Even after 3 years in Korea, watching women whip out their make-up powders and patting their faces during a meal at a restaurant, I still couldn't get used to it. That was more than 10 years ago and I had almost forgotten this "cultural difference" until a few weeks ago when I was riding a crowded skytrain and saw a young woman putting on mascara and using that curling-scissor thingy to curl her eyelashes. And then it all came back to me.
In the building where I worked, it wasn't uncommon to ride the elevator with a young Korean woman accompanied by her mother on the way to the underground parkade. Hiding her face with a baseball cap, she had finally received her high school graduation present: Double eyelid plastic surgery. Apparently a very common procedure to look more westernized before starting university. When I graduated I got a camera.
Korean ladies are not alone in bonding over beauty talk. Being married to a Brazilian man, I cannot attend a social function without the Brazilian ladies comparing notes about where to get the cheapest manicure, and isn't it super expensive in Vancouver? and on and on... this misconception of mine that Brazilian women are naturally gorgeous, sun-kissed and healthy from dancing the samba on the beach was wrong. It takes work! Naturally! Stupid me.
As I was researching cultural differences in beauty, I fell upon British photographer, Zed Nelson's book, Love me. It has beautiful and disturbing pictures collected over 5 years across 17 countries of cosmetic surgeons, beauty queens, anorexics, body builders, night clubbers, housewives and soldiers. These photographs clearly display our collective obsession with beauty, social approval and the beauty industry that governs us. I don't claim not to be influenced by media and the beauty industry, sometimes I am, but honestly, I'm one of those girls who has one eyeliner. I wear some on special occasions and wipe it off 'cause it's old and it itches and makes me look like I've been crying from one eye. I don't own a blow dryer, or a lipstick or perfume. My daily beauty regime consists of a shower and a bit of blush to take attention away from the dark circles under my eyes. In the summer, I treat myself to one manicure/pedicure at the start of the warm weather and watch it disappear around Christmas.
Just this Friday, I went for my first manicure of the year at a little Chinese salon on Victoria Street. I took a deep breath as I spotted on the door a poster with different styles of lips and eyebrows you can have done with permanent marker (oops, I mean, make-up). I'll take the "Pretty Princess" lips and the "Happy Rainbow" eyebrows! That poster scares me.
At the entrance two over-sized, space, recliner, massage chairs for pedicures took up most of the space. Along one wall, there were shelves with dusty knickknacks, and posters about fat-sucking robot machines. Large photos of the 2011 Miss Chinese of Vancouver pageant winners posing with the shop owner were hung randomly around the room. The windows were crowded with dusty pink blinds, Christmas lights and security bars. The two young women who greeted me were wearing matching polyester smocks and flip flops. Why are so many salons who specialize in beautifying, so darn unappealing?
I quickly zoned out on the mix of bad spa music and the buzz of a broken indoor water fountain while my young manicurist painted my nails. One tendon snapping arm massage later, and a pretty decent manicure, I was charged only $16.05 including tax. Okay, so I'm comparing like my Brazilian friends, but that sure beats paying $25 on the westside.
So where am I going with this? I guess it's a personal reminder to continue to love my body and my enjoy my beauty quietly. To keep it simple. To have a bit of humor with the ridiculous lengths the beauty industry will go to make us feel inadequate and to not propagate our insecurities among each other. To focus on each other's smiles and stick flowers in our hair.
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| Me, my boy and my sister in law looking good in Cabo Frio, Brazil |
