By Kathryn Kroeker | Contributor
It's after hours at the mall. The store is dark; the only light is from the neon exit sign. Fabric rustles. In the baby corner, a fuzzy pink onesie shifts nervously. Across the aisle, designer heels shuffle farther into their boxes. You could cut the tension with a knife.
Silence falls as the store holds its breath-then the sound of clashing hangers fills the air.
It's the boys' section vs. the girls' section.
Fortunately for retailers everywhere, this scenario is purely fictional. Because if it weren't, I'm afraid the men's section would massacre the women's. Clothing inequality is a thing, friends. It rears its sparkly pink head in stores everywhere. Whether you go by color or just general sturdiness, there exists a serious gap between men's and women's clothes.
First off: the color thing. Personally, I prefer not to deck myself out in pastel shades or glittering pink. I know I can't be the only one, so why is it so hard to find women's clothing in "non-girly" colors? When did the men get exclusive rights to dark blue or forest green? And is it possible to contest that ruling?
The most striking example of color inequality I've experienced happened during a quest for formal wear. I wasn't looking for anything special-just some slacks and a nice top for a conference. What I found was a collection of shapeless, neutral-toned shirts that practically blended into the wall.
Now, I might have thought that was just how professional clothing looked, except that the men's section sported shirts in all colors of the rainbow! Why can men wear beautiful turquoise shirts to work, while I'm expected to show up in an off-white potato sack?
It is for this reason I often end up shopping in the men's department. Delicate yellow polos and pink Batman T-shirts just aren't my style. I'd much rather claim that blue-striped shirt from (you guessed it) the men's section.
Secondly, there's the sturdiness of women's clothes-or rather, the lack thereof.
I get that women are supposed to be delicate and all, but is this really a good idea? I've picked up shirts I'm afraid my finger will go through if I move suddenly. I can only assume that we're expected to layer-that way, hopefully the inevitable rip won't make it through the sheer mass of fabric.
We women have to be constantly aware of our clothing so we avoid damaging it. An ill-advised action could easily result in a wrinkle, tear, or the dreaded hole. (And good luck trying to patch something that flimsy.)
This is why I truly envy men. They don't have to worry about putting a permanent crease in their shirt if they sit funny. One of the nicest shirts I own is a plaid button-down from the men's half of American Eagle. I'd have to seriously try to put a rip in that thing.
So there you have it, friends-the greatest unfought war in retail history. It seems our only option is to raid the enemy section for colorful, sturdy clothing. However, a word of caution as you take your spoils home: be sure to store your girly garments safely away. Otherwise you may return to a pile of twisted hangers and tattered pink fabric come morning.
