Chanel, emotions, feminism, so much in one post!

The other day, I gleefully informed my direct supervisor that I had tracked down one of the original designers of a project I had been researching. She is now in her 70's and retired, but to be not only a woman engineer but to rise to the top of the ranks in her engineering firm must have been quite an achievement, in the 1970's.

Later, he asked me whether I had personally experienced any sexism in my career. I told him quite honestly that while I may have heard the occasional remark that made me uncomfortable, I had never experienced any institutionalized sexism, nor had I ever felt that my career had been hindered by being a woman, especially in Alaska. He told me how when he was growing up in rural North Dakota, women did heavy farmwork, hunted, and wore jeans and no makeup. "Feminism" was not a word that was on anyone's mind, but women had all of the rights, responsiblities, priviliges, and burdens as men. When he later moved to Maryland and worked in Washington D.C., he was somewhat taken aback to see women in crippling high heels and time-consuming makeup, talking loudly about feminism and women's equality. It struck him as ironic and contradictory.

Later that afternoon, this beautiful advertisement crossed my path:


And I have to admit that I love it--the music, the beautiful model, the focus on the woman's mature self-celebration instead of the sexy coquettishness that is so often emphasized in women's cosmetic ads. It is often said that there are two ways for a woman to dress herself nicely--to appeal to men and to appeal to women. Men don't care about designer clothes, don't know what hemline length is currently trendy, and don't like red lipstick. Red lipstick, then, becomes synonymous with a woman dressing to feel better about herself, instead of to attract or seduce a man.

The mesmerizing ad closes with a quote from Coco Chanel herself:
"If you are sad, if you are heartbroken, make yourself up, dress up, add more lipstick, and attack. Men hate women who weep."

Generalizing that last line to remove the sex-focus that was still de rigueur at that time, you have a stunning moneymaker of a statement:
"If you are sad, if you are heartbroken, make yourself up, dress up, add more lipstick, and attack. People hate people who weep."

That, my friends, is professional advice for the ages. Just as there's no crying in baseball, there's no crying in the professional world. As BT has eloquently pointed out, bringing your personal drama to the office does not get you sympathy. It gets you distrust, suspicion, and loss of faith in your abilities. Especially if you are a woman.

Coco Chanel was a very savy former of her own life. She was born to an unwed laundrywoman of peasant stock, in a class-concious 1880's France. She grew up, as you know, to form one of the most powerful fashion houses in the world. She was also a savy businesswoman, if ruthless enough to ally with the Nazis when it was advantageous to her personal fortune.

Coco Chanel promoted in her women's clothing designs love and celebration of self. Her Wikipedia description says, "As a couturière, the milliner and dressmaker Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel presented and established new clothing and costume designs that promoted women from being male objects of conspicuous consumption and sexual display, to being persons who dressed for themselves, in comfortable clothes that allowed free movement."

So while my personal style closely reflects my boss's feelings about women's fashion (right now, I'm rocking a floral print cotton skirt, a cotton T-shirt, Clarks sandals, and tinted lip balm), I have a deep respect for the Chanel philosophy. And if some women feel stronger in a full face of makeup and designer clothes, who is anyone else to say it's anti-progress?

And, if I were a lawyer in New York or a stockbroker in Hong Kong instead of an engineer in Fairbanks, I'd totally buy that lipstick.