Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

"The Bombshell Manual of Style" by Laren Stover was a major disappointment. It's one of those schlocky "empowerment through high heels" things that have unaccountably become popular lately -- and not even a particularly good example of its ilk -- made even worse by combining it with schlocky nostalgia, a la the movie "Swingers". I kept waiting for the book to turn into a bitter parody of itself, i.e., "The Bimbo Manual of Style, 1957 Edition" (which at least would have been entertaining), but it never did -- or not intentionally. If only Ms. Stover had been content to let the book remain a frothy romp through vintage-style glamour, instead of also trying to make it a how-to book. It aimed for glitzy, missed, and ended up embarrassing, like reading old issues of "Cosmo". "Bombshell" encourages its readers to derive self-worth from that which is dumbest, silliest, and most trivial about femininity. It pretends otherwise, telling us that bombshells are intelligent, authentic, compassionate, etc. -- then suggests prancing into a job interview braless in a tight sweater. I can't see intelligent, authentic, compassionate women like Marie Curie or Rosa Parks or Mother Theresa doing that; so while a bombshell might be *permitted* to be intelligent, authentic, and compassionate, those qualities are clearly secondary -- what she's *required* to be is a busty floozy. I'm well aware that women have hearts and bodies as well as minds -- that we can be smart, strong, and functional while also enjoying love, sex, men, and traditionally feminine pursuits -- and three cheers for all that. I also want to make clear that I usually enjoy frivolous fun and/or "girlie" books. I loved "Kiss my Tiara", "Sex Tips for Girls", and "The Sweet Potato Queens' Guide to Life". I enjoyed "The Grrl Genius Guide to Life", "Mama Gena's School of Womanly Arts", "Miss Piggy's Guide to Life", and most of "The Bad Girl's Guide to Life" (all these books, by the way, do what this book tries to do, with far more amusing and helpful results). But there are limits. First of all, "Bombshell" assumes that 1950s-style femininity is good clean fun; innocent of social/cultural baggage, and bravely persevering despite a conspiracy of spoilsports to forbid it. I like dressing up and flirting as much as anyone; I'll admit that cleavage flaunting and the occasional tantrum have their place; and I work out faithfully, get pedicures, and wear perfume. What I find baffling and irritating is the notion that this is somehow rebellious -- as though there were Orwellian puritans prowling the streets, slapping lipsticks out of women's hands. I've never encountered anybody like that; but every single day of my life, I encounter movies, TV shows, magazines, advertisements -- and yes, books -- telling me in blatant and subtle ways that I should wear makeup, dye my hair, get "cosmetic" surgery, etc. Whether or not I comply is optional (so far), but one can't have it both ways. An image mandated by all of corporate capitalism, all of the mainstream media, and all of popular culture, cannot possibly be considered rebellious -- or even original. Fishnet hose may be fun, but they're not "fighting the power". Secondly, "Bombshell" is off-puttingly dated. Almost nothing in it postdates 1960. For example, one chapter is devoted entirely to perfumes popular between 1920-50 ("Jicky"? OK, Collette wore it, but where do they even sell it nowadays? In one shop in Paris?), including an elaborate, gushing description of one that no longer exists ("My Sin"). Everything introduced after 1980, no matter how popular it is/was, gets lumped together in a one-sentence dismissal, apparently because the fragrances of that era are too old to be trendy -- but, unlike the equally untrendy perfumes the author praises, are not yet old enough to be nostalgic. Thirdly, "Bombshell" conveniently overlooks the fact that being a bombshell went out of style for a reason -- it didn't work. Women have had the past few thousand years (surely a fair trial period for testing a theory) in which to act like shallow airheads, and it hasn't done us or anyone else any good. We still don't have world peace, comparable pay, or even a decent parking space. Stilettos and simpering only worked for beauties and movie stars -- and usually, not even for them. Marilyn Monroe, whom "Bombshell" constantly cites, had a miserably unhappy life, abused drugs and alcohol, and died, probably of suicide, while she was still in her thirties. So did Dorothy Dandridge, another of the book's "role models". Elizabeth Taylor has been divorced -- what, eight times? -- and in and out of rehab repeatedly. I don't wish to be unkind to any of the ladies in this book, but their combined track record suggests that its methods produce less than successful results. There's also a strangely artificial feel to "Bombshell". It has the same relationship to actual women as Ralph Lauren ads have to actual cowboys. Real-life women don't dress or act that way. With the exception of a few starlets and showgirls, nobody did, not even in those days. This book isn't about women in the 1950s -- it's about *movie characters* in the 1950s. Retro can be charming and fascinating in its own way, and there are several good books about various elements of retro style. "Bombshell" wasn't one of them. Those who don't enjoy this sort of thing should skip it. Those who *do* enjoy this sort of thing should *also* skip it, because they'd be better off watching Marilyn Monroe videos, listening to Frank Sinatra CDs, or reading hard-boiled detective stories (since those always seem to have at least one bombshell "dame" in them). Ms. Stover should have put together a coffee table book about vintage clothes, music, and movies; and gotten it out of her system. The illustrations in this book are delightful -- but otherwise, this "bombshell" is a dud.