Muscles & Mascara Monday: Truthful Statements

musclesmascara

“Style is fundamentally a truthful statement… There are layers and layers of truth; and style, whether in dress or life, art or literature, is involved in their discovery.” –Freya Stark

I have been thinking about makeup lately. I used to think that makeup was something women put a huge amount of time and money into to get the attention of men, who often don’t even bother to shave. O, patriarchy, why you so mean?

I am lucky enough to have clear skin and dark blue eyes so I always figured that if a guy needs me to “put on my face” simply to notice me, then he’s not a person I really feel like being noticed by. I still feel that the Manhattan style of makeup is over the top, but New York has always struck me as being a hard-edged city and maybe it’s just a form of protective coloration, layers of powder rather than a sword and buckler.

Boston, as an academic city (we’ve got thirty colleges just within a few miles of the city center) tends toward the mildly androgynous. We probably have more comfortable women’s shoes in just a five-mile radius than they have in Manhattan and Los Angeles combined. And women who work/teach at these colleges are not an exception, whether they are full-time, part-time or graduate students (and the undergrads in baggy sweatpants). This always worked for me. As long as I looked “professional” and teacher-like, I figured that nobody would care if I didn’t take the time to put on makeup before running out the door guzzling my coffee and trying to remember my lesson plan. I get good student evaluations every semester. The rest is meaningless.

But in January, I started going to the monthly lesbian happy hour, which is a fascinating sociological activity. Where else are you going to find a sample of about eighty women with such a wide variety of clothing styles in the same bad bar lighting? More than half of our sample look like any other women you might see on the train every day. But there are a few types who stand out.

Fashionista/International Femme: Makeup, long hair, dress, heels. An air of being exactly where she needs to be. Even if I wore the exact same thing, if I was standing next to her, no one would notice my existence. I have had friends like this.

Grad Student Femme: Shortish wash-and-wear hair. Casual clothing, such as skinny leg jeans. Comfortable shoes, minimal makeup. The glow of youth.

College Dean-ish: An excellent haircut, whatever the length. Makeup, but never too much. Classic jewelry. Professional clothes, more femme than not. Classic but comfortable shoes, probably expensive. An air of quiet authority.

Grad Student Butch: Short hair with a little product for style. No makeup. Men’s style clothes but not necessarily menswear. Comfortable shoes, maybe spiffy. The glow of youth.

Flannel Butch: Plaid flannel shirt, dark wash jeans, expensive sneakers. Most of the jewelry is in one ear. One or more tattoos. A. The glow of youth AND/OR B. An air of quiet authority AND/OR C. Laidback attitude.

Bowtie Butch: Short hair. No makeup. Menswear, including either necktie or bowtie. Men’s style shoes. Laidback attitude.

Perhaps if I saw the same people in the bright light of day, the differences might not be apparent. But in the dim light of a bar, the women who don’t wear makeup, especially if they are over 40, look kind of grey and washed out.

So I’ve made a couple of visits to Sephora, one to get help in picking a shade of lipstick and one to get a 15-minute primer on how to apply eye shadow the right way and get help picking good colors. The young women (and one or two men) who work there are all made up to within an inch of their lives. But when they ask me what style I am going for, and I say, “Sorta like Ellen,” and they say, “Oh! You mean natural!” they are gung ho in helping me achieve a look that is as little like theirs as possible.

My shift in thinking about all this is primarily a shift in thinking from more outward–what do other people see when they look at me–to more inward–can I see my best self when I look in the mirror, blue eyes, Polish cheekbones and all.

It also helps that two of the faces of makeup companies in recent memory have been Sarah Michelle Gellar (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and Ellen Degeneres (Ellen the Homophobia Slayer), both of whom have fresh light looks that don’t scream, “Look at me! I’m wearing makeup! Ask me how!” Which is funny, actually, considering that is exactly what they’re getting paid to do… Ah, marketing, why you so sneaky?

Trying Things On

germany-the-bookworm

In the last few weeks, I have ordered seven or eight pairs of shoes online. I fully expect to have to send half of them back for not fitting; I acknowledge that this is not the most efficient or environmentally responsible way to buy shoes, if simply having things in general to wear on my feet is my goal. But I think what I am really doing is playing with constituting my identity in a different way and that requires a specificity I can’t achieve by wandering through Marshalls or DSW and hoping I hit on something interesting and appropriate.

It feels very strange to be sorting out my identity with shoes. Normally, I use books. As a writer and English teacher, my normal destinations in moments of existential confusion are, first, the library, and second, the used/antiquarian bookstores.

According to LibraryThing.com, an online book cataloguing site, I have about 900 books, not counting cookbooks and cartoons. Like most bibliophiles, I have a very clear organization for my books, so I can generally lay my hands on whatever I am looking for in seconds: theology here, poetry over there, books on Joss Whedon’s oeuvre on the shelf above the books on bungalows and the Arts and Crafts movement, etc. Back in 2009 or so, I bought a copy of Carl Spitzweg’s “The Bookworm” (1850) to put up on one of my bedroom walls. This fellow is one of my inner archetypes, along with the woman warrior, and when I am trying to process how my life has changed every few years, I find myself rearranging my books, and I suspect to anyone watching, I probably look a bit like this.

Most of the shelves stay static. Books about writing or medieval history or science pretty much stay where they are. But I have two shelves that change on an irregular basis: the Writing Project in Process shelf and the Self in Process shelf. The former still carries a bunch of books about England and ancient Egyptian religion from a novel I tried to write two years ago. The other one has been undergoing some shifts since Tuesday morning when I stood there with my huge Christmas mug filled with overly creamed coffee feeling restless. (I was restless, not the coffee.) Out came the books on mystery writing and spycraft that were overflow from the Writing Project shelf. In went the following Very Odd Bibliography:

 

Connors, Roger, and Tom Smith. Change the Culture, Change the Game. New York: Penguin, 2011.

Earhart, Amelia. Last Flight. (1938). New York: Crown, 1988.

Levertov, Denise. The Poet in the World. New York: New Directions, 1973.

Mason, Philip. The English Gentleman: The Rise and Fall of an Ideal. New York: William Murrow, 1982.

Oliver, Mary. Blue Pastures. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1995.

Sennett, Richard. The Craftsman. New Haven: Yale UP, 1998.

Stark, Freya. Perseus in the Wind. New York: Transatlantic Arts, 1949.

 

It should be interesting to see what my little reading list leads to.