				<cit><ref>Quoted in The Unfashionable Human Body</ref></cit>
 		<pb n='28' facs="https://leaf.bucknell.edu/sites/default/files/2025-02/heresies02_028.jpg"/>
				Feeling guilty: "How can I worry about the world of fashion
				while the world out there is falling apart?" The World and The
				Fashion World? It’s clear how divisive and misleading man-made
				categories are.
 		
				I recall the months of hours spent in Catholic girls’ high school
				earning the admiration of friends and the disapproval of the
				nuns. Their typically "altruistic" rationale for our hideous uniforms was that they were freeing our energy for pursuits more
				honorable than vanity, but by basing this rationale on their priorities (chastity before comfort) rather than our own, they were
				destined to fail. Precisely because everything was so ugly (to our
				self-conscious eyes) we spent that precious energy undermining
				the dress code.
 		
				Red bras or naked breasts shone through the thin white blouses,
				high heels and gym shoes replaced the tyrannical saddle shoe,
				arms were laden with clattering jewelry, eyes and lips and
				nails changed color every day, and 3:00 brought the hysterical
				rush to change into presentable street clothes.
 		
				<quote>The consciousness of being perfectly dressed may bestow a peace such as religion cannot give.</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Herbert Spencer</ref></cit>

In the days when I should have been daydreaming about boys, I
				was busy admiring magazine models, my classmates, and myself.
				I was being trained to appreciate the artificial and real curves,
				gestures and textures of women, but while I never wanted that
				physical perfection in those to whom I was emotionally attracted,
				I demanded it of myself. It seemed, however, that the harder I
				tried to achieve that perfection, the more elusive it became. I saw
				how arbitrary the rules actually were; I learned to laugh and to
				formulate some of my own ideas.
				Powerful feelings of rejection set in: even my most stalwart
				friends were trying to "grow up," to dress and act “maturely." In
				response, I discovered nervous habits, too much unwanted atten
				tion, too little love, self-consciousness and ANGER.<lb/>
				Thanks for the anger.
				<quote>"Dressing should be exactly that —a tasteful overlaying that
				brings out the best in me. And you know what: This is the year I
				can really be mel" We understand you at Saks Fifth Avenue.</quote>
				<cit><ref>Clothing ad in Vogue</ref></cit>
				Like most mothers, mine is respectful of Culture. I once went
				with her to The Ballet, in old jeans, my favorite peasant blouse,
				and without shoes. I try now, seven years later, to remember her
				shame, and her rage (at me). She asked, “Why do you DO it?",
				sounding as if I was poisoning babies. But I don’t predicate my
				appearance on how effectively it will offend others. I am confronting how I alone want to dress. If I am ostracized because I
				dress like a "slob" or a "dyke," she mutters something about my
				deserving" it. They all do. The impulse to please her, to conform, is a glass splinter in my gut, dangerous to extract but fatal
				to ignore. What else can I do but try?
				I admit the monster in me. I salute the witch. My ancestors were
				proud and fierce and slaughtered. My sisters remember. We
				remind each other, we snarl.
				<quote>Spot tip: to reduce a too-full upper lip, outline it with a white
 		pencil and smudge it down.</quote>
 		<cit><ref>Beauty tips in Vogue</ref></cit>
 		
				I go to Woolworths for makeup for this project. I have to work
				some black magic on my unkempt face. I expertly "blush on,
				frost my lips, sculpt my lids with manufactured nature.
				Why does it feel so natural to perform this ritual? I want to feel
				terribly strange. I want to experience it with the same bewilderment that someone from a preindustrial culture would feel on seeing the first photograph of herself, but I feel as if l’d never been
				away from it.
				<quote>The Papuans, for instance, have a high regard for the vibrating
				buttocks of their women who early learn to cultivate a provocative walk.</quote>
				<cit><ref>in The Unfashionable Human Body</ref></cit>
				
				<list>
					<item>-First in class to shave my legs. Brave.</item>
				<item>— Discarded my bra with my Catholicism. Subversive.</item>
				<item>- Wore sandals and a long braid at the university. Intellectual.</item>
				<item>- Feel professional in my velvet jacket. Adult.</item>
				</list>
				I see how powerfully Their definitions have defined my reactions,
				how much my spontaneity has been predetermined. This affects
				not only how I to dress but how I respond to others.<lb/>
				The "Ahh, I thought so” when a woman’s actions fit her appearance.<lb/>
				And the delightful confusion when a woman in Ladydrag gets
				ANGRY, gets FURIOUS.<lb/>
				The disappointment when gym shoes and labyris protect a hypocrite.<lb/>
				The disorienting pleasure when a "butchy” woman speaks tenderly to me.
				
 		How ludicrous.<lb/>
				But I challenge anyone to say that she doesn’t go through the
				same gyrations.<lb/>
				I hate it. I hate it and I keep doing it.<lb/>
				Everyone tells me not to worry, "Everyone does it."<lb/>
				A lousy argument.<lb/>
				Whatever happened to self-definition? To inner-directed fantasy?
				
 		<quote>... there is a woman among the Snakes who once dreamed that
				she was a man and killed animals in the chase. Upon waking, she
				assumed her husband's garments, took his gun and went out to
				test the virtue of her dream; she killed a deer. Since that time she
				has not left off man's costume ... by some fearless actions she
				has obtained the title of "brave” and the privilege of admittance
				to the council of chiefs. Nothing less than another dream could
				make her return to her gown.</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Pierre-Jean de Smet (quoted in Gay American History)</ref></cit>
 		
				The danger lies in rebelling on Their terms, replacing one dictate
				with another. Are we really appeased now that we can wear
				pants to work? No ... we embrace the egalitarianism of pants
				and then create socioeconomic distinctions between pants, slacks
				and trousers, between fine and grubby pants.
				Fashion changes, but its significance remains: style costs money.
				We have been taught to be grateful for the “democratic” variety
				in our lives, but our clothes reflect our economic tyranny. Not
				only can few of us afford the ever-changing demands of fashion,
				but we are also destroying animals and the earth to satiate our
				insatiable "needs."
				This isn’t a fixed reality, it’s been built from egocentric and ruth
				less fantasies. Alter the fantasy and we alter the reality.
				<quote>The mystery of fashion is that this sudden change of detail is
				imposed on women: they cannot escape it ... In matters of style,
				women obey some hidden law analogous to the one that decides
				the colors of the wings of birds or the petals of flowers.</quote>
				<cit><ref>in Feminine Fulfillment</ref></cit>
 		<pb n='29' facs="https://leaf.bucknell.edu/sites/default/files/2025-02/heresies02_029.jpg"/>
			
				We must begin to believe in a value-free body aesthetic; free
				choice will come only when the options aren’t value-laden.
				<quote>Im tired of sad-looking women, of drab suffragettes, of dull and unbecoming colors.</quote>
				<cit><ref>Valentino, clothing designer</ref></cit>
				
				Trying to extricate myself.<lb/>
				Trying to think without Do’s and Don’ts, feminine and masculine, fame or famine.
				
 		Growing up a Catholic middle-class white girl taught me the
				value of disobedience. I have a vivid sense of my difference and I
				want to exploit this to catalyże a reaction, to force a confrontation of values.
				My appearance is an immediate, nonverbal statement and what I
				do subsequently either confirms or destroys people’s assumptions; they don’t want to hear an articulate defense of my "bad
				habits." They want room to condescend.
				They tell me l’d "improve my chances” if I wore the right things.
				Chances? Is this a lottery? Who are they to decide my worth?
				
 		I know that we need to feel okay about ourselves, but the ques
				tion here is using clothes to get or keep privilege.
 		
				<quote>... as hard times were crowding upon us, I made up my mind to
				dress in men’s attire to seek labor as I was used to men’s work.
				And as I might work harder at housekeeping and get only a dollar
				per week, and I was capable of doing men’s work and getting
				men’s wages, I resolved to try.</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Lucy Ann Lobdell, 1854, age 25.</ref></cit>
				
 		When I feel jealous of women who "survive” by wearing the right
				trinkets smells shoes colors, I remind myself that with the game
				comes the terror of losing. I had assumed that being a dyke meant
				not playing the game, but I'min the same trap as an obedient sister. She has to remain desirable by Their standards while I have
				to continually fight Their insistence that I be desirable. I fall into
				the trap of thinking that I had no interest in being desirable.<lb/>
				Of course I do, but not on Their terms.
 		
				<quote>There is a way of dressing— a way of looking—that to American
				women is like a way of life. It has to do with a certain free-wheeling casualness and dash that goes through and through and up and down.</quote>
				<cit><ref>-Vogue</ref></cit>				
				<ab>Slob.</ab>
 		
				<quote>... elegant clothing becomes your coat of arms, by which others
				will recognize that this is indeed yourself. A rag can be eminently
				elegant, as we see in Andalusia with the beggars ... We understand that elegance is not conferred by luxury but rather by
				poverty; the latter brings us close to a state of nature where nothing is useless.</quote>
					<cit><ref>in Feminine Fulfillment</ref></cit>
				<ab>Hippie.</ab>
 		
				<quote>Thank you, Arthur Richards. At last, someone recognized that
				women prefer what gentlemen prefer. And that's the fit and quality of menswear tailoring.</quote>
				<cit><ref>Vogue</ref></cit>
				<ab>Dyke.</ab>
				
	<quote>Confidence is a Lady in a Leon Levin.</quote>
				<cit><ref>— Vogue</ref></cit>
				<ab>Ballbreaker.</ab>
 		
<quote>The new bareness ... and what it takes to wear it.</quote>
				<cit><ref>— Vogue</ref></cit>
 		<ab>Whore.</ab>
 		
				People resent anyone who won’t dress "nicely.” We defile their
				sanctified spaces.<lb/>
				"Irreverent!<lb/>
				It’s just a phase."<lb/>
				"When I was your age...
 		
				I am not a string of phases. I am no age.<lb/>
				In childhood they taught me that acceptance and success would
				come only with conformity. But my acceptance of myself has
				come only through nonconformity. They call me selfish because I
				don’t want to validate their “need" for discretion and propriety,
				their need to belong. I answer that the incessant craving to be
				legitimate is the corrupting force in all of us.
				
 		I don’t want to have to dress like a man to get in.<lb/>
				I’m not interested in looking like a Lady to receive sanction.<lb/>
				I’m tired of being fooled by flannel shirts.<lb/>
				I'm not a feminist because of my boots.
			
			
				What are we all trying so desperately to."get into” anyway?<lb/>
				Who wants to rent a room in a burning building?
			
			
				* During Catholic mass, the assembled chant “Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea
				maxima culpa” (through my fault, through my fault, through my most
				grievous fault) as they beat their breasts three times.
				Thank you Helen for your clothes, and Amy Sillman and Cynthia Carr for
				assisting in the photography, and Jonathan Katz, <title>Gay American History</title>
				(New York: Crowell, 1976), Bernard Rudofsky, <title>The Unfashionable Human
				Body</title> (Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Books, 1974) and Jean Guitton, <title>Feminine Fulfillment</title> (New York: Paulist Press, 1965).
 	</div>
 </body>
 	<back>
				Su Friedrich teaches photography to the women at Bedford Hills (N.Y.)
				Correctional Facility, is a freelance photographer and lecturer and a mem
				ber of the Heresies Collective.</back>
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