Skirts, the simplest but clearest gesture of femininity, the unique piece that reflects elegance, modesty, rebellion and tradition all at once.
Every skirt carries history, and more than that, it carries a personal story. We don’t realise its importance anymore, and that’s good. It means that the fight of other women, in other times, and in present times, to get to use it, at the length they want, at the colour they want, is working.
But we should not forget that small details such as the length of the skirt were a big deal that implied the lack of freedom for women along history. Its size, length and colour were a clear indication of the level of sensuality we were allowed to have. Sadly, there are women out there, now, who still have to follow the same rules as we did decades ago.
Even as the skirt has been a weapon of control, it has also been a weapon for rebellion and independence. The 60s were the years of the mini skirt, the years of letting everybody know of our strengths and big dreams of equality and not even the following years with the come back of the midi skirt and maxi dresses who meant to cover our legs again, erased the feeling of freedom that was already out.
Why is the skirt so important to all of us? Why has it lasted for so long in our minds? In our cultures? In our lives?
Because no other piece of clothing makes us feel as feminine as the skirt. Every woman has been made for a skirt and every skirt has been made for a woman. Every one of us is looking for the perfect balance between taste, confidence and beauty and it is precisely the skirt what gives us what we are looking for.
Who doesn’t want to feel de satisfaction of being perfectly dressed and who can deny that in most of the cases it is the skirt who can give us that satisfaction? The point is to find the perfect shape for our bodies, the right colour for our skin and mood, the more comfortable option for our way of life and the most flattering way of being ourselves.
The belief that we are so many women in this world, so different from one another, so separate, so disconnected, looses its truthfulness when we look inside ourselves. Are we really that different? If in our simplest feminine choices of every day we are exactly the same, we crave the same, we love the same.