After yesterday’s post about niqabs, I thought of something. Indulge me while I play devil’s advocate.
Stan Rogal, poet extraordinaire, once wrote a story about a character who preferred his women in long flannel nightgowns (I’d quote it, but I can’t for the life of me seem to find the story). Granny nighties left more to the imagination, and the temptation to discover what was hidden was more intriguing than having it all arrayed like a produce aisle.
A long time ago, I used to – have since outgrown it – get dressed up on weekends and pretend I was from the 1300’s. Welsh women in the 1300’s didn’t show their hair, and everything else was covered because Wales is rather inclement: my face and my fingers showed, nothing more.
As with Rogal’s character, people were made curious by this.
So, here are all these women hanging about a culture where bodies are naturally bared, and there’s likely to be more than one or two people who are rabidly turned on by body-covering outfits.
Is it modest to show your eyes, finger tips and elegantly sandalled feet if you know there are people who are turned on by this?