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!]
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.