•08• for looking pretty | pa’ viéndome bonito•
Thanks to @jessicadefino, for her post and making me think of why I believe it’s fine to wear “a mask” to look and feel better… I wear mine well.
Credits: @giovannaphotography
I was born and raised in a culture where looking good is de rigueur. In general, we put on lipstick before putting on underwear. I'm Venezuelan. Like Carolina Herrera. At least for my generation looking our best has been written in stone with a lipstick. None of my three daughters carries the tradition though; one by one, they left the country soon after our authoritarian regime du jour took hold of our soul. Neither wears any daily makeup beyond sunscreen and some lipgloss. At best…
I studied in NYC at the time of Capote’s Swans and the hippies. I loved walking into Bloomie’s or even better, Bergdorf Goodman’s sanctum santorum cosmetic department. It was Alibaba’s fascinating cave of glittering jewels for me. But even though I was just a teenager and didn’t run with said Swans, I did wonder who on earth bought those colorful fragrant treasures, if the hippies were far from wearing makeup and some even walked around without showering and barefoot in Manhattan.
Looking good, is not only to feel good, of course. But to mask (pun intended) any bad feelings going on under our Charlotte Tillbury Flawless Foundation and Pat Mc Grath Divine Rose Cream Blush. As a CranioSacral and Somato Emotional Release Therapist with a 22 year working experience, I can vouch that almost always, the better my patients looked, the worse they felt.
I’ve loved my k beauty lotions and potions protocols, face oil massage, and carefully applied makeup as part of my femininity & security blanket forever. I loved watching my mother get ready for a night out, sitting at my abuelita’s marble and bronze dressing table, all those pots and flasks contained magic. Nowadays it contains my perfumes and family photographs. Putting on “ my face” makes me look good and feel better. It's the mask of a courageous warrior. I will not be dragged down by a series of unfortunate events. Nunca jamás!! My mom would be proud that all her nagging took absolute hold over me. "Never leave home without at least your lipstick on, otherwise you look like a corpse”. Oh yes, who wants to look like one before its time? Nowadays I even use lipstick at home. Definitely lipstick is better than garlic and silver crosses to fend off the inevitable. In the meantime? Skincare with anti-aging Senolytics.
Nowadays I'm caregiving my beloved husband for several comorbidities + vascular dementia, if you could see me now, I’m looking better than Grace Coddington for Merit Beauty’s ad. My blushed, mascaraed, lipsticked face looking back at me in the mirror gives me hope to carry on, beyond the fear and pain of seeing my husband dissipate daily. A mirage illusion, a trick for my mind and heart.
Women and men of different cultures have used makeup, kohl, perfumed oils, lotions and potions since the beginning of time, without having to justify themselves. So why would I? Sei Shönagon in her 999 of the CE “Pillow Book”, disparages against some court ladies for not wearing their faces adequately powdered, shuddering at the sight, as some patches of the real texture of their skin show through " like patches of dirt showing through melting snow".
Maybe if women of my generation don't have our "Braveheart" masks on we’d feel vulnerable, naked to our own and other's eyes? If we subjectively "look good" we feel confident, assertive, invincible. Without said mask, we are skinless showing what we don't want others to see. Even ourselves.
Some aboriginal cultures, decorate their skin in various ways, some with elevated scar patterns snaking over their bodies, others, use less invasive methods like my own E'ñepá indigenous peoples, who use either a thin wooden rod, or carved wooden blocks to decorate their skin. Square or rectangular for males, always circular for females. They prepare a photosynthesizing paste of beeswax, annato and mashed caruto seed which becomes dark navy or black when they go out in the sun. They have to keep periodically re doing it, after they wash in the rivers, exfoliating with the silt.
When I asked one of the men, why was he stamping himself with what seemed invisible ink, he looked at me unbelieving, as if I was daft…"Pa' viéndome bonito" (for looking pretty, duh!)
One could ask the same of clothes. Why do we even bother with fashion since Eve wore her fig leaf to part with Paradise? Guessing that in our culture in general, and in my case in particular, it's like war paint, or to scare or fool ‘the other’ into thinking we are more courageous than we feel.
Easy for me to accept it, because, in my culture beauty and looking good (we have 7 Miss Universes under our belts) are tantamount to "feeling good". Asking myself, why would I give the schadenfreude crowd that surrounds me, any satisfaction? I wear my mask well.
Like Sei Shōnagon's 999CE lists and observations about the Heian court life, when she wrote aghast at seeing the texture of their skin showing through their badly applied face powder. Or the delightful feeling she describes, of washing her hair and wearing perfumed robes when a gentleman caller is at her door.
Me?
I am right there with you, sister…
Exactly!! You have captured the essence of my meaning. It's our way of self care and hugging ourselves in the face of grieving and the dark tunnel.
I appreciate this, Janine.
I remember the days of getting suited, booted, and putting my war-paint makeup on to feel confident for boardroom presentations. When I was caring for Dad with his multitude of comorbidities, my body and spirit felt absorbed into the doing of caregiving until I had a few days of respite—an extension of arms and legs doesn't have a face for makeup.
In respite, out of gym clothes, I'd apply makeup and literally salute my image to welcome its re-emergence.
These days makeup is basic but still, a veneer until I have a few days to myself