The internet seems to be losing its mind over the "RompHim" (TM), the one-piece leisure outfit for men that raised a pile of money on Kickstarter. Because I was in the throes of the usual end-of-the-semester chaos, I have ignored it until now. I am going to do a few posts on the trend, so stay tuned.

Let's start with a little historical perspective. Rompers are not new, and they are not feminine. The romper's 18th century ancestor, the skeleton suit, was exclusively for small boys who were too young for adult clothing and too old for baby dresses. Yes, dresses. Calm down.

The modern romper (sometimes called a creeper) was introduced in the late 19th century as a casual garment for toddlers -- male and female. It remained popular through the 1960s, by which time it was also worn by older children and adults as a leisure style. In other words, for a couple of generations it was unisex, though there were "feminine" and "masculine" variations for folks who wanted a more gendered version.

When gendered clothing became the norm in the 1980s, rompers apparently got sorted into the "feminine " category, according to the same cockamamie logic that made kitties and purple feminine. There is no natural law that determines this; it is a cultural mystery, and it is both arbitrary and negotiable.

So if a guy wants to wear a romper, by any name, it should be no big deal. Simmer down, Internet.

​If you follow social media, you've seen the story about the leggings ban on United Airlines. This Reuters article is the most thorough reporting I have seen on the subject. I will quote from their excellent coverage:

Watts reported what she witnessed -- or thought she witnessed, and social media caught fire.

I have a friend who works in transportation who commented on Facebook that even though he works for a different employer, the same rules apply. Enforcement seems to be left up to someone at the gate, which was part of the problem, not unlike when vague school dress codes are interpreted by teachers and administrators. The issue also seems to have been resolved -- eventually -- so I will confine my comments to generalities, rather than the United situation.

The courts have ruled, over the last forty years or so, that employers are well within their rights in establishing dress codes to enforce a pleasing, uniform appearance, as long as the rules did not prevent a class of people (men, women, African Americans, Muslims) from being able to gain employment. Leisure wear and sloppy or revealing clothing is usually prohibited, though what Americans consider "leisure" is a moving target, and the line between "sloppy" and "casual" is practically invisible at times, and "revealing" -- forget trying to define that, beyond nudity.

In my study of dress code litigation in the 1960s and 70s, I found that the authorities usually argued that conformity and submission to rules was especially necessary for boys and young men. Girls’ dress codes, in contrast, placed a premium on modesty. The rhetoric in the dress codes reinforced this distinction.  Boys’ regulations were more likely to mention “conventional” standards; girls' restrictions were more likely to mention "revealing" styles or parts of the body that should be covered. Not much has changed since then; men and women are still expected to abide by gender rules that are very different. The rules for women dictate careful management of an image balanced between girlish/ladylike and seductive. For men, there is very little space or place for sexual display, or even individual expression. Instead, boys and men are trained to operate with a very limited visual range. 

Recently, I have been asked if leggings are pants. (Sort of, but some of them function more like a combination of stockings and foundation garments.) I have also been asked if they are going to go out of style. (Most likely; doesn't everything?) I know some school administrators and parents who will be very relieved when they do. Until they see the Next Big Thing.

I am going to take my time figuring out the cultural meaning of American Girl's introduction of a boy character doll, because it is hard to interpret until the consumer response is clear. After all, I don't create the meaning, nor is the meaning inherent in the packaged and advertised product. 

Last week I did an interview with Kathryn Luttner of Campaign US, about Logan, and it was published yesterday. It's quite interesting, since she writes for an industry audience. I mentioned at the end of the interview that we'd be discussing Logan in my Fashion and Consumer Culture class, she was curious about what my students would have to say. Most of the discussion was more of a review of Grant McCracken's theory of meaning transfer from culture to consumer via consumption objects, so it isn't particularly relevant. But here is the interesting part:

"Ruff 'n Tuff" play pal for boys. Dressed in non-removable play clothes". I pointed out that the earlier versions could be undressed and dressed. One discussion group decided that boys would certainly be harmed if they undressed a "boy" doll and discovered he had no penis. 

If a boy doll has no penis, he is not a boy and can not use men's bathrooms in conservative jurisdictions. If he does have a penis, and his clothes are not removable, his masculinity is like "a tree falling in a forest" with no one to hear. If his clothes can be removed (penis or no penis) he is encouraging cross-dressing and possibly homoerotic sexual curiosity. Poor American Girl! Caught between a rock and a hard place!​

As mysteries go, this will never enjoy a BBC production. After all, it features no bodies, no stolen jewels, and no charismatic detective. Just an aging professor, dressed in well-worn L.L. Bean basics, trying to figure out what happened to the women's clothing range formerly known as "half sizes".

Half sizes were designed for "mature figures" -- women with fuller, lower busts, waists that were larger in proportion to bust and hips than "Misses" sizes, and shorter from neck to waist than "Misses" or "Women's" figures. Half sizes were seldom sleeveless, and the sleeve seam and upper arm were roomier. Skirts were usually longer than other size ranges. Shoulders were more rounded. In other words, half sizes were for postmenopausal women. Until they disappeared in the late 1980s. 

So what? Why should anyone care? 
Here's the thing. If sizes associated with age (half sizes) do not exist, women over fifty must select clothing from the remaining size ranges based on the size, shape and proportion of their bodies. This sounds like a good thing, but there's this reality: we are not all Helen Mirren. We are also not 20-something plus-size models. Some of look like this, or will, if we live long enough:

And so, I wonder, how did the elimination of half sizes change the ways in which older women see themselves? As baby boom women age, what options will we have, and and what will we choose?

I am tempted to post this without comment, but decided against it. This was my world as a young woman. Not just for secretaries, but for just about any woman seeking employment. The author, Ruth Millett, was not particularly conservative; she made her reputation early in her career as an advocate for working mothers during World War II. The advice she dispenses here was what we heard from our mothers, teachers, and mentors, because it was just the way things were. 

I have no doubt that Hillary Clinton heard this advice at least as much as I did. Keep this in mind the next time you hear someone complain about "her voice, her clothes, her smile". 

Day three of my research trip was a real eye-opener. I am still settling in and feeling my way around, so what I learned was pretty random, but still interesting.

For the next few weeks, I will be visiting my old home town, North Platte, Nebraska, in search of answers to a long (and growing) list of questions. Some of the questions are personal, and I will be blogging those elsewhere. But they intersect with questions related to my current book project about women, fashion, and identity across the life course. Those questions -- and whatever answers I find -- will be posted here.

Intersectionality -- defined as "the complex, cumulative manner in which the effects of different forms of discrimination combine, overlap, or intersect" -- has played an increasingly important part in my research. Decades ago, it was sufficient to focus on gender and sexism, but the realities of discrimination and have led scholars to also incorporate racism, classism, and other oppressive ideologies into their work. My interest is in how ageism works in these mixtures.

At the same time, I am fearful of trying to take on too much -- too many variables. So this trip reduces the complexity to the intersectional life courses of white women of my own age, but with whom I share a common origin. I lived in Nebraska for the first eight years of my life, seven in the bustling railroad town of North Platte. How would my life have been different if my family had not moved to the New Jersey suburbs, and then to rural New England? What was it like to grow up in North Platte?

Specifically, I expect to begin with questions like these:

• Who have been their style influencers/icons?
• Where do they shop?
• Do they sew or knit?
• What were high school dress codes like in the 1960s?
• What do they wear to work? To church? Grocery shopping?
• What do they think of Advanced Style

It took me a while, but I have settled on the paper topic I will be presenting (fingers crossed) at the Popular Culture Association conference in San Diego next April. Since I am in the middle of a giant research project, I had lots of choices, but this one kept calling to me. Here is the abstract I submitted. What do you think?