Amber Tamblyn: Redefining the Red Carpet

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/07/opinion/sunday/amber-tamblyn-golden-globes-metoo.html

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Years ago, I was sitting in a dressing room in Tokyo, across from the director of the film I was about to shoot. The director spoke only Japanese, so we communicated through an interpreter. We talked briefly about how well the camera tests had gone and how excited we were about the project. Then he told me there was something specific he had come to discuss: the issue of my weight. He said the film studio would provide a trainer and a meal plan for me and it would be great if I could lose roughly five pounds before we began shooting.

It took me years to find the humor in being asked to lose such a relatively minimal number of pounds through an interpreter. I was 5 feet 7 inches tall and weighed just 120 pounds. I remember this number precisely because five pounds lighter would make me 115 pounds, which is the number I ended up achieving after I spent two weeks eating only the deli meat off Subway sandwiches and skipping dinners altogether.

Women have always had to carry the burden of molding the shapes and sizes of our bodies to the trends and tastes of others, at any cost. We are assigned a look. We don’t get to choose.

For most actresses on red carpets, what you’re wearing is less an expression of who you are and more an expression of what you’re worth. The very act of getting ready for an award show can be a masochist’s checklist of one’s value: Airbrush your arms so that they look more toned. Check. Get a peel or injection to make sure your face looks flawless. Check. Lose bloat by eating only before 6 p.m. and stop drinking all liquid 24 hours before the big day to send your metabolism into shock. Check. Prepping for award shows can be a weeklong marathon in dread, resulting in a one-time portrayal of improbable beauty.

You’re also often assigned a look that doesn’t reflect who you truly are but reflects what a runway wants you to be. Platform high heels and frilly dresses and a clutch purse made from the skin of dead baby lizards. I’ve spent the better part of my two decades as an actress accumulating more designer high heels than most could ever dream of, only to hit my 30s and realize I hated wearing most of them and always had. Years ago when I was nominated for a Golden Globe for best actress in a television drama, I had a full anxiety attack after the dress fitting, even though I had found a beautiful dress that fit me nicely. I found myself in my car, the air-conditioning on full blast, sobbing into my steering wheel. The anxiety I was feeling wasn’t about the dress itself. It was about the fulfillment of the obligations of the dress.

Not all actresses loathe getting ready for award shows, though. For some, the act of dressing up is a joy that comes quite naturally. For example, one of my best friends is the actress Blake Lively, who has such extraordinary taste in fashion and clothing. I often find myself texting her to get advice on what to wear to an event where I know there will be cameras present. She is always helpful and thoughtful about what will look best on me, a favor I can’t ever seem to do for myself no matter how hard I try. In recent years, I’ve become far more comfortable in my skin and on red carpets, and I’ve had the good fortune of working with stylists such as Karla Welch and Sarah Slutsky who don’t dress a woman’s body as if it’s a tree hungry for ornaments, but rather an individual, unique body with its own sweet purpose and design.

But getting dressed does still involve obligations. We actresses are not just modeling clothing when we walk a red carpet on award show night. We are modeling a kind of behavior. We are speaking in a coded language to other women — even young girls — that says: The way I look and what I wear and how I wear it is the standard for women. What is being worn is not an exception. It is the rule. You must dress a certain way and look a certain way if you want to be valued as a woman, no matter what you do for a living or who you are. We never intend for this to be the message we are sending with what we wear, but often it is the perceived one, whether we like it or not.

I have often wondered what would happen if actresses stood in solidarity with a singular, powerful choice for just one night. What would that even look like? To uniformly reject our lifelong objectification and say: Enough. We belong to no one. We are a canvas for no expression other than the words our voices have chosen to speak.

Tonight, you will see just such an experiment as myself and hundreds of women from the Time’s Up movement will reject colorful gowns for black ones on the Golden Globes’ red carpet and at related events across the country. Wearing black is not all we will be doing. We will be doing away with the old spoken codes in favor of communicating boldly and directly: What we are wearing is not a statement of fashion. It is a statement of action. It is a direct message of resistance. Black because we are powerful when we stand together with all women across industry lines. Black because we’re starting over, resetting the standard. Black because we’re done being silenced and we’re done with the silencers. Tonight is not a mourning. Tonight is an awakening.