It took me a while, but I have settled on the paper topic I will be presenting (fingers crossed) at the Popular Culture Association conference in San Diego next April. Since I am in the middle of a giant research project, I had lots of choices, but this one kept calling to me. Here is the abstract I submitted. What do you think? 

I am on research leave this fall semester, working on Age Appropriate. So far, that has meant a mix of reading, very rough drafts, and daydreaming. But today I took a huge step, but reaching out to people who -- hopefully -- can help me with a vital part of my research. In just over a month, I will head to North Platte, Nebraska, the town where I lived as a little girl. The burning question on mind is, "Who would I be, if we had not moved away?" 

You may wonder what this has to do with gender and fashion. So do I, sometimes. But deep inside, I know there is a connection. My journey from infancy to the edge of old age is not just temporal; it is also geographical, social, and cultural. I have reached out to the local paper, the high school I would have attended, the town library, and the church where my family worshipped. Now I just have to hope that at least some of the kids I knew stuck around.

​Wish me luck!

       Have you ever had your neural synapses re-wired? I love when that happens. In this case, I was reading a non-fashion book and BOOM, there was the answer to a question lurking in my brain. (From my upcoming presentation at the Popular Culture Association meeting in Seattle.)

       Since the 1950s, it has become commonplace to define sex as biological and gender as culture. According to one medical dictionary,

Sex is "The biologic character or quality that distinguishes male and female from one another as expressed by analysis of the person's gonadal, morphologic (internal and external), chromosomal, and hormonal characteristics."
    Gender is "The category to which an individual is assigned by self or others, on the basis of sex."

     As some feminist biologists have argued, the way in which we assign sex, whether at birth or after examining a grainy sonogram image, is itself cultural. Ignoring chromosomes, hormones, and internal anatomy, we assign sex based on external genitalia. We then surround babies with gendered sights, sounds, and interactions that, we are now learning, influences brain development. Instead of nature and nurture as separate forces, biology and culture work together to create us first as male and female, and then as masculine and feminine.  That is only part of the larger picture that includes other forces and experiences that we incorporate into our sense of self and belonging. These forces include not only sexism, but racism, classism, and -- most relevant to this paper -- ageism. What is the relationship between the categories we use for ourselves and our beliefs about those categories?

      In Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates argues that race is the child of racism — that the way we define and categorize race comes from a racism -- a deep belief in the innate superiority a dominant group. This not only resonates with me in terms of race, but so many other categories of difference. It could follow that class is the child of classism, gender is the child of sexism, and age is the child of ageism. The way we define and delineate age categories stem from cultural beliefs about the life course, that, like the beliefs about gender and race, are not so much biological truths as the result of our selective assumptions and expectations about biological events.  Yes, we as humans experience birth, puberty, menopause, and death, but the way we envision our lives’ progress or decline through these events is shaped by culture. What is  the “right”age for a boy to wear a dress -- “up to age four” or “only when he is christened”? This same principle applies to notions of what constitutes “age appropriate” clothing for girls and women across the lifespan, and it is the focus of my next book.

      Learning to be female is not a weekend workshop or even a four-year-degree program. It is a lifelong process of education in the truest sense — being led into each life stage along a cultural path shaped by beliefs about aging and gender. We continually measure ourselves against mass -mediated images of female  and standards of femininity.

(From the very-much-in-progress  Age Appropriate.)

Here comes puberty.

The truly odd thing is that my life from about 10 to 14 is relatively undocumented by my otherwise shutterbug father. So I have a few pictures, but not what I would like for this project. 

Here's what I remember:

1960-61 

First bra in late fifth grade or early sixth grade. It was one of those silly knit "grow bras" and I had already outgrown it. In sixth grade (1960-61) I went from one end of the gym line to the other, having grown six inches. I was no longer a short, skinny girl who loved to run and jump rope. Bouncing boobs were too embarrassing. My posture deteriorated. I lived in terror of boys snapping my bra strap, and was sure everyone was staring at me.

Summer of 1961

My first nylons, shaving my legs, my first purse, and first and only subteen dress. By that fall I was 5' 9" and wearing a misses 14. That summer a lifeguard flirted with me because he thought I was in high school, which I found funny and flattering.

Fall, 1961 (7th grade)

Trying to figure out what to wear was a constant puzzle. I outgrew girls' clothes so fast, and went right into misses sizes. I experimented with nail polish, make-up, and new hairstyles but had trouble getting the hang of it.

Maybe it is a good thing there aren't more pictures.

​My current project is about how women in American learn to perform femininity and how they define it for themselves from childhood to the brink of old age. If you are a woman born in 1949 (or graduated from high school in 1967) and willing to share your experiences in a private Facebook group, contact me.

​Looking through my old photos raises some questions about the origins of my personal sense of style. My mother chose or made most of my school clothes, and I don't recall having much say about them until later elementary school (probably fifth or sixth grade). I am not sure why she didn't pick pastels, or why my clothes were so tailored, but it probably had to do with her taste as well as her perception of me. 

With the first draft of Book 2 (Sex and Unisex) complete, I want to take a few minutes to express my gratitude. Karin Bohleke of the Fashion Archives and Museum at Shippensburg (PA) University let me spend two days looking for images, and has been sending additional lagniappes all summer. My Facebook  and Twitter communities have been supportive and generous with comments and encouragement. None has been more of a champ than Eliza, a sister in microbrew love who offered to read the (very rough) draft and contributed valuable comments, questions and corrections. My friends and family in real life have been patient beyond belief, given that my writing mode is pretty antisocial. (Special shoutout to Jim, Katie, MaryBeth and Sandy, the stalwarts of the Franklin's Regulars). The folks at Indiana University Press are awesome, full stop. Every author should be so lucky as to work with such pros. 

I also want to thank the software wizards behind the tools that make my writing life a joy. I would be completely lost without Scrivener, Index Card and Zotero. No lie.

What's next?


The draft heads to IUPress and out for review. In a few months, I'll get reviewers' comments and revise the draft. Hopefully, Sex and Unisex will be out in early 2015. In the meantime, watch this space for more posts about gender and appearance, ranging from news items to snippets that were left out of books 1 and 2 to previews of Book 3 (oh yes!). The working title is Age Appropriate, and it will be about how women over 50 deal with gendered cultural expectations. Stick with me!