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  • Thu, 21, Apr, 2016 - 5:00:AM

Why dressing sexy often has nothing to do with sex

As a woman with a body, I am required by law to wear clothes when I step outside the house. I have no problem with that. Truth be told, I quite like clothes. I like that they keep me warm in winter and protect my skin from the sun in summer. As I was raised in a consumerist culture, I even quite like buying clothes. Clothes are not the main issue at hand.

What is? My body. Some clothes allow those who may be inclined to look a better view of certain parts of my body. My legs, perhaps, or my décolletage. The shape of my ass or my boobs. If I wear such clothing – if I “dress sexy” (and let’s be honest, one person’s sexy is another person’s demure) – I can hear the protestations of a certain group of people before they’ve even opened their mouths.

“Slut,” they’d say. “She must want people to look.”

I assume it would blow these people’s minds to realise that when I “dress sexy”, sex is most often the last thing on my mind. Wearing clothes that I like, or that make me feel good, is actually for my own personal benefit about 95 per cent of the time. Believe it or not, my inner monologue as I walk out the door is much more ‘where am I going again? God the traffic is going to be a nightmare’ than ‘oooo, I hope someone looks at what I’m wearing and has sexual thoughts about me’.

Why clothing that displays my body in a certain way makes me feel good may be a question worthy of inspection. I would surmise that decades of sex-sells advertising probably play a part in the equation somewhere. Notions of femininity, desirability and the often-exploitative economic value of female sexuality are probably all circulating subconsciously in the background, but sometimes I just want to wear a low-cut LBD and feel like I’m rocking it.

And what’s wrong with that? Even on the rare occasions when I wear sexy clothes with the motivation of attracting attention from a certain someone, that doesn’t make me a slut. It certainly doesn’t justify a horrendous crime that may befall me. I may be asking for someone to notice me, but I’m not asking to be non-consensually molested, insulted or assaulted.

No one is.

My clothing has so little to do with sex it’s not even funny. I’m sitting here writing this in tiny lacy shorts and all I can think of is how much I’d like to demolish the ice cream in the freezer. If a love interest walked in right now, took a look at what I was wearing and thought ‘let’s get it on’, my response would likely be “yeah nah… maybe another time. But can you please scoop me some ice cream?”

So, for anyone out there who thinks that a woman’s clothing is some sort of sign or invitation, stop flattering yourself. Unbelievable though it may seem, when we stand in front of our wardrobes cobbling together a costume to get us through the day, you are probably the last thing on our minds.

TAGGED IN

  • Sex /
  • Clothing /
  • Dress Codes /
  • Femininity /
  • Sexuality /
  • Fashion /

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