In her 2005 New York Times Bestselling memoir, Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress: Tales of Growing up Groovy and Clueless, modern day feminist Susan Jane Gilman humorously and honestly recounts her life growing up in New York City during the 1970s. She divides the book into three sections, which are representative of the stages of her life up to her late 20s. Starting logically at her early childhood, she entitles Part 1 "Grape Juice and Humiliation," before moving on to her adolescence in Part 2: "Not Just Horny, But Obnoxious, Too." The concluding section chronicles her awkward transition into adulthood and the responsibility it brings. Part 3 is cleverly entitled "Reality Says Hello." In her memoir Gilman puts forth a kind of feminism that encourages women to both acknowledge their own mistakes, and learn to let them go.
In the forward, which she calls the "Author's Soapbox", Gilman herself admits that “It’s hope that these 'coming of age' stories will make readers laugh, and prove once and for all that a girl doesn't need a guy in her life in order to act like a complete idiot." Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress is most notably acclaimed by established memoirist Frank McCourt (Angela's Ashes, ’Tis) who is quoted on the back cover. He says, "She ranges over the days and dilemmas of her generation like Erica Jong over a prairie of libido...This is a memoir men should read. It explains a generation that is neither Lost nor Beat, Silent nor Xed, and Susan Gilman is its saucy chronicler."
Famous quotes containing the words hypocrite, white and/or dress:
“A hypocrite despises those whom he deceives, but has no respect for himself. He would make a dupe of himself too, if he could.”
—William Hazlitt (1778–1830)
“I’ve often wondered why she laughed
On thinking why I wondered so;
It seemed such waste that long white hands
Should touch my hands and let them go.”
—Allen Tate (1899–1979)
“The swimming hole is still in use. It has the same mudbank. It is still impossible to dress without carrying mud home in one’s inner garments. As an engineer I could devise improvements for that swimming hole. But I doubt if the decrease in mother’s grief at the homecoming of muddy boys would compensate the inherent joys of getting muddy.”
—Herbert Hoover (1874–1964)