Chauvinism is not dead

I got dressed up last night, & went out for supper last night with a group of girls. At the bar I bumped into a lovely & charming man I know, drinking with some people I had met on New York’s social circuit whilst out and about for my old job as fashion director on a fairly serious magazine. We chatted for a bit whilst we worked out our connections before I went to join my table for dinner.

After the meal, I went over to the bar to say goodnight, and two of my (very beautiful) girlfriends joined me on their way out. As we made light conversation, one of the (older) businessmen whom I had met before looked at all three of us standing in a row, and made a comment about the collection of breasts on show in front of him.

For a minute I thought I’d misheard, and asked him to repeat what he’d said. I stared at him in disbelief.

I was furious. We are three women in our thirties, all of us serious businesswomen, highly successful in our chosen fields (one manages a team of creatives, one is responsible for millions of dollars every day), and this was all this man could find to say to us.

I almost never wear low cut outfits, as I am generously endowed and a little embarrassed about it. But last night I thought, don’t be silly, you are who you are, wear that pretty DvF dress. Well, I was right. According to some men the sum of all that I am can be reduced to my breast size.