Cocktail Party Physics

veronica mars: science role model

So, what do you do when you're getting over the flu, and aren't completely incapacitated in a drugged-out stupor, but also not exactly 100% and therefore unable to be very productive? Such has been my fate the last couple of days. My solution? Marathon viewings of Season 1 of the short-lived TV series Veronica Mars. You remember, the one starring Kristin Bell as the sassy, sarcastic pint-sized blonde love child of Philip Marlow and Nancy Drew. She was definitely in the same class as Buffy, so it's not surprising that Joss Whedon was a fan. Even his considerable coolness clout couldn't save the show from cancellation after only three seasons. (You can watch some great Season 2 highlights here; embedding has been disabled.)

At least we'll always have the DVDs to remind us of what we once had. I'd forgotten just how whip-smart this series was. Veronica is tough, vulnerable without being whiny (a recurring problem for Buffy, alas), smart, and self-assured, with a PI dad who encourages her natural inquisitiveness, while worrying about her safety. ("I think I'm going to get you one of those big plastic hamster balls, so you can roll around poking your nose into things without getting hurt.") Season 1 had one of the best fight scenes I've ever seen on TV: Veronica's dad, Keith Mars, facing off against the unmasked murderer of her best friend in a very realistic fistfight -- between opponents who really have no idea what they're doing. They swing wildly, tussle blindly, get tired quickly, and there are no flashy Jet Li-style martial arts acrobatics -- yet the stakes couldn't be higher.

As great as the supporting cast is, everything rests on the character of Veronica, who is the perfect role model for any young girl who cares about thinking critically. Keith Mars jokingly tells a colleague that the first words out of Veronica's mouth were, "Their case is fuzzy and circumstantial."(Thanks to commenter Casey for the correction.) I just think the evidence is really weak." That's her superpower: she understands the nature of evidence, the need to build a case. And that makes her quite the little scientific investigator, even if she's more concerned with solving murders, uncovering blackmail schemes, and exposing cheating spouses -- in between high school classes, of course -- than unlocking the secret workings of the universe.

Most important, when the evidence tells her something she doesn't want to hear -- she believes the evidence, no matter how painful the truth may be. Nowhere is this more clear than in a Season 1 episode where Veronica's favorite history teacher is accused of sleeping with and impregnating another student. [WARNING: MANY SPOILERS TO FOLLOW!!!] Veronica sets out to prove his innocence, pitting her against her own father, who has been hired by the victim's parents to prove the teacher's guilt. Keith warns his daughter -- with his vast life experience -- that she's setting herself up for disillusionment; heroes always turn out to have feet have clay. But he doesn't stop her from investigating. He knows she needs to figure some stuff out for herself.

The teacher is so disarmingly cute and charming, so eminently likeable, and speaks so eloquently about his love for teaching and how it's all he's ever wanted to do. His accuser is beautiful and bitchy, with a history of telling lies and spreading gossip, including lies about Veronica. And sure, it turns out that Veronica's instincts were partly right: the girl was lying... on behalf of another girl too ashamed to come forward publicly. But the teacher was guilty as hell. So a good teacher in public can still do bad things in private, and the high school bitch can show some altruism and go to the mat for an innocent victim. And Veronica? She believes the evidence. She admits she was wrong. 

A few months ago, I ranted -- as one does sometimes -- about the fact that science has so many fair-weather friends: people who love science and think it's cool, but only when it involves cool gadgetry, quirky stories, or life-saving remedies. The real test is, how do you react when science tells you something you don't want to hear, that challenges your assumptions and prevailing worldview? We need to be more like Veronica Mars. Curious, inquisitive, fearless about ferreting out the truth, even when the truth hurts like hell, rather than staying in safe, cocooned intellectual hamster balls. As Veronica says, "Nobody likes a blonde in a hamster ball." Sometimes the truth hurts. You deal with it.

 

two things

I've got seven minutes left on my coffee break before I need to plough through my to-do list to make a dentist appointment, but I've missed you, and wanted to write a quick love note.

Thing the first: I got a new tattoo to celebrate the completion of my next book. Cesium would have been more meaningful, but also more painful. I went with lithium to ward off the crazy. It isn't working.

 

 

Thing the second: After my horrible experiences in online dating, I decided to further abuse myself with OKCupid. I did end up on some lovely dates so far, but felt the need to share the following instant message with you, so we may all have a good cry:

(5:01:50 pm) Him: you are awesome

(5:02:25 pm) Me: thanks?

(5:02:50 pm) Him: wat you like chatting about?

(5:03:41 pm) Me: physics

(5:04:18 pm) Him: ok. i am cool with that. i used to watch the physic friend network with dione warwick

(5:04:36 pm) Me: WOW.

(5:04:53 pm) Him: do you think physics can predict the future?

Okey dokey! So with that, I'm off to the awful to-do list. Away.

crown jewels

They say that diamonds are a girl's best friend, but actually, it depends upon the girl in question. Jen-Luc Piquant, for instance, prefers emeralds and sapphires as adornments to her fine pixelated self -- although she likes the occasional splash of diamond in her tiara, and she wouldn't say no to a rare blue or yellow diamond should a well-heeled virtual Cyber-suitor offer one to her. I, on the other hand, have quirkier tastes. True, I adore the wedding ring the Spousal Unit chose for me, but it's as much for the unique asymmetry of the piece -- designed to sit at an elegant angle on my finger -- as for the three very pretty diamonds arranged therein. And whenever I check out the window displays of high-end jewelry stores, the glittering wares -- many retailing for tens of thousands of dollars -- strike me as garish, and frankly leave me cold.

Truth be told, I prefer the less flashy, more natural stones. Rubies? All but the most expensive varieties tend to be pinkish in tone. Give me the rich deep red of the mundane garnet any day. Like my good friend Peri, I am enthralled by opals, a.k.a., Nature's home-grown photonic crystals -- about which I have written extensively. Fine turquoise can be counted upon to catch my eye if it's in an unusual setting, and especially if it's the coveted Bixbee Blue variety native to the copper mines of Arizona:

Even better is the deeper, darker blue of lapis lazuli; jasper; malachite; jade; and quartz, which has the added value of being piezoelectric. But sterling silver and semi-precious stones are just a small part of Nature's jewelry-inspiring bounty. For instance, I occasionally wear a pretty dragonfly pendant -- real laminated dragonfly wings set into a silver "body" -- that never fails to elicit admiration from like-minded women. We are legion. As with our shoes, we like our jewelry to reflect our individuality, as well as accessorizing our outfits. If, like me, you love jewelry that reflects your love of science, rejoice! There are some truly unique offerings out there these days.

By far my favorite pieces in my own jewelry box are a matching sterling silver set based on ammonite fossils: pendant, cuff bracelet, and ring. Ammonites are extinct marine creatures especially prevalent in the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods (they went extinct with the dinosaurs 65 million years ago). They look a lot like the modern Nautilus, but are actually more closely related as a species to octopus, squid and cuttlefish. Sometimes they are even iridescent, if conditions have helped preserve their mother-of-pearl coatings; in rare instances, they can be polished to resemble gemstones. I bought my pieces years ago, and was pleased to find business is still thriving for a similar online store specializing in unique fossil jewelry. There's a lovely pendant with black onyx and Moroccan ammonite (pictured below), for instance, and a cephalopod fossil ring (PZ Myers could present it as gift to his infamous Trophy Wife). 

Ammonite appeals to me on so many levels: visually, on a tactile level, plus it has a long, rich mythological history. The creatures owe their name to Pliny the Elder (who died around 79 AD); he called them ammonis cornua ("horns of Ammon") because the Egyptian god Ammon was frequently shown wearing ram's horns and ammonites are tightly coiled like ram's horns. They are revered in the Hindu religion, and were known as "snakestones" in medieval Europe since they were believed to be petrified snakes -- the result of divine acts of intervention perpetrated by Saint Hilda or Saint Patrick. Personally, I covet this custom-made silver bracelet with semi-precious stones and ammonite fossils, even though it's already been snatched up by some lucky woman (hey, at least I saved $630).

 

If ammonite just isn't your thing, there's plenty of other styles from which to choose. The best known science-themed jewelry maker (and it's even affordable) in science blog circles is Molecular Muse, which made a splash a couple of years ago when it debuted its series of pendants and earrings based on popular molecules: caffeine, for instance, and serotonin, not to mention cocoa and resveratrol. The latter is a molecule commonly found in the skin of grapes, and thus, red wine -- which several studies have shown may reduce the risk of cancer when consumed in moderation. Plus it makes an awfully pretty necklace (note the garnet teardrop at the tip):

Jessica of Bioephemera (one of my favorite blogs) has an especially keen eye for this sort of thing. Check out her recent post spotlighting the wares of Nervous System, a jewelry company founded by two MIT grads. The pieces combine "nontraditional materials like silicone rubber and stainless steel with rapid prototyping methods," and find "inspiration in complex patters generated by computation and nature." Jessica picked this algae filament necklace to highlight: 

Ah, but she outdid herself this past week by digging up a truly unique find: bejewelled sterling silver "skeleton hands," half bracelet, half gauntlet, retailing at a paltry $24K courtesy of Delfina Delettrez. One word: WANT!!! Oh, Delfina, why do you tempt me so? Until the Spousal Unit and I win the lottery, I must admire longingly from afar. The only thing cooler would be my very own Witchblade.

But for all my love of semi-precious stones, ideally I'd like my jewelry to be at least somewhat sustainable. So I was thrilled when noted entomologist May Berenbaum (University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana) contacted me a few weeks ago about an organization called Conservation through Poverty Alleviation International (CPALI), dedicated to developing wild silks as sustainable renewable income sources in Madagascar. Madagascar, as you may know, is a "hotspot" of biodiversity, and 90% of its species dwell in its forests, which are at risk from the "slash and burn" agricultural practices; apparently less than 10% of the original forest remains. The production of yarns and silks could provide an alternative to impoverished local farmers for generating income in a way that does not, in the long run, destroy their livelihood (not to mention all manner of rare species).

Moth silk in particular shows promise as a raw material for unique textiles and jewelry and other decorative objects, although at the moment, production isn't high enough for this to be a realistic thriving business. Market demand needs to be developed. To that end, CPALI now has an online store, Rainforest Silk, which sells a few head scarves and shawls spun from moth silk. Some truly lovely patterns can be woven using silk harvested from three species of moth (Atherina suraka, Hypsoides singularis, and "ginger" Borocera):

May also sent me some photos of truly eye-catching (and sustainable!) jewelry incorporating moth silk and cocoons. Like this ethereal Tim-Burton-esque set of earrings (I don't wear earrings, but if this comes in pendant form, the Spousal Unit now knows my dearest birthday wish):

Here's a pendant made with black sapphire and gold, as well as moth silk:

And here's a ruby and silk pendant that looks a lot like gold filigree, except even finer:

With support from the National Geographic Society, CPALI has been hard at work demonstrating the feasibility of using the silk moths of Madagascar as a tool for conserving the region's rich biodiversity. Long-term, the goal is to establish small-scale local businesses that use the forest resources sustainably. To date, they've identified specific sites where the favored food plants of the three target moth species are abundant, and have set up a learning and training center in Morantsetra for farmers interested in rearing larvae/silk cocoons -- the same food plants can be grown in the family garden along with dietary staples like manioc, tomatoes, sweet potatoes and peppers. It's not big business yet, but the niche "eco-fashion" market is as good a place as any to start. I, for one, welcome the decorative possibilities offered by the Moths of Madagascar.

does science fiction matter? at all? even a little?

Oh, cool! My favorite topic. And somebody asked me to write about it! Peggy Kolm, over at Biology in Science Fiction, sent the Cocktail Party an invitation to blog about science fiction for ScienceOnline09, an annual science communication conference that brings together scientists, bloggers, educators, and students to discuss promoting public understanding of science. She and Stephanie Zvan of Almost Diamonds will be moderating a session on science fiction as a tool for science communication and are looking for input on the topic and to start an online conversation between science fiction writers and science bloggers. Since the primary function of Cocktail Party Physics is to communicate science to the masses (and here you thought it was virtual drinking), I'm biting. Besides, who can resist answering lists of questions about oneself? Not I! Since one of my first posts for CCP was about Arthur C. Clarke's space elevator, it seems only appropriate.

I will now proceed to bloviate. Or expound. Pick your verb.

• What is your relationship to science fiction? Do you read it? Watch it? What/who do you like and why?
  
  I'm a long-time science fiction fan who dabbles in writing it, and I occasionally teach it in literature and writing classes. I cut my teeth on the original Star Trek in the 60s and quickly moved on to harder drugs in the 70s: Heinlein, Bradbury, Asimov, Cherryh, Norton, Pohl, Niven, Clarke, Frank Herbert, and reluctantly, Philip K. Dick. I read it wherever I could find it, and watched it when I could (in our one-channel household, that wasn't often; now I have no TV at all). I still think Babylon 5 is one of the finest pieces of TV science fiction ever made, though Firefly is certainly interesting and could have been a close rival had it gone on longer. Networks have a bad habit of canceling stuff just when it gets interesting, which is why I've always been more of a fan of SF (or specfic) in print than on TV or in the movies. That said, Star Wars hooked me when it first came out and deeply disappointed me later (though I'm an undying fan). I also saw Silent Running at about the same time and still think of it fondly. It kind of rode in on the cusp of the ecology movement and the thought of that orbiting forest was just heartbreaking. I still hope it wasn't prophetic. And, of course, there was 2001: A Space Odyssey, which I didn't see until several years after it came out. That just reinforced my interest in astronomy, cosmology and space travel, Hal or no. "It's full of stars!"
  
  What attracts me to science fiction and its various subgenres is not just the hardware or the science but the world-building: how that science fits into the larger scheme of things, how it shapes society, how society interacts with it, how society shapes science in turn. I've been at least as fascinated by the interaction as I've been by the science itself. I think scientists sometimes unconsciously think of their research as occurring in a vacuum; it's pure and righteous because it's the search for knowledge. But history is full of boxes that were opened too early, or that couldn't be slammed shut again and I think that's one of the useful checks and balances of science fiction. It asks those questions about consequences.
  
  Currently, I'm following Iain M. Banks, China Mieville, Melissa Scott, Neal Stephenson, Dan Simmons, Connie Willis, and William Gibson, among others. Banks is uneven and can be extremely obtuse, but his conceptions of AI and a far-reaching, far future galactic society are fascinating, when they work. Melissa Scott brings some interesting twists to the hacker culture envisioned by William Gibson, who's gone far beyond that into more culturally interesting and less sciencey questions in his recent books. I like Gibson for his ability to anticipate or ride the culture and technology wave the way he does in All Tomorrow's Parties and Idoru. He and Bruce Sterling have really helped turn contemporary science fiction into futurism, and as a result driven some of the science itself, at least in computers. Neal Stephenson just leaves me in awe; even his not-quite-successes are provocative and thoughtful. I like that he's not afraid to ask big questions or use science in outrageous ways. Ditto with Dan Simmons. Did he actually coin the term Post-human? I don't know quite what to say about Mieville except he's a fascinating world-builder. I also have a deep fondness for Spider Robinson, who is one of the most humanist of contemporary science fiction writers, but because he's funny as all hell, gets little credit. He's the guy who first got me interested in Tesla. How could I resist someone who carries lightning in his pockets?


• What do you see as science fiction's role in promoting science, if any? Can it do more than make people excited about science? Can it harm the cause of science?
  
  Science fiction's job, first and foremost, is to tell a good story. That's the job of any kind of fiction. The science is a tool for telling the story and of course, tools get bent and broken when they're used. But the beauty of science fiction is that, because it's fiction, it's allowed to go out on a limb and stretch the facts, to extrapolate wildly, and take science down paths it might never go. Personally, I think the popular press does far more to mangle science communication than most science fiction does, precisely because it presents itself as definitive fact. We expect facts to be correct, and if it's someone not versed in science writing about  a new development, sometimes it's disastrously misleading. Fiction, not so much. It's a story. The important point is that science fiction can't be the only way of communicating science. It's a jumping-off point, not a primary source. And its job is not to promote science, though it can be a great vehicle for that.
  
  What science fiction can do that science journalism can't (or just doesn't, often) is not just elide the boring stuff, the drudgery of lab work, the negative results, the scratching for grants, but gussy up that process. For SF, it's usually the technology that's in place, or as in Geoff Ryman's novel Air, one that's about to go online, that's exciting. Sometimes, as in Kim Stanley Robinson's Mars trilogy, and Arthur C. Clarke's The Fountains of Paradise, it's all about the process too. Fiction is great at communicating the sense of possibility and the excitement of discovery. It humanizes the scientific process. People do science, and sometimes they do it imperfectly, or for other motivations, or hoping for other results. It's good to remind us all of that fact.
  
  As for harming the "cause" of science, I think you have to define what that is first, before you decide whether fictional portrayals can harm it. If the cause of science is to discover how everything works, to advance human knowledge, I doubt that much said about it in science fiction would stop or harm that. Humans are too curious to let much stop them from asking "Why?" and "How?" If the questions aren't asked now, they will be eventually. The mad scientist has been an archetype in the culture at least since Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, if not Prometheus, and that hasn't stopped or hindered anything. Politics and ignorance do far more damage in that area than sketchy science in SF ever will.
  
  What stories like, say, A Canticle for Leibowitz or The Road or even Dr. Strangelove do is make us think about the possible consequences of new or old technologies. That's never a bad thing. If science journalism picks up the story there, and helps the public explore and make decisions about the use of those technologies in an honest and rational manner, so much the better. But sometimes a story can reach people where "just the facts" can't. Even if it's not entirely factual or absolutely correct in every detail, SF is serving science. Ask those engineering geeks who went around WorldCon chanting "The Ringworld is unstable!" at Larry Niven. Asked to derive those same equations for some other unstable system, they'd have been bored stiff. Sometimes those mistakes are just as important as the absolutely correct science facts.
  
  But if the cause of science is simply to go its merry way unquestioned by the muggles, that makes science fiction, even SF with bad science in it, even more important.  It's important that the questions get asked, even if they're the wrong questions. At least a discussion gets started.
  
  Then there's the question of what bad science is in this context. And who gets to define that? Is it "impossible" science? Science whose details are a little sketchy? Is it science that dead ended, like Steampunk, or failed science that transformed into legitimate science, like alchemy? Once you insist that science fiction stick strictly to the known facts, you've cut the heart out of it and you've cut the heart out of science's primary driver: curiosity. Should only scientists write science fiction about their fields? Oh, hell no! Save me from (most) scientists writing SF!
  
  One of the problems I noticed pretty early in my exploration of science fiction was that in "hard" science fiction, especially that written by people who were either scientists or extremely knowledgeable about science, the characters were often 2-D instead of 3-D. The writers were more interested in the hardware and tech than in creating strong characters. But you can't have a good story without good characters. Tech alone will not drive a storyline (one of the problems with the later Star Wars movies: they're too caught up in the special effects and props). And if you don't have a good story with good characters, you have few readers or viewers.


• Have you used science fiction as a starting point to talk about science? Is it easier to talk about people doing it right or getting it wrong?
  
  Absolutely. Not only here at CPP and on my own blogs, but in the classroom. For a couple of years, I taught a freshman composition course based on writing about science. We used one of Stephen Jay Gould's essay collections and a couple of science fiction novels each semester to both illustrate the difference between writing factually and writing about science and to ask questions about science itself.  One of the novels we used was Frank Herbert's The White Plague. Herbert did a lot of research about the availability of equipment and plausibility of developing deadly microbes in your basement if you had the knowledge, and was careful to be as correct as possible when describing the science and the construction of the underground lab. I still have my doubts about whether it would be possible for one person to construct a deadly microbe with his own resources in his basement, but my class swallowed it whole. The lesson I learned from this is that most people don't notice whether the science is wrong or right when it's a good story. They suspend disbelief, which is what writers want. What matters is that the plot seems plausible. What the book did do is start a conversation about research on biological warfare agents, long before the Sarin gas attack in the Japanese subway, or the anthrax scare over here. A number of students ended up writing research papers about it.
  
  I think worrying about "wrong science" or "bad science" in science fiction is something of a red herring, truthfully. I don't think it has that much influence, even on TV. As a literary genre, it's finally being taken more seriously than it ever has been before, but it's still not highly regarded or the type of entertainment that people take very seriously, unless they're already geeky.
  
  It's a kind of self-perpetuating cycle. When I recently tried to add "Speech Sounds" by Octavia Butler to the syllabus of a class I'm teaching, my supervisor's response was "Oh, take that out; the students don't like it and don't understand it." I suspect one of the reasons they didn't like and it and didn't understand it was because so many academics don't teach it well, and don't like it themselves. Which is odd, because it's a story all about communication, as well as about neuroscience. But it's a typical response to science fiction, sadly.
  
  The audience for SF is largely self-selecting, and while we're pretty passionate about it, it's not until someone like Cormac McCarthy writes a post-apocalyptic novel like The Road, or Margaret Atwood writes a piece of feminist specfic like The Handmaid's Tale, that people pay attention to the genre. Gaming is changing some of that, as have shows like Firefly, Andromeda or Farscape, but I don't think the non-geeky public at large pays much attention to SF, or, sadly, to science. And it's the non-geeky public that science needs to reach most.


• Are there any specific science or science fiction blogs you would recommend to interested readers or writers?
  
  Science Fiction blogs:
  
  I highly recommend Feminist SF--The Blog! and the carnival associated with it. And of course, IO9, but everybody's going to say that. More feminist SF at Ambling Along the Aqueduct.  And there's Lablit.com, which has the same aim that the NAS's new Science and Entertainment Exchange (headed up by our own Jennifer Ouellette), to encourage the realistic depiction of science. And, well, Eat Our Brains. What else would you call a group blog by SF writers?
  
  Science blogs:
  
  I love Deep Sea News for the critters and politics; Thus Spake Zuska's take on gender issues in science; Beyond Stone and Bone because I'm a history/archaeology geek too; and Cosmic Variance keeps me up to date on the physics end of things. Both BLDGBLOG and Pruned have a lot more science in them than you would think at first glance. And Bruce Sterling's blog over at Wired.

these boots weren't made for walking

Every now and then, shoe-frenzy makes a cameo appearance the blogosphere. Okay, it's omnipresent in blogs dealing with fashion and shopping, but most of us (male and female) have to shop for footwear at some point. And some of us feel compelled to blog about our particularly noteworthy finds, at least in passing. You know, like the incomparable Heather Armstrong at Dooce, who has waxed ecstatic about silver-metallic ballet flats (dismissed by her husband as "elf shoes"), and once wrote this wonderful paean to the joy of finding the perfect pair. Armstrong is known for detailing the minutiae of her daily life on her blog, but that doesn't mean the rest of us don't occasionally bliss out over an especially nifty pair of pumps. Which is exactly what happened in comment threads this week over at Bitch PhD and Shakesville. (Fair warning to the easily offended: why are you clicking on a link to a blog called Bitch PhD in the first place? Because you thought it would be about knitting while sipping mint juleps and nibbling cucumber sandwiches? Duh!)

Ah, but there are lots of killjoys out there on teh Internets, no doubt wearing too-tight or ill-fitting shoes (or, worse, clunky "sensible" shoes), which might explain why they're so cranky, and why they feel compelled to spoil other people's fun. Apparently some people criticized Shakesville's Melissa McEwan for departing from her usual hard-hitting feminist political fare to focus on something as trivial as shoes. I'm guessing this is something women scientists face as well. We aren't allowed, it seems, to take pleasure in the small joys of life and still be Serious Women, respected professionals in our chosen fields.

Um, screw that. I'm the patron saint of comfy sensible shoes -- I'm known for it among my female friends, in fact (who are not always complimentary about my workmanlike choices) -- but that doesn't mean I can't branch out once in awhile and be truly stylin'. Who says women can't be smart, serious, 100% professional, and still totally rock a pair of hot pink pumps if they want to? (Or asphalt-stomping Doc Martens, if that's your preference. To each his/her own.) In honor of Melissa, Bitch PhD, Heather, and all you other shoe-lovers out there, today's post will focus on the science of footwear.

First, a look at this week's featured products before we delve into the science. Bitch PhD offered these multi-colored beauties:

Then Melissa weighed in with these innocent-seeming pink pumps that launched a thousand angry comments (UPDATE: Oops! Apparently it was only a couple of negative comments, but it did inspire her to write a blog post on the topic):

Followed by these plaid ballet flats, for the more sensible-minded of her readers:

Just for good measure, since we're talking flats, here's Heather's silver ballet flats (a.k.a., "elf shoes"), which I covet greatly:

Perhaps your tastes run to more of a Goth/fetish look. A few blog posts ago, I mentioned going shoe-shopping with the Spousal Unit (who wore ostrich skin boots at our wedding, so he's a man who appreciates stylish footwear). I got some comfy low-heeled sandals for summer, a couple pairs of Skechers (for daily practical wear), and these fabulous New Rock Malicia Silver Spiderweb mid-calf-length boots:

Yeah. It's an indulgence. These boots are definitely not made for walking, although as stiletto heels go, they're surprisingly comfortable. Ergo, I bought them. That's what a well-made pair of heels does for you, and why they're worth paying a bit extra. According to a UK pal of mine, "fantasy heels" are all the rage this season for the "fashion forward." Take that, cranky Shakesville commenters! (Or, you know, the one or two commenters who complained...)

Okay, so we're fashion forward. Yay, us. But could there really be any actual science associated with sexy stilettos? "Mais oui!" Jen-Luc Piquant exclaims. "How could you doubt it?" We need look no further than Jolly Olde England. Several years ago, The Globe and Mail ran an entertaining article about a physics professor at the University of Surrey named Paul Stevenson who calculated the maximum height of stiletto heels a woman could wear without falling over, and/or cramping up in pain. He did so at the behest of a publicist at the Institute of Physics in London, who -- while watching the series finale of Sex and the City -- found herself wondering how the women in the show could possibly wear such high stiletto heels and still perambulate around the Big Apple with any measure of grace. I've never seen the appeal of the show myself (which puts me firmly in the minority among women), but must admit, it's a valid question.

Stevenson obliged by coming up with a formula for the maximum heel height you could wear without tipping over: h = Q x (12+3s/8). His formula determines how changes in foot slope increase the "tippiness" likelihood. It's based on the wearer's shoe size and something he calls the "Q" factor: taking into account sociological factors like how much pain a woman is prepared to tolerate for the sake of style. (If you're me, the Q factor is pretty low: if a shoe pinches or chafes, it's coming off, which is why those gorgeous Michael Kors sage green ballet flats I bought for half price are sitting forlornly in my closet, unworn. But a friend of mine once developed bleeding blisters walking around in ill-fitting shoes because she loved them so much.) It's hard to quantify that sort of subjective parameter, which is probably why we haven't seen Stevenson's paper on arXiv. But he made a noble attempt, figuring in things like "the probability that wearing the shoes will turn heads," how much experience (in years) the wearer has with high heels, the cost of the shoes (in British pounds), how much time has elapsed since the shoe style was all the rage, and of course, the amount of alcohol consumed by the wearer.

Going by Stevenson's handy formula, the answer is: about five inches. (Of course, that's assuming the wearer is sober; alcohol can really disrupt one's equilibrium.) It's basic Pythagorean geometry, really: much like the hypotenuse of a triangle, the sharper the angle of the foot in the shoe, the more unsteady the wearer becomes -- especially since stilettos support the wearer's weight on a relatively small area. The answer would be different for a broader heel, since the greater area would probably help the wearer remain stable at even greater heel heights.

Stability aside, one's weight pressing down on stiletto heels produces a huge amount of pressure. The late, great songstress Kirsty MacColl has a classic tune called "In These Shoes," wherein the heroine turns down offers from aspiring swains to take her on all kinds of far-flung adventures, in response to which she sniffs, "In these shoes? I don't think so...." In the final stanza, an Englishman asks her to walk up and down his spine in her sexy stilettos. The response: "In these shoes? I doubt you'd survive." She's not kidding. A 100-pound woman in a pair of stiletto high heels would exert pressure under the foot that is 20 times greater than that of a 6-ton elephant. (Jen-Luc cautions: Don't make Sarah Jessica Parker angry by knocking Sex and the City too loudly, lest she stomp on you with her pricey Manolo Blahnik pumps!) 

Stevenson's formula was primarily concerned with balance, but the awkward angles and high pressures associated with heels has been cause for concern in some circles. For years now, orthopaedists, podiatrists and other medical sorts have been warning women about the health risks of routinely donning high heels: bunions, stress fractures, joint pain in the ball of the foot (because weight is shifted to the ball of your foot, rather than being distributed over the entire foot), corns and calluses, hammertoes, ingrown toenails, toenail fungus, and something called "pump bumps" (enlargement of the bony area on the back of the heel). High heels have been linked to injured leg muscles, lower back pain, and osteoarthritis in the knee, too, because when you wear heels, the foot slides forward, redistributes your weight and creates those unnatural pressure points. You can pretty much kiss healthy spinal alignment goodbye. 

High heels also mean your heel bones don't regularly come into contact with the ground, so the Achilles tendon can't stretch out properly while walking, and thus becomes shortened and/or tightened. Then there's a little thing called Morton's neuroma, a growth of nerve tissue in the foot -- usually between the third and fourth toes -- that arises when you wear too-tight shoes, causing sharp burning pain in the ball of your foot and a stinging or numbness in your toes. The list goes on and on. In fact, thanks to high heels, the American Orthopaedic Foot & Ankle Society estimates that women account for 90% of surgeries performed each year for common foot ailments.  That's about $3.5 billion annually in the US alone, according to this May 2007 article in the Washington Post.

Suddenly Heather's "elf shoes" are starting to look pretty good, right? Ah, but are flats really better for your feet than heels? Inquiring minds want to know. The answer is, not necessarily. Flip-flops, for example, can cause other kinds of problems, like plantar fasciitis, thanks to the repeated lifting of the heel away from the shoe surface. Ballet flats don't offer much in the way of arch support, and can still be tight and/or ill-fitting; they're not really made for walking long distances, either. So perhaps now all the folks who snickered at the practical Teva clogs I wore until they fell apart will reconsider their harsh judgment of my fashion sense. I could walk for hours in those Tevas, they were that comfortable. And having lived without a car for many years in New York City and Washington DC, I've always been an inveterate walker.

So, what should we look for in a stylin' pair of shoes? The recommendation is usually for a rounded toe, more cushioning in the sole, and good arch support (a quality that is lacking in my pretty new Skechers and languishing Kors ballet flats). If one must wear high heels, it's recommended you limit the height to 3 inches (preferably 1 or 2 inches) and not wear them for more than three hours at a stretch -- something that is not an option for, say, cocktail waitresses in Vegas. Wider heels are preferable to stilettos, and it's important to make sure shoes aren't too narrow for your feet.

The Mayo Clinic recommends shopping for shoes in the late afternoon or early evening, since the feet swell up during the day, and trying on both shoes of a pair, since many folks have one foot that is bigger than the other. Also? "There's no such thing as a 'break-in' period. Shoes should feel comfortable right away. Don't buy a pair that you think will fit well after you've worn them for awhile." (*hangs head in shame*) We have all been guilty of this... especially when I was impoverished in the Big Apple and Payless Shoe Source was the only outlet I could afford.

When I shop for "fashionable" shoes these days, I tend to avoid pointed toes as a general rule (because I have freakishly long, mutant toes), but here's something I discovered about pricier shoes: the pointed toes are actually "fake." What I mean is, they're made longer than usual, so one's toes aren't really being crunched together into that tiny space. That's certainly the case with my new Malicia spiderweb boots, and with the stunning black Dior pumps I purchased for our wedding. The downside: most of us can't afford the high price tags for high-end heels. Those prices have recently gotten way out of hand, with some of the most famous designers charging over $1000. The Los Angeles Times recently reported that many consumers have "balked" at paying those prices. Um, ya think?

The good news for women who love their stiletto heels is twofold. First, several shoe manufacturers are coming out with "healthy high heels" with more air-cushioning. For example, the Massachusetts-based Insolia has designed a line of heels with weight-shifting inserts that shift body weight off the ball of the foot, with a shape that places feet in optimal position for a high heel, thereby improving body alignment and ankle stability -- while still making sure the shoes are attractive.

But there's even better news, according to this February 12 report: "High Heels Might Boost Your Sex Life."  The same unnatural posture that wrecks your spinal alignment can also tone your abdomen and pelvic floor, according to Maria Angela Cerruto, a urologist at the University of Verona in Italy. She tested 66 women under the age of 50 and found that if they stood with feet at a 15-degree angle -- achievable by wearing three-inch heels -- the pelvic muscles were more relaxed, making them stronger and easier to contract. To counter being pushed forward by the heels, women naturally tighten the abdominal muscles and push the pelvis under. Cerruto thinks this might mean that wearing heals could reduce the need for so-called "Kegel" pelvic exercises -- associated not just with reversing the toll of pregnancy, childbirth, extra weight and such on women, but also with improving sexual response/gratification. Manolo Blahnik, for one, is thrilled at the findings, no doubt with visions of dollar signs dancing in his head.

So there you have it: the science of shoes. The upshot is, be smart about your choices, but wear the styles you like, whether it be sexy stilettos, ballet flats, platform wedges, comfy Tevas, cowboy boots, or anything in between.  After all, ever since humans began wearing shoes, the accessory has been as much about status and fashion, as about practicality and comfort. The WaPo article quotes Elizabeth Semmelhack, curator at Toronto's Bata Shoe Museum, which has some 13,000 artifacts, including one that is nearly 4500 years old. "It's absolutely clear to me... when I look at cultures that impracticality is one of the primary features among the privileged" class, she said. And the rest of us seek to emulate the privileged class. Or perhaps, as Dawn once said in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it's just because "Everyone loves a slender ankle."

he said, she said

Ooh! Blog fight! Several folks over at ScienceBlogs are in a tizzy over a post by Razib at Gene Expressions, who expressed his surprise at encountering a hot young woman  (or, as he prefers to phrase it, "a smokin' chica") interested in science fiction at a wine bar recently. Shelley at Retrospectacle and Tara at Aetiology took umbrage at his thoughtless remarks, specifically the underlying assumption that a "hot female" can't or shouldn't be a certain way -- in this case, interested in something as geeky as science fiction. (P.Z. and the mysterious "Dr. Joan Bushwell" have also eloquently weighed in with their takes on the dust-up.)

On the whole, the discussion has been reasonably civil, but Razib rather predictably retreated into defensive mode, claiming he never said no such thing, and even if he did, it was taken out of context and besides, statistics would bear him out. So there. Razib's counter-argument might have been more convincing if he hadn't bragged in his own comment thread about having a "smokin' hot chica" all his own -- which in turn elicited the blogging equivalent of "high fives" from certain less-evolved male readers. *sigh*  Because everyone knows that having a hot girlfriend legitimizes one's manliness in a way a science degree never could. Jen-Luc Piquant thinks it's rather sad that a smart, talented guy like Razib is so insecure, he has to draw a big chunk of his self-esteem from the relative hotness of his girlfriend. He even commented on Tara's blog that seeing an attractive woman discussing science fiction in public "was a positive thing for me" -- a kind of social affirmation. That said, I think Razib is sincere when he claims to be confused as to why his comments have caused such a ruckus. There's a subtlety to the issue that young guys in particular seem to miss. Repeatedly.

The whole exchange reminds me of a conversation I had about a year ago with Kimba, one of my best friends, and a hardcore Geek Boy. One day I called him on a verbal tic: every time he mentioned one of his male friends in conversation, he'd feel compelled to toss in, "And his girlfriend's really hot, too." Kimba isn't sexist; he admires and respects intelligence in women, and has a heart of gold. So I expressed surprise at his constant knee-jerk commentary concerning the physical appearance of his pals' female companions. Why, I asked, was this at all significant to his male friends' overall worthiness? After all, the obvious implication is that attractive women are trophies that magically confer status and respect on the men who have them on their arms. Like Razib, Kimba's first response was to get defensive, profess his innocence, and insist I was misinterpreting his words. But eventually he admitted I had a point, and that he hadn't been aware of his own latent biases.

One reason it's tough for some guys to see this kind of thing, is that most of them haven't been subjected since birth to the "can't do" attitudes frequently directed at young girls and women. Every single one of us has some such tale. Girls play with dolls, not guns. Girls don't like math, or science. Girls aren't as good at sports (certainly not good enough to compete against men, even those who happen to be athletically gifted). Girls don't like drag racing/monster trucks/boxing, yadda, yadda, yadda. Or if they do, it's because they're freaks, or ugly, or in some way undesirable per the prevailing "norms" of popular society.

Invariably, the "can't do" attitude is accompanied by some argument of the "innate ability" variety: boys are just "naturally" more inclined to have certain interests, behave in certain ways, excel at certain subjects, and there are all kinds of "scientific studies" cited to back up these kinds of assertions. Apparently they're just innately better at everything, which is why a woman excelling in just about any male-dominated sphere is often met with disbelieving astonishment. Even the frickin' Discovery Channel store offers gender-specific Christmas gift guides, featuring science kits and erector sets for boys, and jewelry making, lip gloss and similar toys for girls.

These arguments and attitudes are nonsense, of course -- even Razib would agree. But then he shouldn't be surprised at the reaction his comments provoked. Don't go pushing that particular button, dude, unless you're prepared to face the consequences. Because we hear it over, and over, and over again, and after awhile, we just get sick of it. Gender stereotyping is real. It matters. And frankly, it really pisses us off, and occasionally spurs us to go on the warpath. As Tara wrote, "Maybe if society wasn't so generally negative about it when women do things that are typically associated with men (holy cow, there's a girl reading SF! Take a picture before she escapes!), women wouldn't feel so out of place doing it in the open."

Which is not to say geek boys don't suffer negative stereotyping and social stigmatization, too, particularly in high school -- ergo, the fascination with scoring a "smokin' chica" to validate themselves in the eyes of the world. In Razib's defense, there's nothing wrong with appreciating female (or male) attractiveness, and desiring an attractive partner. Let's face it, attractiveness matters to all of us to some extent. I have yet to hear anybody say of their partner, "Yeah, s/he is smart, funny, successful and a good person... if only s/he were uglier." Heck, even Wired runs an annual "sexy geeks" contest, although it's rather telling that the female candidates have racked up tons more votes than the male candidates. Clearly, it's the geek guys, not the women, who are most concerned with voting. Thank god for the always-fabulous SkepChicks, who keep things nicely balanced by offering both a SkepChick and a SkepDude calendar -- where else could we see Phil Plait naked?

Speaking of geeky attractiveness, tomorrow, December 15, is "Reveal Your Blog Crush Day" (hat tip to Angela Gunn). Here's your chance to confess the identity of your own favorite "smokin' hot" blogger -- of either gender. I jumped the gun a bit on that one; everyone already knows about my blog crush.

geek grrls: the next generation

Imagine, if you will, a young girl, stepping into her high school chemistry class for the very first time. She's one of those straight-A, over-achieving students, on track for class valedictorian. True, she's more of the reading and writing type, but she loved her biology class, even the required dissection of the fetal pig, which she had to perform pretty much single-handedly after her squeamish lab partner threw up (just from the sound of the breastbone cracking and spreading apart). In junior high, she thrilled to ancient fossils and archaeological digs; memorized the major constellations visible from her suburban backyard; and occasionally fantasized about being one of those science types who help solve crimes (she is also an avid mystery buff). So she's rather intrigued about what this chemistry stuff is all about, thinking it'll be more hands-on fun in the lab.

That young girl was me, more years ago than I'd care to admit. And unfortunately, that high school chemistry class was so bad, it turned me off all of science for the remainder of my formal education.  Gone were the nifty hands-on lab experiments that typified my earlier science classes, replaced by dry, droning lectures and a lot of meaningless number-crunching. It was all presented devoid of any contextual framework: I dutifully did as I was told -- indeed, I earned the only "A" in the class -- but frankly, I took away no lasting knowledge, apart from a vague definition of a "mole." I've been highly suspicious of the standard metrics for measuring academic success ever since. (Really, isn't the whole point of education to learn, not simply to rack up good grades?)

More importantly, I loathed every minute of that class. The chemistry teacher -- rather than admitting that perhaps his teaching approach might need some adjustment, if so many otherwise decent students were doing poorly in his class -- simply told us that we clearly weren't cut out for the hard sciences, and that if we hated chemistry, we would really hate physics. It filled everyone with trepidation about senior year, if not outright dread. Physics phobia set in early for most of us as a result of one teacher too proud to acknowledge his own shortcomings.

Things didn't improve with the one introductory astronomy course I took my freshman year of college.  It's astronomy! The stars! Galaxies! Supernova explosions and black holes! How is it possible to make that stuff boring? And yet somehow, the professor did. Again, the focus was on dry, uninspired lectures, made even worse by the fact that on the first day of class, he told us that he didn't give a damn about the course, or whether we learned anything. After all, we were only there to fulfill some stupid requirement, and why should he bother teaching those who would never become science majors?

One wishes such contemptuous attitudes were rare among science teachers and professors, but they're more common than one might think, especially in challenging fields like physics. The emphasis is often more on "weeding out" the chaff from incoming classes, rather than encouraging all students to at least learn some science. And we're paying the price with an ever-widening gap between scientists and the general public. The situation is even worse for young girls. Sure, there's a lot of ongoing debate and study about innate "gender differences," but it's the cultural prejudices that are most crippling. I certainly internalized the message at a very young age that girls just weren't as good at math and science. Even if teachers actively encourage young girls (which is not always the case), they are often ridiculed by their peers for their "unfeminine" interests if they admit they like science or math. (Classic line from the film Mean Girls: "You can't join the math club! It's social suicide!")

In short, it's tough being a budding Geek Grrl. So I was thrilled to learn that the Feminist Press is working with the National Science Foundation to produce a series of books to encourage junior high and high school girls to persevere in their nascent scientific pursuits. I had the pleasure of meeting the "team" of women working on the project: women of all ages and backgrounds, with one thing in common: all of us had some interest in science at an early age, that was summarily squelched. And now they're trying to prevent this from happening to up-and-coming generations.

That's why Cocktail Party Physics is taking a break from our usual gossipy scientific fare to publicize the Feminist Press' just-released call for proposals:

Girls and Science: Call for Proposals

The Feminist Press, in collaboration with The National Science Foundation, is exploring new ways to get girls and young women interested in science. While there are many library resources featuring biographies of women scientists that are suitable for school reports, these are rarely the books that girls seek out themselves to read for pleasure. What would a book, or series of books, about science that girls really want to read look like? That is the question we want to answer.

You’ll find several requests for specific proposals at our website. One calls for scientific detective stories based on the life, research, and discoveries of real women scientists. Another calls for stories featuring real young women—aspiring gymnasts, ice skaters, actors, dancers--using a knowledge of science to help them become really good at what they do. A third recognizes how popular Manga and graphic novels are with girls, and asks for imaginative new collaborations between Manga writers and artists to create adventures about girls who use real science to accomplish their goals. If any of these three book ideas interest you, please check out our website (www.feministpress.org) for more information about deadline and how to submit proposals.

But we do not want to limit our exploration. If you are a writer and have an idea for a book or series of books that is guaranteed to get girls excited about science, we want to hear from you. You may want to create a girl detective series featuring a set of friends—from geeks to sports nuts to mechanical geniuses—each with a knowledge of science that helps in solving crimes. You may want to create a story about a shy girl who goes on field trips with her favorite aunt, a forensic anthropologist, and helps to solve problems as she learns to think like a Dr. Bones. You may want to tell the story of a young science fiction writer who needs to study different fields of science in order to create her adventures. Whatever your vision, if you can write like a dream and can create works that are guaranteed to instill a curiosity about science in girls and young women, send us your proposals. We want to hear from you.

All proposals will be reviewed. Several proposals will be offered standard contracts.

Publisher: The Feminist Press at City University of New York as part of a National Science Foundation grant. (see feministpress.org)

Deadline: October 31, 2006

Format: Proposals should describe the project, the plot, characters, and length. No more than ten pages please.

How to submit: Electronic submission (word doc) to [email protected] with the subject line "Girls and Science." Please include in the body of your email your address, phone number, email address and a short bio. Please also attach a brief sample of your writing (about five pages), and a resume that includes information about publications.

I encourage our readers to pass this information on to any writers, or scientists aspiring to be writers, of their acquaintance. Let's not abandon all the young Geeklings coming up the pipeline, just when they need encouragement the most.