Summertime in Montreal

Summertime,
And the livin’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’
And the cotton is high

- Lyrics form George Gershwin’s “Summertime” -

Summer… a season all us Canadians are longing for… it’s the period when our igloos start to melt and that we can now move in our tepees. In Montreal, there are 2 seasons: freezing cold and suffocating hot. Spring and Fall are concepts we learn about in books at school, but in real life, there are no such thing.

Although I believe Gershwin’s song was written as a jazzy ode to the hard-working African-Americans in the cotton fields of the Southern states early last century, I still think it applies to summer here. Living is easier: no snow to shovel, no ice to scrape and the sidewalks are friendly again. Fish are jumping off the shelves as the hot weather calls for cool foods to eat (ie: sushi!) and the cotton [skirts] are getting higher and higher on the thigh.

That’s a sure sign of summer here. The minute you see the first micro-mini-can’t-sit skirt going down the street, summer’s here. Being a Montrealer, we usually start to shed layers of clothing as soon as the snow starts to melt. I’ve seen people in T-shirts and flip-flops when it was still only 10C…shivering, but desperately wanting to be the first to show some flesh… Now that it’s finally really warming up (up to 29C today), you can image the different stages of nakedness people are in.

With the layers of clothing shrinking away, I witness all sorts of things I wish I hadn’t. It’s like snow… when it melts, we discover surprises that should better remain hidden. In the snow example, dog poo and trash are the most common yucky unsightly things exposed with warm weather. With diminishing clothes, it’s a hanging belly, visible butt crack, overflowing lard handles and the likes.

I can already hear the love-thy-body-love-thy self advocates yelling at me: “A woman can dress as she likes and as she feels! Liberate your body! Every one should be allowed to wear a micro-mini-skirt, even if she weighs 400 pounds! No one is allowed to comment and guys cannot look!”

To those folks, I say pish-posh (I’m being polite)! I am a girl myself and I can’t stand the sight of a 3-sizes too small under-dressed woman that bulges out everywhere and then complains about being fat and unattractive. Whether you weigh 50 or 500 pounds, if clothing is 2 sizes too small, you will still end up looking like a sausage and feeling fat. Some days, I wonder what would motivate these people to dress that way. First, it must not be comfortable. Second, it does them no service and it is, to me, is a form of visual pollution.

I clearly recall a sighting where a girl, probably 14-16 years of age, average height, average weight. She was wearing the mandatory how-low-can-you-go jeans and a belly showing shirt…the typical North American teenager uniform, quoi. What’s wrong with this picture? Well, her belly was hanging OVER her pants in the front! Not bulging out, but hanging down… It was as if someone stuck some Playdough on the tummy and pulled it down. I am not one to judge, but what’s the idea behind that? I doubt that makes her feel good about herself… Where’s the comfort? Now that’s visual pollution! Won’t anybody think of the children?!

Montreal often boasts about being the city with the best looking girls. Well, some of them can actually pull off the barely-there look. However, when they do so, I hope that they are fully aware and expect to be looked at and drooled over when underdressed. If they have conscience of that, I have no problem… If they want to feel like objects, let them be. I’m all for freedom of choice and expression. It’s the false-modesty I can’t stand. If you want to flaunt it, do so, but do know that people will be staring at you.

Grand Prix coming to town next week… that’s when the best Eurotrash end up on our shores and with them, the start of the “Skankier than thou” contest…

So here, guys, a piece of advice: when the weather gets really hot and sticky, save a few bucks and go walk along the downtown streets (especially Friday and Saturday nites)… you’ll get an eyeful… for free!

(By the way, this observation applies for both guys and gals…)