Contrary to popular opinion, you don’t have to have read The Second Sex and drink your own menstrual blood to call yourself a feminist. You don’t even have to pay monthly for a membership! So why are smart people running away screaming from the ‘F’ word? Could it simply be that they feel alienated from the cause?

I’ve always felt cosily at home in the world of feminism. It’s nice to yell ‘Down with the patriarchy!’ after a few glasses of wine, but I have encountered people who make me feel like I don’t deserve to indulge in such behaviour. They jump on me when I’m baking a cake, yelling ‘SO YOU DO LOVE BEING IN THE KITCHEN!’  They steal my pink frilly knickers and then wave them in front of my face, screeching ‘THESE DON’T LOOK LIKE FEMINIST KNICKERS!’ There are only so many times that you can chase these intruders out of your home before you start wondering if they have a point.

One day, when someone suggested that my love for clothes was ‘unfeminist’, I panicked. I needed to make a choice, and that choice would have to be the sisterhood. So I burnt all my gorgeous dresses, (I didn’t want impressionable young feminists picking them up from a charity shop), and set about making an appropriate feminist outfit.  The hemp sack was a little itchy, but I did enjoy my home-made ginger moustache, which was constructed out of my cat’s fur-balls.  As I twiddled it meditatively, I thought about the clash between feminism and fashion.

Image courtesy of The Fawcett Society

Over the past year, I have heard that the following items oppress women: hijabs, G-strings, high heels, push-up bras, corsets, skirts, veils, wax-strips, foundation, perfume, spanx. I’m guessing that you own and love at least one of these items, and if you think that means you can’t be a feminist, then that makes me angry.

I may love clothes, but that doesn’t mean I agree with even half the stuff going on in the fashion industry. I don’t, for example, think that stilettos that contort feet into orgasmic arches are empowering. I also worry about bras nowadays- why do they try and make our boobs something they’re not? We wouldn’t take that bullshit from our boyfriends, so why do we submit so easily to our underwear? And don’t get me started on the size of catwalk models… I could probably eat one for lunch.

But how can we be expected to change these things unless we take an active interest in them? Instead of denouncing the entire fashion industry, we could just think of ways to make it more female friendly. There is no Mother Matriarchy who makes up the rules (although Germaine Greer did put an application in for the job). Feminists are allowed to disagree about stuff, so please stop dangling your bra over that open fire. I’m not going to ask you to choose between your online shopping addiction and your values. That’s not a choice that any feminist should be forced to make.

Written by Phoebe Eccles