When you see a magazine cover like this, I can probably guess what you’re thinking: Who the f^(k carries a briefcase like that or wears dark stockings any more? What year is it, anyway? Jeezy Creezy. I spent the past week with historians, and they’re all better dressed than this mother-baby combo. Don’t you have any women at The Atlantic who have updated their wardrobes since 1992? (Don’t answer that, Mr. Bennet: I think I know the answer.) I saw this magazine on the newsstand a few hours ago and tonstant Feminist (to borrow a Dorothy Parker phrase) just about fwowed up.
Just kidding. As we all know, declaring feminism irrelevant and pointless while also blaming it for everything wrong about the last 50 years is always in style! (It’s the Little Black Dress of long form journalism.) More here from Echidne, Rebecca Traister, and Jessica Valenti, whose post “Sad white babies with mean feminist mommies” is indeed a classic.
I’ve been wondering what year it is anyway, stuck as I am in the Burbank-Bob Hope Airport waiting for my flight home and pondering the sound track, which appears to be the New Wave channel on satellite radio. (Srsly–the playlist has been strange but pretty good: English Beat, Blondie, J. Geils Band, the Romantics, Joe Jackson, Thomas Dolby, etc. I mean, if you have to listen to Top 10 radio, why not make it the Top 10 of 1983?)
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