musingsonwomenshealth.com

I find it interesting that I can be so blind to something I see every day. How it can fade so completely into the Gestalt, that it is invisible. Not there.

Is it just me, or do we as a species, always attempt to accommodate to that which is constantly present –block it out like persistent odours- to make room in our heads for other sensations that may be more important for our survival? And yet, we don’t seem to be able to block all things out –patterns for example. We see patterns everywhere –we even invent patterns where there aren’t any- so it strikes me as odd that we can afford to ignore other things which might be even more malevolent. Is it just a matter of getting used to them, once we decide that they mean us no harm? Or, like taking off a pair of glasses, do we simply defocus them so they blur into the background with everything else?

It’s the unpredictability that bewilders me, I think. Why do some things persist, perhaps with only minor variations, while others seem to feel the need to change attire at the slightest whim -or even jump ship entirely? Disappear so thoroughly from sight that what once was common becomes laughable on review? Creepy –until, Phoenix-like , they rise again from their still-smoldering ashes, and mutton-chop sideburns, bell-bottom trousers, or even Afro haircuts are flaunted as if they were newly invented, and we get used to them all over again.

But do we ever get tired of beauty? Or does it have to dress itself up in constantly changing fashions to get our attention? So we don’t take it for granted? So we still regard it as having beauty? Is fashion just a trick to keep us on our toes? And, when is fashion no longer fashion? Is it just when we fail to notice anymore? Then what is it…? Invisible again? There’s something suspiciously circular in that. Suspiciously desperate. Meaningless.

Do I seem petulant about this –or at least leery of being clasped in fashion’s capricious arms? Perhaps it’s my age –although I seldom succumbed to the siren call even in my youth- but I remain genuinely puzzled at its grasp. Some things –like the styles of dresses or ties, as examples- seem sufficiently banal or entertaining to accept with little more than an inquiring glance and perhaps a shrug, while others… Others verge on the bizarre, the dangerous –all, no doubt well-intentioned, seemed-like-good-ideas-at-the-time inventions, and yet in the often unkind light of retrospect, unwise.

The Victoria era corset springs readily to mind. Worn by both sexes to slim the waist, it is better remembered as a device to mould women’s figures into some arbitrarily ideal hourglass shape. And in extreme cases, or with extended use, had deleterious effects on health by restricting the diaphragm, and unduly constricting the abdominal organs. Fortunately, in Western societies at least, they now seem to be confined to museum manikins labelled and planted behind glass like old photographs. Lesson learned…

And yet we may not have learned. There is another fashion as accepted as the corset in its time, and unless exaggerated, as invisible. As unremarked. I refer, of course, to heels –high heels. Once in the exclusive domain of men, they shifted into that of women, as I learned from a CBC article: http://www.cbc.ca/news/health/high-heels-health-and-popularity-1.4458020

‘[..] high heels have been popular for centuries, and were originally worn more by men than by women. “I dated the origin of the heel as far back as the 10th century in Persia,” said Elizabeth Semmelback, senior curator at the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto. “They seemed to have been invented to keep the foot in the stirrup,” she said. “It allowed men on horseback to wield heavier weaponry, to be more successful at warfare, and so they really were a military tool.” From soldiers, the high heel eventually became the footwear of kings. But by the end of the 19th century, the style became fashionable for women only. Over the decades, high heels, and especially stilettos, became synonymous with sexuality […].’

There are those who might defend their use as a way to even out uncomfortable height discrepancies –my first date to a prom with an even shorter girl, for example- but by and large they are just a fashion statements. They are expected in certain circumstances, impractical in others.

But ‘Long-term wearing of high heels can have long-term medical effects for the entire body, said foot specialist Kevin Fraser, a pedorthist at Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre in Toronto.  “Wearing high heels is going to force us to flex our ankles downward, a downward direction, straightening our knees as well as extending the back,” Fraser said. “That can create a whole host of complications within joint levels in the back all the way down to the feet.” People can experience problems ranging from bunions to osteoarthritis, he said.’

I suppose the reason I was even tempted to read an article on high heels stemmed from an incident on a bus –or, rather, off a bus- a few days ago. I was coming home from an evening meal at a downtown restaurant and it was raining quite heavily so people on the sidewalks were being careful about where they stepped. Sidewalks can be dangerous even at the best of times, especially for the elderly –there are cracks and uneven surfaces lurking in shadows cast from street lights at night, or under puddles in the rain.

My particular bus travelled past a seniors home in a posh neighbourhood, and that evening there must have been a concert that had lured several elderly ladies downtown in the evening despite the weather. The bus was noisy and unusually crowded for that time of night, so there were no seats available -the only place I could find to stand was in the aisle opposite the door.

There were two especially well-dressed women seated beside me, chattering excitedly about the music they’d heard, when one of them noticed they were near their stop. As they got up to leave, the bus was still moving, and I noticed one of the ladies wobbling as she stood. From her expression, I don’t think it was alcohol, so much as her unfamiliarity with the length of the heels she had chosen to wear. I suppose they were fashionable, but she seemed rather unstable in them, so I reached out to steady her as she exited the bus onto the curb. As soon as I let go, however, her ankle seemed to give out at an odd ankle and she fell, screaming into her friend.

Unfortunately the door to the bus closed at that point and the bus began to pull away, despite my efforts to notify the driver and keep it open. I was left watching through the window at her being picked up by her friend, unable to put any weight on her foot.

The point of the CBC article was to point out discriminatory dress codes in workplaces such as restaurants that require their female employees to wear high heels. They are considered a sign of being ‘dressed up’, and so prevalent that it is usually unquestioned. Like a tie on a man, the heels on a woman may be an expected accoutrement in some circumstances. Fair enough, I suppose, and yet I wonder if that poor woman on the bus might now have second thoughts about what should be deemed appropriate… I think I would.