I Miss GLAMOUR!

I miss dressing up to go out. I miss wearing hats. I miss feeling elegant. I wear jeans, shirts, sometimes t-shirts (though a few are raw silk)—but I miss glamour, I miss elegance. I live in California where even in sophisticated San Francisco, with all their society doings, they are not really glamorous. They are sexy, yes. They are coifed, yes. They are made up, yes. But the air about them is not glamorous. Nor is glamour extant these days in Hollywood. No languid drapery. No elegant wraps. No graceful poses. No.

Even the many models on runways have no glamour. The clothes they wear are not meant to enhance the women they bedeck. They are meant to make a statement, not about the wearer, but about the designer.

I want to see glamour. I want to wear glamour. I want to feel glamour. I want to champion glamour.

I think our society began to die when we no longer cared about ourselves enough to take time and care with our inner selves—nor respected our outer selves enough and those outer selves with whom we came in contact—to dress well on a consistent basis. I don't speak only of women. I speak of men as well. Men look wonderful in suits. Why are they so averse to wearing them?

If we all dressed well, with a little glamour even by day, and were less instantly familiar, less constantly casual, dressing as though we cared about presenting a pleasing exterior to the rest of the world, a sort of walking neighborhood improvement project, we might address the stranger we talk to on the phone, as someone shocked me this evening by doing, as Ms. X. or Mr. Y., instead of Sue or Bob. We might even begin to respect each other enough not to destroy each others' property, each others' egos, each others' lives, each others' souls, not just here but everywhere.

We love the little 16" bits of glamour. Why don't we emulate them?