Dialogue: Girls these days just want fun

By SANDY BURGHAM

I am in a post-feminism conundrum. I really tried to hate the recent Girls' Day Out event, really I did.

It started with the bubblegum jingle: Girls' Day Out - get your nails done, have a facial. You get the picture.

Then the announcer declared something like: "Beauty, fashion, hair, health, lifestyle - all the things you are interested in."

The loud speakers driving the promotional patter into my every pore, I entered, with the steely mindset of a detective collecting evidence for a High Court trial.

But within minutes I'd bought some mother-and-daughter matching clogs, discussed getting my kid into an ad with a friend who runs a modelling agency, and taken more than a passing interest in the laser non-penetrative facelift counter (just for future reference, I might add).

What was happening to me? There's more to a Girls' Day Out than this, isn't there?

Girls' Day Out is being dubbed the female version of Big Boys' Toys, a tedious event I was dragged kicking and screaming to last year.

In a previous column I offloaded my despair over the proliferation of fluffy promotional girls willingly handing out tyre brochures in skimpy costumes, obligingly providing the sex element in this fast-cars scenario.

Girls' Day Out retaliated with their himbo offer of buff young blokes shaving girls' legs and Marc Ellis serving juice, much to the delight of gaggles of gigglers.

But, sadly, I had to admit that possibly Big Boys' Toys had more depth. Because while the presence of a bookstore added a much-needed cerebral dimension, the overriding and overwhelming impression one had was that girls just wanted to have fun in a made-up fashion and in great clothes.

Sure, there were the usual trade exhibitors keen to feed off the foot traffic, but in saying that I noticed the "women in police" counter wasn't exactly run of its feet.

People wistfully looked at the less serious stands where the in-crowd were having a lot more fun.

This was an event for the sequinned boob tube and naval-piercing brigade. I mean, it was called Girls' Day Out, right?

And in this vein, I wondered what wonder drug Xenical was doing there. It seemed out of place, bordering on irresponsible.

I had thought this was a breakthrough drug which helped to control severe obesity.

Well, I didn't see too many obese people who couldn't see their feet shuffling along to Girls' Day Out.

Then there was a new drink I tried. It was totally delicious but what ruined it for me was the promotional sign saying something like: can you believe it's a diet drink? Why should I care?

There was plenty to keep the mothers-of-Britney occupied with furniture retailers and gourmet foods.

But it still jarred that laser and cosmetic surgery counters, which I am assuming were aimed at my generation and above, were in the same area as sparkly nail polish and fun wigs.

Maybe it is thought that they are all roughly in the same category, with one lot just requiring more money and time.

Girls' Day Out will be a huge success and I will probably find myself there again one day with my daughter in tow.

But somewhere deep inside of me it stirs up the conundrum of life as a liberated female in the aftermath of feminism.

Has anything really changed or are we just playing lip service to the hard graft the older feminists slogged away at?

Big Boys' Toys is about looking at things that are cool.

Girls' Day Out seemed really to be about things to make you look cool. And they do say that if you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem.

But banning all the superficial stuff would be like throwing a party without any booze. It just wouldn't be popular.

To me, Working Girl Barbie says it all. My friend bought one for her daughter as a tongue-in-cheek gift. It's the usual 36-24-36 Barbie, but this time she is ready for some heavy boardroom action with cellphone, filofax, briefcase and natty little suit.

Press her tummy and she exclaims politically correct 90s drivel such as: "I love going to work" and "Saving money is smart."

It is another watery attempt of Barbie's to fend off criticism and become a well-rounded role model.

But imagine if Working Girl Barbie couldn't talk and the kids had to provide her dialogue.

These days she'd be more likely to exclaim: "I've dropped 5 kilos" or "I'm pretty, do you like me?"