In the last four years, I’ve dyed my hair super-platinum blonde (so white that I regularly used blue shampoo), a Joan Holloway red and, a new to me, brown. It has been cut short and asymmetrical, into a variety of bobs with and without bangs and is currently long, now on its way past my shoulders (I’m having dreams of crazy-long mermaid lengths and I keep trying my hand at Boardwalk Empire updos). I’ve worn all black and grey, boyish clothes, nothing but dresses, a bright red cloche, a long faux-fur coat, La Dolce Vita inspired dresses or pencil skirts, Jean Seberg gamine stripes, a 70s huge floppy black hat, skinny jeans, wide leg jeans, Annie Hall-inspired menswear and, more recently, denim cut-offs worn with tights and heels. I wear makeup every day, sometimes red lipstick or flicks of liquid black eyeliner. I can’t be bothered with painting my nails, but I regularly paint my toenails black or red, even during the winter. I am, in short, kind of fancy.
While reading Heather’s excellent post yesterday about the ever-moving mark of beauty and youth in our culture (where the dominant message is that you, just as you are, are never good enough and there is always a product/ diet/ procedure that can bring you closer to perfection), I thought about, as I have so many times before, whether my propensity for hair dye and dramatic clothes is any different from someone who decides to put themselves under the surgeon’s scalpel. Certainly, there is a matter of degree, risk and expense that shouldn’t be dismissed, but at the end of the day, the woman who gets herself injected with Botox or gets a boob job is manipulating her appearance and expressing something about how she feels on the inside with how she looks on the outside, just as I am.
I have long thought that the willingness to spend tons of money and time grooming or getting surgery is born of a desire to control outcomes, to dictate the potentially unpredictable vicissitudes of desire and power associated with beauty in our culture. The female body is used as a symbol of purity and sex, blamed for causing uncontrollable lust and used to sell everything under the sun. If you happen to be born in a female body, it is likely you will be subjected to a high level of scrutiny — from mothers, grandmothers, friends, boyfriends, teachers and dudes you pass just walking down the street. It is no wonder to me that women are anxious about beauty and want to take control of their bodies and their presentation to the world — sometimes by opting out entirely and sometimes by trying to conform to every beauty standard that arises.
To some extent, I have tried to do both. When I began to develop breasts, at the tender age of nine, I was so mortified and confused that I went into a long period of hiding, which I documented here. I have sometimes used hair dye and clothing as armour against expectations, a way to assert that I had no interest in being beautiful or conforming. At other times, I have dieted like crazy and followed ladymag advice as though it was a secret code that could open the elusive world of beauty and feeling good about myself. In the short-term, all of those methods have worked, but none of them brought a lasting sense of comfort in my own skin.
We are taught that beauty is exclusive and rare; something that exists in fairy tales and at the end of makeovers, but the truth is that beauty is everywhere, in a variety of places, shapes, sizes and ages, we just have to open our eyes to see it. When I opened myself to the abundance of beauty in the world, it helped me find it in myself, which, in turn, has helped me relax and learn to see my body and appearance in a more balanced way. Even more, it allowed me to see my body with compassion, as a tool that supports my life. I have noticed that my experience parallels many of my friends who have come into their 30s with a new sense of respect for and security about their bodies. Most of our bodies have changed, they’ve aged or widened, some have been ravaged by bearing children, yet we still feel better in our bodies, more at home.
I still like to use my appearance as a means of expression, but I am no longer trying to express — “Please, please, please find me beautiful!” or “You don’t think I’m beautiful, see if I care! “Or “Please, don’t see me, I don’t think I can take it.” When I dress like I’m a member of The Bloomsbury Group or in Annie Hall, it is because those things inspire me. When I dye my hair, it is because I think it is fun, a way to keep myself from taking it all so seriously. I recently came across this short film on the fashion website Nowness and felt like I had found my people — women of a certain age (admittedly, a little older than me, but I’m an old soul) who are using color and fashion to express themselves rather than submitting to unrealistic or harmful notions of beauty.
Advanced Style: Age and Beauty on Nowness.com.
It’s not a perfect formula, sometimes I lose my way and feel thrown by compliments or criticism, clinging to the one and despairing at the other. But, moving to the center of my own experience has helped me find a sense of play and grace in my appearance and moved it away from the center of my thoughts. I think the question is not whether or not we support or scorn plastic surgery, makeup or hair dye, but how we can create a world where getting dressed can be a means of expression and a woman’s power comes from more than the way she looks.
I love the video! And, I think you hit the nail on the head in how our appearance gives us the opportunity to express ourselves. It says so much about whether or not we see beauty in ourselves, whether we buy into and believe the current cultural beauty norms around us, whether we value originality, and really importantly – whether we are confident in our own skin.
I fall right in between the Fancies and the Not-Fancies. Some days I get to work and realize I haven’t a stitch of make up on (woops!) and it’s no biggie. I love boots and cargo pants and old tank tops and most of all, I LOVE comfort. I also love the creativity of changing my hair, shopping for shoes, looking through vintage dresses. If I dress for my mood, I’m almost always in the cargo pants or jeans, but I have a ton of fun in my vintage hat and jewelry collections, and I’m not afraid to wear them!
I loved that video. I am certainly not one to dye their hair. I have an aversion to time consuming tasks that require another step later. Plus I saw my mom dye her hair dark brown for YEARS and then all the sudden become allergic to hair dye and have to stop. In stopping her white hair had to grow out with the dark hair staying. It looked ridiculous. I just let the gray grow out. YET I really hate fussing with hair and have said for years that I would prefer to be bald and wear a wig occasionally if I wanted hair, but I NEVER did it. THEN, the other day, I just got tired of even the thought of having to get to a hair dresser to get my hair cut so I took the buzzers and buzzed it off with the 1″ attachment. I look a bit like Jamie Lee Curtis AND my hair takes less than a minute to deal with everyday. I love it. Definitely NOT the norm around these parts but it is as much a statement as those using color. My statement is “The easier the better, period. No matter what others think.”
I love this Gail. Surgery, no surgery. Makeup, no makeup. Fancy, not fancy — I don’t think it matters (or that the binaries we create to describe the world are all that accurate). What matters is women feeling at home with themselves.
I started a comment on Heather’s post that got eaten, but Heidi’s comment about the binaries reminded me that I was thinking along those lines. Heather touched on it with the ‘natural childbirth/all the drugs they’ll give me’ binary, but I’ve seen it played out a thousand ways- crafty/not crafty, etc. So many women, especially young women it seems, define themselves along these binaries. As we get older and hopfully wiser, we can see that we aren’t so different than the woman who had the natural birth or the woman who dyes her hair or the woman who makes her own whatever. We can start to appreciate what we have in common as well as what different experiences we’ve had.
That video tells it all. And makes me want to go shopping for some really fun glasses.
“I still like to use my appearance as a means of expression, but I am no longer trying to express — “Please, please, please find me beautiful!” or “You don’t think I’m beautiful, see if I care! “Or “Please, don’t see me, I don’t think I can take it.”” Love this idea.
My idea of self-expression through fashion came back to haunt me this morning. My four-year-old got herself dressed for school in a crazy outfit and I tried to get her to change. She started to whine and my husband said, “You can’t tell her how to dress, let her express herself,” and she said, “Yeah Mom, let me spreth myself.” She wore her crazy outfit.
I’m so glad you let her spreth herself, Heidi.
We’ve had many of those conversations over the last 14 years over here as well. I cringe at time, but they pretty much have always worn whatever they picked out. It seems like a pretty small thing to offer as a parent.
:) The irony wasn’t lost on me. I agree, letting kids wear what they want is a small thing.
It is on mornings like those that I really want to make a button that says, “I dressed myself.” I haven’t, but sometimes I still feel like telling the stranger in the grocery store, yep, my little Drew got dressed all by himself. I guess I feel that the appearance of my kids is a reflection on me. This stranger should be able realize that I didn’t dress him, but then, I have met the kind that have asked me if I realized that his pants are on backwards.
As for me? I had a cute sister growing up. So, I aspired to be smart. I still feel that cute is way out of my grasp. So, my fashion aspiration boils down to not looking frumpy. With expectations like those I obviously don’t spend too much time on it, much to my sister’s disappointment, still. But, if I can feel put-together and not homely, I feel pretty successful.
Love your post and the artistic way you express yourself. Beautiful! Inside and out!
Hinged – I’m all for letting my kids dress themselves, in theory. Yet when my Drew (a girl) comes down every day in some God-awful blend of mis-matched clothes and I gently try to lean her into something less horrific, she very confidently puts me in my place. “I like it this way. It looks great!” Her 1st grade teacher told me, “I love that Drew is her own person. She’s not influenced by those around her”. Tacky clothes are a small price to pay for authenticity, I guess! Power to the Drews.
Same for two of my kids. My Marin (who just turned 11) used to put together weird bohemian outfits–mitmatched socks, weird accessories (and she is ALL about the accessories), things ill-suited for the weather, etc. But she would respond similarly to Drew.
Stuart does the same–he wore a pair of pink socks under his pants when he got baptized a couple weeks ago. I don’t know who could see them (or whether anyone could see them), but I loved knowing that he chose those socks.
Hinged, I am lucky enough to know that beautiful inside and out is a good description of you and that women don’t have to pick between being beautiful, smart, kind, ambitious or creative (all words I’d use for you).
And, you have to imagine Heidi’s 4 year old exprething herself in a very proper British accent. :)
Oh, Heidi, do your kids speak with British accents? Even though y’all don’t?
Yes and no. They sound very British to American ears, but still a little American (or Canadian) to British ears. And, it depends on who they’ve been hanging out with. Very British when they come home from school, less of an accent over the weekend. :)