Mountain Barbies

Essay by Patty Lataille

Fasion - February 2006 - Colorado Central Magazine - No. 144 - Page 16
Copyright © 2006 by Patty Lataille and Central Colorado Publishing Co. All rights reserved.
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THE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN are back in Wal- Mart. They reappear every year at holiday time and Spring Break here in our small Central Colorado town of Salida. It's an annual migration of the large SUV and flashy jewelry sort, accompanied by increased traffic and revenue (cha- ching!) in our tourism- based, somewhat economically depressed community.

On a recent run through our local big box superstore, I rounded an aisle and stopped -- staring in disbelief and wonder. A stunning supermodel shopping here? Weird. I looked right, then left. Wait -- another one over there. And there's a third -- a little bulgy, but definitely got the hair and fashion thing going on. Then it clicked -- oh, yeah -- it's that time again. The perfectly made- up and manicured Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas beauties have come to Colorado for ski season.

It's not that my local women friends aren't as attractive and just as -- if not more so -- fit than these southern ladies; it's that they aren't quite as "ornamental." I'm not sure what those women look like without being all done up with no big hair going on, but I assume it's less than the drop- dead gorgeous stereotype. I'm used to the natural look, so it's a shock when these outsiders show up so enhanced.

[Patty LaTaille in her Long Island days]

Truth be told, one reason I live in a small, unassuming mountain town is that we don't have the glitter or the glam that fashion and womens' magazines promote. Here, I don't feel the pressure to look a certain way or live up to a predetermined feminine ideal.

As a former Army officer's wife, I've already had to deal with that sorority- type pressure. My former husband, a graduate of West Point, took some issue with my tie- dyes and torn jeans when we lived at Fort Leonard Wood in the backwoods of Missouri. He bought me some "Officer Wife Outfits" to wear, and I remember wearing them once to make him happy. As a peace- promoting hippie chick and veteran of fifty plus Grateful Dead shows, the amazing thing is that I was married to a Republican and military man in the first place. (You can take the deadheads away from the Dead, but you can't make them shave...)

Nowadays, I live comfortably unadorned and furry in Villa Groovy. It was a gesture of true friendship when I shaved my underarms to be in a good friend's wedding party in Denver a few years back -- a voluntary decision. I was all about the fuzz for my own outdoor (second) wedding fest, with my man who gets a haircut twice a year and thinks "natural" is sexy. He's a Colorado native who's familiar with mountain chicks and fuzzy legs.

[Patty LaTaille now]

It used to make me feel inadequate and somewhat uncomfortable to be in the presence of women who are more "appearance conscious" than me. But I was right there with them in the eighties -- with my Lycra, mini- skirts and big hair.

Growing up with the materialism and money of Long Island, I had neither; but damn, I could look hot out at the LI clubs with my girlfriends. As my friend Cathy May (who still looks like a real BarbieTM doll even now -- in the best possible way, of course) said to the guys back then; "Hey, if you don't want to be with me -- well -- it's your funeral."

We were "it on a stick" and knew we had it going on -- dancing on the bar in our skin- tight Lycra leggings and high heels, with our flat midriffs exposed, resplendent in our perms, showy baubles and the synthetic frosting on our faces.

My girlfriends here look at photos of my LI days in disbelief, and then laugh. Strange to think that eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick and gloss, as well as foundation, blush and concealer are all alien substances to me now. Very few of my friends in Salida or Buena Vista even own make up, and now my idea of hairspray is a hat. We are the outdoorsy, athletic types, with easy- to- care- for hair, countenances clear of face paint, nails cut short and functional, into health, fitness, and minimal fuss.

Visitors from the Other Side

"Getting dressed up in Salida is wearing a closed toe shoe," my good friend Brooke from my corporate days at IBM Boulder said on a recent visit here. She and her husband Brian like to switch gears, leave the city behind, and dress down in Crocs, jeans and fleece, while helping me with the barnyard chores. They look forward to honking geese, chicken- chasing, goat- wrestling and long hikes in the sparsely populated and spectacular scenery of the San Luis Valley. "Come as you are" is the area theme, and it's a welcome relief from big city pretenses and caring about appearances all the time.

We live an insulated mountain lifestyle; getting dressed up is a huge deal here. I remember the two or three occasions that I've worn a fancy dress since I moved here eight years ago -- and one was my second wedding. My friends and I spend our days up on Monarch Mountain skiing or snowboarding in the winter or boating on the Arkansas River the rest of the year. Not to mention the daily dog hikes, mountain biking with the girls, building our own homes and whatever it is we do to earn money to support our lifestyles. There's not much time or cash left for pampering or manicures -- and I've reached the point where I find it hard to even put sunscreen on my face. It just feels unnatural -- although necessary.

I know it's a cultural thing. And whenever I travel and go to conferences, I'm always impressed by the attention to detail these southern beauties present. Colorado mountain women (fortunately) aren't held to the same "trophy" standards, but we're beautiful in our own earthy way. Crocs and Carhartts are cool -- and comfortable -- even if they're not the height of fashion.

In recent years, these "Stepford wife" types have started to make me suspicious. I know from teaching them how to ski that they're generally indoor girls from the city who have different priorities in life. But why the nails? How can you do things with daggers like those? Why the layers of makeup? The stiff coated hair? Is it a self- esteem issue? Where do they find all that time to primp? It's an obvious difference on which I can't relate.

Bottom line: I'm self- conscious when showy; they're the show- stoppers. Let our men enjoy the eye candy, and then return to the inside and out beauty of their mountain mamas.

Peace.

Patty Lataille survived a drive- by roostering when she lived in Salida. She has since moved to greater Villa Grove to continue her work as a freelance writer/editor, ski/snowboard instructor, river guide and pet sitter.

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