Dare I Ask, What Are Party Clothes?
Okay, to start out with: I used to be in an abusive relationship. For all I know, this could be another one. Nevertheless, as we say in the South, even a blind pig turns up an acorn now and then. The boyfriend is right to be concerned. If the writer thinks that “stigma” is the only thing out there women have to contend against, she needs to get out more. And I do not mean to nightclubs. But I just wanted to add a thought: girls these days (and I speak as the mother of two daughters) wear quite revealing clothes as a matter of course. Bare midriffs at midday are the norm. Girls bend over in their low-rise jeans and the tip of a butt-crack emerges. If “party clothes” are slightly more revealing than that, and I would suppose that they are, then we’re talking major flesh display. Take that display out at night in public, at a time when the men out and about are not likely to be the staid married types (who are home putting the kids to bed), and you have the visual equivalent of asserting
