The myth of Beauty, Naomi Wolf, 1990
I once argued with a friend about a "beauty issue." We met for a walk in the city center, and she went into all the cosmetics shops. This may seem ordinary, the beginning of any stereotypical female afternoon all "shopping and gossip," but I have never been a shop lover. Instead of creams and lipsticks, I would have preferred a couple of beers. "Stop," I blurted out at a certain point. This stuff is a useless waste of time and money!"
My friend looked at me, astonished. "Like beer," she replied dryly. I was disappointed. I didn't expect her response, so I started trying to dismantle cosmetics by focusing on the fact that they make women feel inadequate, pit them against each other, reinforce the double standard, and represent yet another vain commitment that distracts from essential things. "And what would these essential things be?" my friend asked me, annoyed. "Go to the bar to chat?"
I would have liked to say yes, but it wouldn't have been functional to the discussion. "For me, make-up isn't about hiding defects, as you think," she continued. It's my way of expressing myself. I like wearing make-up;it's a kind of ritual. " This sentence made me think for a long time. With my comments and view of the world, I was condemning the cosmetics industry and unintentionally judging a friend.
Who was I to tell her what was best for her? Or what was best for everyone? I wondered if men have some "passion" equivalent to women's make-up. These are questions that everyone must answer on their own, maybe after reading Naomi Wolf.