Tennis: always in fashion
I grew up playing a fair game of tennis on the public courts of New York. Just to show you how long ago that was, the courts were made of reddish clay that had to be rolled after the games (an implement was kept in the corner for this very purpose), and the rule was that you had to wear all white. And it was enforced.
Those days are most definitely gone, as are the days when my mother used to stop me from going out of the house wearing jeans because they looked too slovenly. And yet that last bastion of tennis whites, Wimbledon, retains its rules.
Just as form in poetry can engender creative ways to work within its confines, so the Wimbledon dress code paradoxically promotes fashion flair. That was evident long ago when, for example, Gussy Moran (that’s a woman, not a man: real name Gertrude) shocked the tennis world by flaunting ruffles on her outer underpants (or knickers, as they were called at the time).
Gussy was nicknamed (hmmm-is that a pun?) “Gorgeous Gussie,” and here she is in the garments in question, which caused such a furor that photographers fought each other for a spot on the ground the better to get the proper (or improper?) angle for photos:
Seems rather sedate nowadays even for Wimbledon, but in Gussie’s day—1949—those were real shockers.
The only way to shock these days would be to play in the nude, and I’m not even sure about that. But generating a bit of a buzz is easier. It helps that tennis players tend to be taller and more slender than ever; the aptly named Maria Sharapova (shapely, sharp) is a case in point, and she knows it.
Apparently Sharapova plans ahead and test-drives her outfits with great care, trying them out for months in private to see if they are courtworthy before their official unveiling. And, just like design trendsetters everywhere, she’s got her fall 2009 line all planned.
For those of you who’ve been on planet Mars recently and haven’t seen her Wimbledon outfit (she’s been eliminated already, by the way), here it is:
This is the one I prefer, a halter top sported by Venus Williams. I had one very much like it back in the 70s, and I always felt especially fabulous when I wore it:
Sister Serena, on the other hand, seems prepared for something other than tennis. A game of spy vs. spy, perhaps?
I don’t want to stint the men, although fashion does. But here’s Roger Federer in a classic retro look:
I enjoy Serena and Venus and Marina’s efforts at fashion. Sometimes they hit, sometimes they miss, yet their efforts are interesting and full of life.
The first time I saw Sharapova at Wimbledon, her dress was silly and innappropriate. When she moved, her unsupported bosom flopped more than any woman would want. At rest, the flimsy material created a nipple-fest. link Now, a nipple is only a nipple. Yet her dress simply did not serve her well. It was kind of fun to watch the classic situation of a headstrong youth, pushing boundaries, at Wimbledon of all places. However, I didn’t enjoy the speculation that Nike was abusing a young, lightly counselled girl in order to create publicity for the swoosh.
In later years, Sharapova wore similar Nike dresses which incorporated more sports bra support and slightly less flimsy material into the design. These later dresses were better – and were still able to create the effect of health and beauty which she was going for. The later, similiar Sharapova/Nike dresses hinted at the simple and open health and beauty of Greek Spartan women, for instance.
I have special affection for Serena’s fashion efforts. The girl has admirable chutzpah. You never know, with her, if you will see something which will prompt you to say, with admiration “that is creative”; or, conversely, which will prompt you to cringe for an entire week or more of competition.
Venus and Serena are interesting competitors to watch. They were taught to win in a way which is the greatest source of their strength and also the greatest source of their weakness.
Sometimes, when they look as if they are going to lose, they lose focus. I speculate that they lack a certain perspective which would enable them to fully retain focus during the most trying moments. They sometimes seem so flummoxed by the unacceptable idea of defeat … that it seems they lose focus in ways they need not, and in ways which might prevent them from making possible comebacks.
I find the sisters fascinating. They are great champions. They are, to their great credit, continuing to grow as independent persons. Many female tennis players seem to become stunted in a kind of adolescent brattery. Not the Williams sisters. They continue to grow as unique persons – each with her own individual personality.
Sister Serena, on the other hand, seems prepared for something other than tennis. A game of spy vs. spy, perhaps?
Well, it is in London, and it does rain there. I’d say Serena is exercising some forward thinking and planning.
It all went down the tubes after McEnroe left.
I prefer ice skating, Neo.
You really should have something for the 4th
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDA9NbPAK8o
I’m not interested in tennis, but my Uncle Alf was. I only found this out one day when I expected him to take me to the baseball game. My mother told me he had flown to New York to watch the US Open. “I didn’t even know he liked that sport,” I said to my mother.
“You haven’t been listening,” she told me. “Many’s the time I’ve heard Alfred laud tennis, son.”
I’m quite fond of metaphorical tennis. My favorite team is Winchester United. Pity it was so short-lived; they really did have a good balance going.
Erm, yeah, I realize the chance is next to nothing that anybody on this blog gets that reference, but if it helps, I mean Winchester as in the city in England, my favorite individual player also hails from Winchester, and metaphorical tennis is a surprisingly intellectual pursuit.
Old minor league pitcher Mel Famey, on a hot day, would drink beer between innings. One day he pitched a shut-out until the ninth, at which time he walked in the winning runs. An opponent opined:
“It was the beer that made Mel Famey walk us.”