Suck it, Maxim

I am a vain woman. I color my hair, I spend the GNP of New Guinea a fair amount on skincare products, and I am unashamed to admit that I regularly whiten my teeth at home. Oh, and I have never been a fan of flats unless they are ballet flats and only if they are paired with a pair of dark capris. Because that's what Audrey Hepburn did.

But. But. I don't dress for men. With a brief and shameful exception in the early nineties (think oversized shoulder-padded blazer with a white lace bustier underneath. Gah, the shame), I never have. One of my favorite pieces is a long tapestry jacket with a velvet sash that my husband swears I ripped off of some window treatment display in a Scarlett O'Hara-like frenzy. Women compliment me every time I wear it. I love turtle necks and wide-legged trousers, and I rarely show much skin. I could care less if a man likes my outfit, but I'm thrilled when a girlfriend tells me how sharp I look.

I think that's why I've always loved Sarah Jessica Parker. Don't think of her crazy Sex and the City ensembles, think of her off-screen in her amazing couture, or simple t-shirts, jeans, and Christian LeBoutin pumps. She knows how to dress, that lady. She had me at Square Pegs, and watching her blossom over the years has been a real treat. She reminds us that you really can go from awkward to beautiful with the passage of time, and she panders not to the misogynistic whims of the testosterone club. Most women think she is fabulous. Dare I say, a lot of people think she is fabulous.

Unless you're some rat-fuck frat-boy writer at Maxim Magazine. That rag gives me the hives as it is. It is such a pathetic cliche of fast cars, fake-boobed bimbos and stereo system recommendations that I usually don't even give it a passing thought. Until today, when I read this article. What the hell is wrong with this world that we are now creating mean lists not unlike some junior high slam book? What the hell, people???

Clearly, smart women like Sandra Oh, Madonna, and Sarah Jessica are not going to be lumped in with the vapid, homogeneous starlets that provide masturbatory fodder for every pimple faced boy and neanderthal stock broker with a lock on the bathroom door and a bottle of Jergens. But to go and make a list of the world's most unsexy women? That is not just pathetic, cruel, and sad. It's an indictment on where we are headed as a culture.

Really, we better turn this train around or we are going to be the weakest, most materialistic, shallow country in the world. And it's going to cost us dearly.