Last night, Olivia Wilde took to the red carpet in London’s Leicester Square wearing a stunning Gucci suit at the Rush world premiere, in which she starred with Chris Hemsworth. The outfit looked absolutely fantastic on her: it was tailored perfectly and accessorized so sparingly that, despite being a plain black tuxedo with satin lapels, it managed to be exciting, fun and sleek. I personally loved the style the moment I saw it and immediately began wishing I could wear something similar.
And then I remembered that I have giant f’ing boobs — a quality Olivia Wilde and I do not share.
Now, the concept of “pulling off” a look is a little silly to me, in general. I mean, who decides who pulls anything off? But at the same time, nobody enjoys that feeling of wondering who’s saying “she shouldn’t be wearing that” because no matter how much we (i.e. me) may give the finger to bodysnarking, it still hurts like crazy when another person(s) gives you that look of harsh disapproval.
I know a lot of you aren’t in the low-cut, sideboob-loving crowd like myself, but I think it is still pretty clear to most folks that having larger breasts sentences you to this bizarre standard where revealing the fact that you even have breasts whatsoever is viewed as “inappropriate.” Girls have been turned away from prom because of it. Women are called whores for showing any cleavage. Last Halloween, I had to wear an extra piece of clothing over my Halloween costume despite having fabric over my breasts (like this) and going with a friend who was wearing a plaid bikini top because the bouncer said my cleavage would “invite too much attention.” It’s not just about bodysnarking when it comes to boobs; it’s about an unwanted fetishization paired with good ol’ slut-shaming.
I would love (love) to wear a tuxedo like Olivia Wilde’s, but I know my DDDs would get pushed up to my chin and people would think I looked ridiculous — like I couldn’t “pull it off.” Then again, should I even bother caring? Even if the fashion world has declared the oh-so-chic and artistic idea of “fashion tits” to include exclusively the small ones (which, as Jamie noted in that post, is arbitrary), I think that to avoid clothes I love simply because I feel obligated to follow certain “rules” would be a disservice to my likes, dislikes and overall sense of style.
Conclusion: I am going to try the low-cut tuxedo look someday. There will be cleavage. There will be bounce. And, in all likelihood, there will be a raised eyebrow or two, but I just have to remember the most important lesson when you’re afraid of being judged: nobody you don’t know cares about you, including you appearance. Like, at all.
Now, I just need to find somewhere it will be remotely appropriate and not totally overdoing it to wear an extremely low-cut tuxedo with high heels, all while resisting the urge to just wear a prom dress. Anybody wanna invite me to a gala? Anyone? Bueller?
Oh, and as a side note, just look at how gorgeous her hair and makeup were. Good gracious.
Photos: Getty Images.