Resurrecting Macrame-nia is a Great Idea! Knot.

             When it comes to fashion and décor, I enjoy revisiting bygone eras, taking pleasure in the nostalgia they elicit. But I do have my limits. There are those decades I’d just as soon exclude from any revival movement. Ever.  Among them, the 1970s.

             The fact I’m not a current fan of the ‘70s decade doesn’t mean I eschewed all of its trends when I lived through them. On the contrary, I enthusiastically embraced “feathered” hair a la Farrah,  bell-bottomed pants, peasant blouses, wooden platformed shoes. I even bought my husband a leisure suit (which, thank goodness, he had the good sense to despise and wore only twice). As I was writing this post, I caught myself humming "The Age of Aquarius" (which actually came out in 1969, but close enough). To decorate my first home, I took inspiration from the apartment of Chrissy, Jack, and Janet of Three’s Company fame. And I was enamored of macramé.

A couple of examples of
the macrame art that
decorated my 1970s home

With walls and ceilings
amply adorned, we could move
on to apparel.

(For the record, my aunt made these
pieces. I stuck mainly with three-prong
pot hangers.)

       I’m not sure what it was about tying knots that had the country ensnarled in that craze, but you can count me as a victim of ‘70s macrame-nia. I think part of my zeal was inspired by an aunt who was truly a person created to create. Her hands were constantly busy—crocheting, knitting, sewing, weaving, even spinning. And she was a consummate teacher, loving nothing better than sharing her skills with anyone who wanted to learn them. In the ‘70s, she found willing and eager  students among family and friends for her macramé classes. In knot-tying frenzies, we  fashioned hangers for anything from pots to pendant lights. Products of our new-found skill were suspended from every square foot above our heads. At one point, my dad flatly refused to hang any more of my mother’s “art” for fear the ceiling would collapse. With the space above us either off-limits or filled, we moved on to wall hangings, window and door coverings, purses, belts, jewelry, vests, hats...even bikinis. (I actually never had a macrame bikini, so don't ask me how that worked.) The options were endless, running out of rope being the  only deterrent to our productivity.

            With the comeback capability of a boomerang, macramé has enjoyed a long and interesting history  of wafting in and out of popularity. Originating in the 13^th century with Arab weavers, the skill worked its way across Europe. In the 17^th century, Queen Mary taught it to her ladies-in-waiting. Sailors brought it to the New World, where, in the 1970s, hippies and housewives practically made a cottage industry out of it. Macramé fell out of favor for a couple of decades, but the other day on the Houzz website, an article suggested it might be staging yet another appearance. A quick search revealed dozens of Pinterest boards dedicated to it. Of course, for the sake of marketing, this most recent phase will involve innovative twists such as...fewer owls.

            As far as I’m concerned, even a dearth of owls can’t be innovative enough to make resurrecting macrame-nia a good idea. It roped me in once, but as with many trends and fads, once is enough.

 

            Any thoughts on this? I’d love to hear from those of you who, like me, were entangled in the ‘70s macramé web.

Latest Marketing Ploy--More Questions Than Answers

            No doubt about it, the writers for Yahoo Shine know how to rope in a reader. The teaser under the headshot of an attractive young woman was something like: “What’s different about this mannequin?” Oh, so it was a mannequin. I clicked on the pic. 

            I thought the article would be about how a certain H&M store in Sweden is using lifelike robots as mannequins. I was wrong. What’s causing all the buzz—or what has “gone viral” or “set tongues wagging”—is that the mannequins are a lifelike Size 12. In addition to “sparking an internet praise-a-thon,” the use of these mannequins has raised a criticism: “Will this just encourage obesity?”

            I’ll have to say, this particular question was not what first popped into my mind for many reasons. First, Lane Bryant has used “plus-sized,” “full-figured,” or my favorite Precious Ramwotse euphism “traditionally-built” mannequins for years. The concept is not new. I guess what makes these mannequins so special is that they’re being used in a more mainstream venue—a store that caters to the youthful and “hip”—as opposed to the old and hippy. Second, I don’t consider a Size 12 to be obese. A little overweight, maybe, but not to the point of being unhealthy. And when the average size of women these days is a 14—as the article states—a Size 12 could actually be considered the “new small,” couldn’t it? Anyway, that’s the reasoning I’m going with.

            So while the obesity question didn’t occur to me, here are some that did:

·         What’s with the Princess Leia hairdo? I’m so hoping this isn’t a fashion forecast. But maybe because this store is in Sweden, the Viking-opera-singer look works.

·         Why the socks? Are the mannequin’s feet cold, but not her bare legs and midriff? Has she just smeared Vaseline on her heels and doesn't want to get the platform greasy? Are slouchy, stretched-out socks the latest in sexy boudoir attire? If so, I’ve been sexy all this past winter and didn’t even realize it. I don’t think my husband did, either.

·         If this model is supposed to be so lifelike, where’re the muffin tops? I know they claim to make panties that don’t create these, but I’ve yet to find any that follow through on this promise and still stay up without a belt or suspenders.

·         Along this same line, where are the wobbly bits? If we’re truly going for lifelike here, let’s show a little cottage cheese.

·         Why the shawl? Actually, I know the answer to this—to hide the wing-dings. The only time I’ve bared my upper arms in public in the past few years was to go swimming. And I wouldn’t have done it then if they made swimsuits with sleeves.

            Maybe you can answer some of these questions for me. Or maybe you have questions of your own. Or maybe you just don’t give a rip about what marketers tell women they should look like and you’re happy with yourself whatever size you wear. Please comment!

PS If you know where I can find those magic no-muffin-top panties, I'd really love to hear from you!