Some people watch because of the actual awards. Some watch because of the celebrities or the host. Some tune in for the red carpet fashion parade.
I watch for sleeves.
Yes, sleeves — that portion of a garment that covers your arms. I watch for sleeves because I am obsessed with finding formal wear for the galas we attend that will cover my arms and still make me look drop dead gorgeous. If a dress could make me look 6 inches taller and a bit like Angelina Jolie, so much the better, but I would settle for, “That sleeved gown makes her look 20 years younger!”
Decent frocks in this category are few and far between. Most fall into the “mother of the bride” category — you know those ones with shorty jackets and glittery trim that you see at Macy’s in that kind of Grandma Blue color. (These dresses always remind me of my Grannie — Dad’s mother — an ample Scottish lady who always wore an ultramarine blue dress with ¾ sleeves and bejeweled brooches that pinched in the gathered shoulders making her bosom appear absolutely titanic.) There must be demand for these dresses because they show up year after year. Why? Because we need sleeves!
The common rule of thumb in polite society is that women of a certain age should not bare their upper arms. We in the menopause set all too easily comply with this social convention. Mind you, I know women here in Dayton, who are my age that have great, sculpted Michelle Obama/Kate Middleton arms. These Dayton gals wear fabulous gowns to the aforementioned galas. Their arms are envy-worthy and I say, “If you got ‘em, bare ‘em!”
I’m not one of them. I haven’t gone sleeveless since the Reagan administration.
Normally, you see the “more mature” actresses at awards shows wearing sleeves; women like Angela Lansbury, Helen Mirren, Dame Judi Dench, and Meryl Streep. Still glamorous, still in beautiful gowns, but sensibly, modestly covered up. Jane Fonda must have killer arms with all those workouts she does, but even she had ¾-length sleeves at the Golden Globes this week. Then I noticed a handful of young, skinny actresses sashaying the red carpet in sleeved gowns. Dare I hope for a fashion trend?
My trainer is hell-bound to shape up my arms. I have been doing bicep curls, shoulder presses and tricep extensions for over a year now and I still have soggy, floppy arms. I’m not sure when the exercises are going to kick in. So, in the meantime, I’m searching for a good sleeve – one that makes me look drop dead sexy like one of my favorite mature actresses.
Or at least let me find a dress that doesn’t make me look like Grannie Malcolm at a Scottish country dance party.
Either that or I will start a movement to liberate our aging arms from the confines of sleeves. Who’s with me? (Ooo, stop waving like that, dear, your arms are flapping.)
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