Lizzie on What Not to Wear
I hate What Not to Wear. The hosts, Stacy and Clinton, are insulting bullies (“Honey, you’re a mess! You need our help. You can’t dress yourself. Wild dogs will attack you if they see that hideous vest.”). Their makeover approach is homogenizing—every woman ends up with the same dewy Carmindy makeup, chin-to-shoulder-length hair, and soporific business casual wardrobe (or polyester blouses with giant floral prints for the housewife types). What Not to Wear is the patriarchy, declaring that, for women, appearance equals identity. And your identity is high-heeled.
Despite hating What Not to Wear with every part of all of me, I ended up watching it last Friday. The makeover victim, Lizzie, was a geeky scientist with an odd, cartoonish voice and the gall, the absolute gall, to wear baggy T-shirts and jeans and hiking boots.
What’s so great about Lizzie is that she lays bare the limitations of the show’s philosophy. She is flourishing professionally (just got her PhD, starting a cool biosomething job studying algae) and romantically (she’s engaged and seems fond of the dude, and he of her). Her clothes have not gotten in the way of her life. And she’s not saying, “Now that I’ve achieved these goals, I really want to work on my fashion sense.” She doesn’t care about being pretty. Every time Stacy and Clinton press her about whether she feels pretty, she gets uncomfortable—not in a low self-esteem way, but in a “this is not an important value to me” way.
Of course, no one’s self-esteem is impenetrable, so after significant badgering, she starts buying what they’re selling—a weird narrative about how her clothes are childish, and she is childish for not wanting to wear kitten heels, and this makeover is part of growing up. I don’t know, Stacy and Clinton. Is it a mark of maturity to go to great lengths to look the way the cool kids are telling you to look?
Despite the influence of Tweedlehenry and Tweedlehiggins, Lizzie’s gonna be Lizzie. She tries on some gray slacks in accordance with the wishes of her overlords but doesn’t understand when she’s supposed to wear them. “What is this for? Is this for giving a talk?” she squeaks. Carmindy does her makeup (dewy, boring) and incoherently compliments her new look. “You’re smart and beautiful on the inside and outside. You’re a triple threat!” Lizzie responds, “I’d rather be a triple-scoop ice cream cone.”
I can’t imagine that Lizzie will retain much of the What Not to Wear advice. She’s not going to do a smoky eye every day. She’s not going to blow her hair out. She might buy more fitted shirts, but those heels are headed straight to the back of the closet. Lizzie’s slow slide back into her old look is the makeover I want to see.
