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“After a few days, you guys are going to become like American women!”
Segueing from yesterday’s quip about Misery Tourism, an article in Harper's Magazine tickles with a reference to “‘extreme romance tours,’ to places like Chechnya, Baghdad, Afghanistan,” but spends much of the travelogue on bride shopping in Ukraine.
It never ceased to amaze that the whole “mail order bride” phenomenon elicits not a twinge of outrage from Ukrainian women—on the other (Slavic) hand, Russians are unable to have emotions of their own, so their glazed-eyed silence shouldn’t surprise. Nevertheless, the article does a good job of characterizing the American men who come by way of the dating circuit and also gives a fairly accurate impression of how the women make the most of these events.
Honestly though, this passage could describe casual Friday in most Ukrainian offices:
It must also be noted that Slavs—even Belarooskies—have many nice outfits as they would sooner go without vegetables than their Versace.Ninety percent or more of the “stock” looked to be under the age of thirty-five, and more than half of them a good ten years younger than that. Most had dressed to impress, though there were a variety of styles in play, from the demure to the outrageous. Roughly half of the women, especially the older ones, came dressed in evening attire, business suits, or simply slacks and sweaters. But among the younger ladies, exposed midriffs and plunging necklines abounded. In the Ukrainian manner, there were miniskirts, fishnet stockings, and vertiginous high-heeled boots; ruffles, sequins, and sheer, frilly sleeves. A pair of girls, neither of whom could have been over twenty-two, were covered in glitter and wore their hair in identically cut Cleopatra bangs. Heavy makeup, especially around the eyes and cheekbones, was de rigueur. Almost all of the women had long, straight hair. I had the distinct impression that many were wearing their one nice outfit for the occasion.
