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Amal Clooney in New York City on 9 March
Amal Clooney in New York City on 9 March. Photograph: XPX/Star Max/GC Images
Amal Clooney in New York City on 9 March. Photograph: XPX/Star Max/GC Images

Amal Clooney’s maternity wardrobe: more important than genocide?

This article is more than 7 years old

The media’s attempts to reduce the human rights lawyer to her physical appearance and biological function is the definition of sexism. Plus, a quick guide to mermaid hair

Amal Clooney’s maternity wardrobe is very smart. Why can’t all pregnant women dress this way?

Richard, by email

Because they want to upset you, Richard. In between the constant nausea and head-crushing exhaustion, pregnant women ask themselves, “How can I really displease Richard today? I know, I’ll wear this old sack again, partly because it is literally the only thing in my wardrobe that fits me and I don’t want to spend £70 on a dress that I’ll only be able to wear for five months. But mainly because I want to unsettle men, just for a laugh. Next on the list: occasionally disagree with a man’s opinion, just to be difficult. Ha!”

I’m going to push Richard’s ridiculous question to the side – because, frankly, life’s too short – but I do want to talk about Clooney’s maternity clothes. How could I possibly avoid them? After all, they’re literally more important than genocide. Last week Clooney, a human rights lawyer, went to the UN to talk about the world’s passive response to Islamic State’s brutality. But who cares about that? A pregnant woman was wearing something! Here’s a selection of headlines covering last week’s exciting maternity-wear story:

“Amal Clooney shows off her baby bump at the United Nations” (Time magazine)

“Amal’s little bump in the Big Apple” (Daily Mirror)

“Amal Clooney is a vision in yellow as she shows off hint of baby bump in chic dress” (Daily Mirror again)

“Amal Clooney nails an elegant maternity look as she speaks against Isis at the UN” (Daily Telegraph)

“Wearing four-and-a-half-inch heels at six months pregnant … is that wise, Amal?” (Daily Mail, obviously)

I reckon the Telegraph’s headline is my favourite because of how it openly acknowledges that fighting Isis is definitely secondary to “nailing an elegant maternity look”. It’s reminiscent of those Mail articles that cover terrible news events (a homicide, a kidnapping) but makes sure to include how much the house cost and where everyone went to school. Because tragedy’s bad, sure, but let’s never forget our middle-class values, OK? I really hope this article becomes the template for all future fashion magazine articles: 10 looks to nail when speaking out against crimes against humanity!

Really, what can I say here that isn’t just stating the obvious? That this is the definition of sexism, ignoring a woman’s achievements and focusing instead on her fertility and appearance? That it is a sad indictment of us all that a pregnant woman in a dress is deemed more newsworthy than international slaughter? That it’s embarrassing how excited the media are about the prospect of George Clooney’s spawn? Yes, yes and thrice yes. Clooney has said in interviews that she is happy if the “extra publicity” around her will help the public “understand what’s happening with the Yazidis and Isis”, which is a marvellous thought, although I didn’t get too much insight into the Yazidis’ plight in, say, the Telegraph piece, which preferred to focus on a discussion of Clooney’s “red-carpet game”.

Yes, this is the fashion section, and yes, what women wear can be sociologically revealing. Clooney does clearly make an effort with what she wears, and, frankly, bravo to her if she can find the energy to care about that while working as a lawyer and carrying two tiny humans inside her. But let’s not deny what’s really going on here, which is the media reducing a woman to her physical appearance and biological function. And if you think this is bad, just wait until those kids come along and the headlines will be all, “Mum Amal tries to balance home and work as she negotiates the release of seven hostages”, and “Mrs Clooney meets with the prime minister of Pakistan – but is she missing her children?” That thudding you’re feeling in your head right now? It’s your brain, asking to be put out of its misery.

Mermaid hair at New York fashion week last September. Photograph: Boudet/BFA/Rex/Shutterstock

I keep reading about “mermaid hair” – what is it, please?

Charlotte, by email

Mermaid hair has been the dernier cri in the all important hair trends for the past few months. I first noticed it at my yoga class last summer, because I’m a thirtysomething white woman and that’s where I notice trends. In my 20s I spotted new things at house parties and clubs; now, in my 30s, it’s at gym classes and healthfood stores: embrace the cliche.

Anyway, for those of you who don’t spend your morning making the same poses as your dog, mermaid hair is when someone dyes their hair a mix of gradiated colours, such as turquoise, purple, pale pink, and even silver – each mixing into the other. And, at first, I was rather taken with this: who, after all, could fail to be charmed by fantasy hair? Especially when there’s nothing else to look at in the room but a load of sweaty bodies and your thighs in spandex. Well, it turns out ubiquity can dim even the most magical of trends, because when you can’t get on a bus without seeing turquoise-grey-pink hair, well, its charm wanes. Also, there is something a little odd about seeing adult women basing their style on fairytale creatures, like grownups who get a little too excited about the prospect of dressing up as Snow White at their children’s birthday parties.

Still, you don’t know what you got until it’s gone. After all, the new live-action film The Little Mermaid is soon to be released, because Hollywood has officially run out of movie ideas, and there is not a strand of multicoloured mermaid hair to be seen in a single frame. There is, however, a giant tail, so I fully expect that to be the next big trend, and that yoga classes will become assault courses, with all those giant tails flapping around. Then all that blue-silver-grey hair won’t seem so bad.

Post your questions to Hadley Freeman, Ask Hadley, The Guardian, Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU. Email ask.hadley@theguardian.com.

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