A few weeks ago I met a woman in her late 30s. Her face fascinated me. For the very first time I saw somebody who had things done to such an obvious degree. I was mesmerised. Her forehead, Botoxed to perfection, was so smooth and shiny that I could almost see my own reflection. The eyelashes “grew” in a way similar to teeth of a shark, in several layers. The lips were plumped – what I thought was a cold sore turned out to be collagen.
The face, struggling to produce any emotional outcome, was, in a way, perfect… I’d say, it was similar to something you could see in Tussauds Museum, only their works would have a better finish.
I took my time pretending to talk about nonsense, good enough to distract her, whilst secretly sampling the surgically made “perfection”. Every element that is often seen as a part of “ideal beauty” was there and yet, the beauty was missing.
It made me think, once again, why so many women voluntarily do it to themselves…
To me, watching my face age is a spellbinding experience. I may not be super ecstatic about every change that happens to it, although I haven’t experienced that many yet, but I do somehow enjoy the process.
I think every woman is naturally very beautiful and do love to observe bare faces and emotions whenever I can. I like wrinkles, I like young peachy skin and I love how it changes with age to become thinner, like a delicate rice paper. I absolutely adore freckles. I think a face without make up is gorgeous. And I like faces that move.
I truly understand that sometimes cosmetic surgery may be required because nature is not always kind to its creations or life throws one in a nasty accident, but I really don’t get it when women happily inject poison (and that’s what Botox really is) or go under the knife in order to allow somebody slice their face or body when, in reality, it is totally unnecessary.
I don’t believe in eternal youth – I think the most glamorous thing is being able to age gracefully, love your wrinkles and don’t give a damn about what the rest of the world is doing to their faces.
Just like Lauren Hutton said in her interview: "Our wrinkles are our medals of the passage of life. They are what we have been through and who we want to be." Personally, I’d rather stick with that quote. Kinda makes you feel free, doesn’t it?
Photo source: Lauren Hutton by Craig McDean, 2013