It is often said that there is a female culture of admiring pretty things. Whether they are sparkly, shiny, fluffy, sleek, elegant, feathery, smooth or just plain gorgeous – there’s something so compelling about pretty things.

Part of the reason is undoubtedly a socially-constructed femininity that includes a fascination with adornment for the sake of beauty. Patriarchy gives Pretty a bad name. Because of that, it is easy as a feminist to shy away from pretty things. If it is patriarchally mandated, we want none of it. We are supposed to be the Resistance*!

[Yes we’re back to the collaborateur theme of yesterday!]

Still, who could not want a vulva puppet like this one? Who could give the Vagina Lady’s mini-vaginas a cold shoulder? What about a lovely carved goddess pendant? Or some Puddlepants?

Ah, me.

Because pretty things are lovely. They are alluring. They are nice.

You will notice, however, that not one of my suggestions was a pair of crippling shoes, or a revealing little outfit or indeed anything that was intended to be part of a beauty ritual for the benefit of the male gaze. They are pretty for their own sake. I happen to think that’s important.