CC: I was never a feminist because I was never ugly enough for that.
Did your jaw just drop in disbelief? Mine did, too.
So, according to Karl-as-Coco, feminists are ugly. And it’s not just that they’re unattractive—it’s their very lack of pulchritude that made them resort to feminism. What constitutes “ugly enough”? Who knows? When I decided to call myself a feminist, it’s not like I was forced to parade around in a bathing suit before a panel of judges who determined whether I was unappealing enough to do so.
In Monsieur Lagerfeld’s Magical Gender Equity Utopia, beautiful women apparently have no need for feminism. Which is an awesome fantasy for genetic-lottery winners, but I’d rather live in a world where my worth isn’t directly proportionate to how closely I conform to whatever happens to be in style this week. I know, I must be ugly and insane!
Other than being a blatant insult to feminists, Lagerfeld’s attitude is troubling because it forces women into a game we can’t win. Within this rubric, a gorgeous woman’s sole quality is her appearance; and an average woman’s intelligence or insight is nullified by her embrace of feminism.
The end result: our only worth is the way we look. How’s that for ugly?