“HE HAD LOOKED WORSE. HE HAD LOOKED BETTER. IF HE HAD BEEN A WOMAN, HE AT LEAST COULD HAVE IMPROVED HIMSELF WITH MAKEUP.” thinks Vince Leone, a character in Tami Hoag’s DEEPER THAN THE DEAD, as he examines his face in the mirror one morning.
For several weeks now, I wondered how I’d cover the material in Ruth Brandon’s UGLY BEAUTY (HarperCollins 2011). Reading fiction for fun, I came across this line and it felt like an apt opener for this article.
As I read Vince’s thoughts, it occurred to me that women might see makeup as a boon. When we’re feeling poorly, we can spruce up with a little eyeliner or shadow to enhance or mask tired eyes. We can add color to our faces with blush or lipstick. If we have a cold and an important meeting, we can alter our appearance so we look what we’d refer to as “better.” Yet, cosmetics may also feel like a requirement for some women. We may stand before the mirror in the morning with a small fabric case on the vanity or sink and sigh at the thought of “painting” our face that morning. We might wonder as we lean forward to spread mascara along each lash what we’re doing and why.
When we look at the paint and pigments used by women and men historically, such as war paint or the cosmetics it appears were used in early Egypt, we see a long history of using color to change appearances. At the same time, we may lament the social pull we feel to use makeup or feel like we’re really bucking the system if we choose not to use it. Who and what do we support when we purchase a brand of makeup? There are so many “natural” and “cruelty-free” lines of makeup these days, that even those focused on environmental causes and animal rights can find a way to satisfy our penchant to avoid negative environmental and animal impact while still coloring our eyes and lips.
UGLY BEAUTY, Brandon’s book, explores the history of the cosmetics industry through the lives of Helena Rubinstein and Eugene Schueller, whose legacy is still a household name worldwide in the form of L’Oreal. L’Oreal bought Helena Rubinstein’s empire after her death, and thus her company continues under the umbrella of L’Oreal’s products. Brandon compares and contrasts Rubinstein and Schueller’s lives and motivations. Schueller was a chemist first, the son of poor parents, who made good on the educational opportunity he was lucky enough to have. Rubinstein was one of those women who were far ahead of her time, who sought a life in the world of business and industry. During her lifetime, most industries were closed to women. However, cosmetics was an industry where women could find work. Since women consume most of the lotions and makeup in the market, it made sense that a woman owned her own company in such an industry.
The ugly truth behind the makeup and cosmetics industry is that at some level it has always sought to exert social control over women, even while it purports to help women by providing working opportunities, self-care and self-confidence. For Rubinstein, she saw the world of cosmetics as an opportunity for women to work outside the home—for them to pursue careers. At the same time, the claims made on her product labels and in advertising were the same sorts of claims one might expect to find by anyone selling the proverbial “snake oil” from a roadside cart. Even the ingredients were not to be trusted, since labeling was not regulated as it is now. Schueller’s forays into cosmetics focused on safer hair dyes. While safety may be a noble pursuit, in a small way, it of course perpetuated a continuing pressure for women to color their hair. Politically, Schueller was aligned with the Nazi party at one point, and expressed his ideal society as one in which women were homemakers while men pursued the worlds of work and industry. He went so far as to write and publish these views, and enacted policies wherein an employee’s pay was based on whether he lived up to Schueller’s ideals within his personal life.
It is interesting to consider makeup as opportunity for women. It simultaneously creates social expectations even while it provides income. When I consider flexible jobs like Avon or Mary Kay sales, these jobs are key for a lot of women who would otherwise not be able to raise families as they desire while still providing needed family funds. Then again, the consumerism that this promotes and the pressure to have the latest wrinkle cream or shade of eye shadow is itself more pressure on women. Couple all of this with the philanthropic and public-service-type messages some of their products support, and we find ourselves unable to ignore the hype. Brandon notes that even today, Rubinstein’s legacy of cosmetics providing a working life for women has not been continued in management of makeup companies. Just ten percent of cosmetics companies, like all other companies, have female CEOs. The same holds true for cosmetic surgeons, who are also about ninety percent male. While women may sell cosmetics, not very many are in decision-making or policy positions at these companies.
The lives lead by Helena Rubinstein and Eugene Schueller are as fascinating as their biographies are told in UGLY BEAUTY. The fact that we also see the dawn of a new era in cosmetics in this book adds yet another dimension. There were plenty of controversies and the author also covers the new pharmacological cosmetics and plastic surgery industries. We’re left with a lot of questions to ask ourselves as readers and as women. While I’ve written in past articles about my refusal to use hair color, I don’t typically even go to the beach or hiking without applying eye liner, and I carry a certain shade of pink lip color in my purse at all times.
Are cosmetics a boost or bane, in your opinion? Do you use makeup? If so, why? And, if not, why not? Share your thoughts and comments with inContext readers so that we may continue this discussion.
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