![[Cartoon text: “Some people ask me why I stopped shaving. It’s not for a feminist reason so you can get that out of your head. I followed a lot of blogs about hair. I started questioning shaving. I thought I’d stop for a while and see how I felt about it. (fuzzy legs!) Knute said that it’s cute, ‘I’m gonna play in your armpit hair.’ Even my friends stopped shaving, ‘We have something to show you!’ I like not shaving! Makes me feel like an adult! Makes me feel like a human. So I guess I stopped shaving because… I wanted to.”]
For me it has a lot to do with resentment at being used as a capitalist pawn.
According to Hope, the underarm campaign began in May, 1915, in Harper’s Bazaar, a magazine aimed at the upper crust. The first ad “featured a waist-up photograph of a young woman who appears to be dressed in a slip with a toga-like outfit covering one shoulder. Her arms are arched over her head revealing perfectly clear armpits. The first part of the ad read ‘Summer Dress and Modern Dancing combine to make necessary the removal of objectionable hair.’”
Within three months, Cook tells us, the once-shocking term “underarm” was being used. A few ads mentioned hygiene as a motive for getting rid of hair, but most appealed strictly to the ancient yearning to be hip. “The Woman of Fashion says the underarm must be as smooth as the face,” read a typical pitch.
The budding obsession with underarm hair drifted down to the proles fairly slowly, roughly matching the widening popularity of sheer and sleeveless dresses. Antiarm hair ads began appearing in middlebrow McCall’s in 1917. Women’s razors and depilatories didn’t show up in the Sears Roebuck catalog until 1922, the same year the company began offering dresses with sheer sleeves. By then the underarm battle was largely won. Advertisers no longer felt compelled to explain the need for their products but could concentrate simply on distinguishing themselves from their competitors.
The anti-leg hair campaign was more fitful. The volume of leg ads never reached the proportions of the underarm campaign. Women were apparently more ambivalent about calling attention to the lower half of their anatomy, perhaps out of fear that doing so would give the male of the species ideas in a way that naked underarms didn’t.
Besides, there wasn’t much practical need for shaved legs. After rising in the 1920s, hemlines dropped in the 30s and many women were content to leave their leg hair alone. Still, some advertisers as well as an increasing number of fashion and beauty writers harped on the idea that female leg hair was a curse.
Though Hope doesn’t say so, what may have put the issue over the top was the famous WWII pinup of Betty Grable displaying her awesome gams. Showing off one’s legs became a patriotic act. That plus shorter skirts and sheer stockings, which looked dorky with leg hair beneath, made the anti-hair pitch an easy sell.
(via The Straight Dope: Who decided women should shave their legs and underarms?)](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ltcpu1KSeU1r1nc2wo1_1280.png)
[Cartoon text: “Some people ask me why I stopped shaving. It’s not for a feminist reason so you can get that out of your head. I followed a lot of blogs about hair. I started questioning shaving. I thought I’d stop for a while and see how I felt about it. (fuzzy legs!) Knute said that it’s cute, ‘I’m gonna play in your armpit hair.’ Even my friends stopped shaving, ‘We have something to show you!’ I like not shaving! Makes me feel like an adult! Makes me feel like a human. So I guess I stopped shaving because… I wanted to.”]
For me it has a lot to do with resentment at being used as a capitalist pawn.
According to Hope, the underarm campaign began in May, 1915, in Harper’s Bazaar, a magazine aimed at the upper crust. The first ad “featured a waist-up photograph of a young woman who appears to be dressed in a slip with a toga-like outfit covering one shoulder. Her arms are arched over her head revealing perfectly clear armpits. The first part of the ad read ‘Summer Dress and Modern Dancing combine to make necessary the removal of objectionable hair.’”
Within three months, Cook tells us, the once-shocking term “underarm” was being used. A few ads mentioned hygiene as a motive for getting rid of hair, but most appealed strictly to the ancient yearning to be hip. “The Woman of Fashion says the underarm must be as smooth as the face,” read a typical pitch.
The budding obsession with underarm hair drifted down to the proles fairly slowly, roughly matching the widening popularity of sheer and sleeveless dresses. Antiarm hair ads began appearing in middlebrow McCall’s in 1917. Women’s razors and depilatories didn’t show up in the Sears Roebuck catalog until 1922, the same year the company began offering dresses with sheer sleeves. By then the underarm battle was largely won. Advertisers no longer felt compelled to explain the need for their products but could concentrate simply on distinguishing themselves from their competitors.
The anti-leg hair campaign was more fitful. The volume of leg ads never reached the proportions of the underarm campaign. Women were apparently more ambivalent about calling attention to the lower half of their anatomy, perhaps out of fear that doing so would give the male of the species ideas in a way that naked underarms didn’t.
Besides, there wasn’t much practical need for shaved legs. After rising in the 1920s, hemlines dropped in the 30s and many women were content to leave their leg hair alone. Still, some advertisers as well as an increasing number of fashion and beauty writers harped on the idea that female leg hair was a curse.
Though Hope doesn’t say so, what may have put the issue over the top was the famous WWII pinup of Betty Grable displaying her awesome gams. Showing off one’s legs became a patriotic act. That plus shorter skirts and sheer stockings, which looked dorky with leg hair beneath, made the anti-hair pitch an easy sell.
(via The Straight Dope: Who decided women should shave their legs and underarms?)
(Source: unpeupoussiereux, via sexgenderbody)
