No one is saying anything. It's as if this pink, pouffy, tulle-tastic monstrosity is not adorning my waist. Do you not see me? Or are you pretending not to see me so you can avoid saying hello you passive-aggressive, Pacific Northwestern, son-of-a-bitch?!
I have been skiing in a tutu at least once a month for the past seven years, and I am sad to report that the instant icebreaker has officially lost its magical power. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, or why, but over the past half-decade the frequency at which I walk by someone who doesn't even say 'hello' has increased dramatically. Gone are the trips of yesteryear where I enjoyed frequent, near-constant on trail chats. Now I'm lucky if 10% of my fellow travelers say hi. I'm just any other hiker with a teepee of skis on her back.
Discussing this phenomenon with my friends, we ventured three theories as to why people ignore the tutu:
Tutus are overdone
Thanks to groups like SheJumps and companies like Sparkle Athletic, tutus are everywhere. They're part of half-marathons, group mountain bike rides, and mid-mountain cocktail hours. If you go on an adventure these days, you are 39% more likely to see a tutu than you were 5 years ago. Women wear them. Men wear them. Dogs and babies wear them, and even a few discerning cats have been spotted en tulle. As a result, they're not all that special anymore, and people pass them by without remark. They are unremarkable.
People are self-absorbed and summit-oriented
A recent survey published by The Seattle Times showed that "the number of hikers [in Seattle] is seven times greater than our population growth over the past decade." Since we're all out there to HYOH - Hike Your Own Hike - people are on a mission when they're on the trail, a mission, it would seem, to get to the summit at all costs. If you happen to be walking by, tutu or no, you are just another obstacle in the way of future Instagram fame. Or something like that. All this thinking about other people is exhausting to be honest, and I'd prefer to focus on my own issues.
Cell phones have rendered us incapable of human interaction
Technology was not a part of my childhood, but my niece turns twelve this summer and she will never know what it means to take a picture without being able to see it immediately. On a trip to Seattle last year, we walked by a phone booth and she asked what it was.... Technology has quickly and dramatically changed the way we view and interact with other humans. It's also changing our evolution, with the invention of the term Tech Neck (among other cell-phone induced maladies). We have all of the knowledge in the world at our fingertips, and yet the art of connection and conversation is dying (dead?). Instead of saying hello, we make a mental note to text all of our friends about the weirdo we saw on the trail, or better yet we send a quick Snap and continue on our merry way. We'd rather have a million un-meaningful communications than one genuine interaction.
Maybe one of these theories is right, or maybe they are all true. Regardless of the reasoning, the power of the tutu has passed. I mean, I'll probably still wear one on the trail because reasons, but I have to be honest, it's just not the same as it used to be.
So what say you, people of blog-land? Is the tutu dead?
Maybe one of these theories is right, or maybe they are all true. Regardless of the reasoning, the power of the tutu has passed. I mean, I'll probably still wear one on the trail because reasons, but I have to be honest, it's just not the same as it used to be.
So what say you, people of blog-land? Is the tutu dead?
I think the normalizing of the once radical tutu is a sign of fantastic progress, the tutu represented an unapologetic and silly feminist thrust into the outdoors, it forced recognition and space for lady crushers and now everyone seems to have increased their acceptance of the idea that femininity, playfulness and slaying outdoor pursuits are synonymous.
ReplyDeleteOr maybe that's giving the Tutu too much credit?
Perhaps the increase of drolls on the trail is just a symptom of newbs who take themselves entirely too seriously and haven't gotten hip to the fact that the only way to perservere through years of the soggy sloppy trail is to embrace the ridiculousness of the arbitrary pursuit of high places.
But most likely is that these new additions to the PNW trail population are still having a hard time adjusting to the lower levels of Vitamin D and really should don some Vitamin Tulle instead of being tools, it'd cure what ales them.