Book Review: The Art of Being a Woman by Veronique Vienne

Sometimes I wish that I lived in the past, when everyone instinctively knew the prevailing social codes and considered good manners the hallmark of a civilized person. People dressed well for church, travel, school, even for trips to the grocery store. The idea was that one must never look sloppy or unkempt in public, for it was not only poor manners but also an inconsideration to the people around you. It’s a charming and kind tradition that still prevails in much of the world, including Japan and Europe, but it’s sadly gone out of favor here in America, where pajamas and fuzzy slippers are considered appropriate attire at the airport, and running errands with one’s hair still in curlers is regarded as proper public behavior. At my wedding one of my dear friends — who shall remain nameless — showed up in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, while at a recent graduation ceremony I attended I saw several older men (who really should have known better) sporting Bermuda shorts and black socks.

Black. Socks.

Of course, on the other hand, looking back at how women were treated in previous eras and epochs — as chattel, slaves, second-class citizens, beasts of burden — I realize just how incredibly lucky I am to live now, in 2009, a child of the 1970′s, a teenager in the 1980′s, a young adult in the 1990′s, and an American.

Now, women can vote; run for office; make lots of money; run for President; rise up the ranks to become president of a company; start her own company; create art; write great books; drive cars; ride bikes; hike; backpack; play sports; not have children; adopt children on their own; chase after men; take on numerous lovers; marry whom they wish; keep their own name; happily admit to hating housework; be friends with an ex; wear jeans (or pants of any kind); wear glasses; wear makeup (or not!); love books; think; feel; love; cry; laugh out loud; live.

One hundred years ago women around the world could do almost none of those. Fifty years ago many of these activities remained off-limits to women even in this country. Now, we can do any of these. And more. Much more.

Veronique Vienne, the greatest champion of womanhood and femininity in the modern era, reminds us in The Art of Being a Woman: A Simple Guide to Everyday Love and Laughterthat the amazing progress of women need not preclude us from indulging in the joys of being a woman. Vienne doesn’t discount progress at all; she does write a few pages about the downside of all this so-called “progress” that is supposedly the legacy of Western civilization, but she’s referring largely to technological advances that she suspects has done little to improve our quality of life. (I beg to differ with Vienne on this part, as I do think that technology can actually be credited with much of the freedom women enjoy today, but that’s beside the point.)

Vienne does, however, want women to celebrate what is classic and timeless about womanhood: not dieting or “self-improvement” or “makeovers” or whatever exercise in self-loathing that is de rigueur among women today. Instead, there’s glorious self-acceptance; plenty of good, sweaty, lusty sex; the delights of falling in love; the comforts of friendship with other women; the definition of real beauty; the sybaritic appeal of real food, especially chocolate and wine; and the many, many benefits of shopping.

Vienne, a native Parisian who now lives in America, writes with both delicacy and the joie de vivre she advocates. Her metaphors burst off the page and envelopes the reader in a sensuous embrace; she’s both subtle and forthright, her eyes locked on the singular goal of seducing the harried, multitasking modern American woman into dropping that Lean Cuisine frozen tray into the trash can and reaching for a china plate of foie gras, lamb and fresh vegetables instead. Vienne intuits the American woman’s desire to do it all, but she gently, lyrically reminds the latter that sometimes simply being, not doing, can be the source of life’s greatest and most satisfying moments.

Not that Vienne is short on practical advice. Indeed, the chapters on entertaining, fashion, shopping, and dieting offer numerous tips on how to live a harmonious, joyous life. Admittedly, some of her essays stretch the imagination a wee bit too far — in light of the current economic crisis, her entire chapter on shopping needs to be read with a cool, pragmatic eye — and occasionally her analogies fall flat, as when she tries to elevate housecleaning into an orgasmic experience. I do think that housekeeping needn’t be such a drudge. After all, since it has to be done anyway, why not try to make the best of it, say, by putting on a dance CD on the stereo and dusting to its infectious beat? Vienne’s attempts at turning the chore into a sacred ritual, however, lends housekeeping far more glamour than it deserves. As many, many wise folks have said over the years, there is no glory in housework.

Still, Vienne hits the mark more often than not. I love her chapter on makeovers (“Love your body — and Frenchmen will love you,” and “In my hometown [Paris], beauty is not a physical quality but a joyful phenomenon at the intersection of mind and matter, thoughts and flesh, firing neurons and watery cells.”) as well as that on self-improvement (“Imagine putting your feet up on your desk, leaning back, crossing your hands behind your neck, and deciding once and for all to stop agonizing over the fact that the world is going to hell in a handbasket.”). In a bookstore stuffed to the rafters of books telling women how to lose weight, dress for success, create the perfect home, plan the perfect wedding, land that perfect job, and raise perfect children, it’s refreshing to find a book that reassures women that, well, life ain’t all that bad. that you don’t have to singlehandedly save the world — or the whales, for that matter — or make a donation to the kid who shows up at your door or even climb the corporate ladder in order to feel one’s worth. That being just plain You – even (or perhaps especially!) if you lean towards the lazy, unproductive, unambitious, disorganized, and fleshy (hello, me!) — can be the most empowering act a woman can perform.

The Art of Being a Woman: A Simple Guide to Everyday Love and Laughter

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