Skin deep

Beauty. What is beauty, anyway? Since I was a little kid, beauty has mostly been defined by cosmetics companies, fashion designers, advertisers and marketing specialists—defined to sell products. My mother, who loved to read magazines and watch movies, had her own definition of beauty and mostly it was focused on slim women who looked good in designer clothing. Although Mom didn’t spend hours getting ready in the morning (she was one Mom against seven kids), she didn’t often face the day without a swipe of lipstick and a splash of eau de toilette. Women had it tough in the forties, fifties and sixties. They were expected to look like June Cleaver and be as fit as Bonnie Prudden. Between diaper changes, s u m p – p u m p restarts, dish washing and hanging the clothes out to dry, my Mom often “worked out” with Bonnie or rushed through her version of the 5BXs while waiting for the pressure cooker to cool down. Even though Mom was a petite person, she almost always wore some kind of body armour/ foundation garment, created by Playtex or Maidenform, to smooth out her nearly non-existent bumps and bulges and control her “jiggle.”

By the time I was 16, I’d been told more than once, I wasn’t anyone’s definition of a beauty. Sisters and moms can be harsh, dontcha know. I didn’t usually wear makeup. I struggled to keep my wild hair under control. As far as fashion was concerned, I didn’t know Bobbie Brooks from Mary Quant or Coco Chanel. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly a slouch, I just didn’t spend a lot of time in front of a mirror. I did, however, have two older sisters whose goal it was to try to straighten my hair, cover my freckles with liquid foundation, brighten up my baby blues with eye shadow and lengthen my lashes, not to mention controlling and accentuating my wobbly and bouncy bits. I was a force to be reckoned with. Every time I left the house I had to pass muster. First by “the sisters,” then, my Mom. Eventually, the sisters moved out on their own, only popping into my life to tell me what to wear to proms, Friday night dances and weddings; Mom just gave up on my beautification, seemingly content with my “good posture,” my good marks in school and my peculiar penchant for expensive Italian leather shoes. Only occasionally, Mom raised an eyebrow of concern when I came home from a Yorkdale adventure.

Zoom ahead to the 2000s. I’m as concerned about our lust for beauty and fashion as I ever was. Personally, I’m still about what’s comfortable when it comes to clothing and shoes. I’ve been known to wear mascara and lip gloss but still don’t understand the concept of liquid foundation, “mattefying,” total coverage for my freckles and spots and diminishing my unsightly pores. I guess I’m a beauty-gene deficient. I do know, since 2004, the world’s third largest consumer goods manufacturer has been on a mission to honour the beauty in all of us, or so they say. Since the vast majority of their products are beauty-related it’s a bit like the tobacco industry backing lung cancer studies. In eight years they’ve populated their website with hints about how to “dress sexy for any size” because sexy only comes to the party in a size 00 or, at the very least, looking like an eight.

My personal favourite suggestion from their website is “how to transform your hair from frizzy to fabulous.” It’s just as I’ve always suspected, frizzy isn’t fabulous in the real world. Great Big Corp also makes suggestions on how to “get visibly more beautiful in six weeks.” Almost without exception, the images of women on their website, and in their print and television advertisements are flawless beauties with bright white, even smiles, glossy, straight hair and smooth, unblemished complexions. You’d have to dig deeply to find their “rogue’s gallery” of images to find ordinary women with all of the bumps, blips and blisters. Yet, they proclaim their mission to be to encourage parents and caregivers in the fostering of self-esteem in young women by playing games, singing songs, writing thank-you notes to people who’ve inspired them and, what a surprise, turning the family home bathroom into a beauty spa—of course—using beauty products from their own line. All of the commercial talent on air, in print and online are slim women. There are images of women and girls who are deemed to be overweight, but they are subtly presented as the negatives. Anyway, you get the picture. MegaBeautyCorp has had eight years to create a mission and, from what I can tell, women all over the world are still being fooled into believing beauty is only skin—cleansed, and slathered with their products—deep.

Hey, you! Ya, you. You’re a real you. You don’t need anyone’s permission, or products, to be beautiful.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca