© Pierre Maré,
2004 - 2007
Offbeat 23
I am not very enthusiastic about looking after myself. That being said, I note with some amazement that I use two different types of shampoo, normal soap, a deep cleansing facial scrub, moisturizing shaving cream (preferably the gel version) and a moisturizing skin lotion for men. I don’t know where all this crept in: not so long ago I believed that shaving cream was for wimps with too much time on their hands.
There is nothing quite as entertaining or as depressing as the dogma of the fashion Nazis. Ecclesiastes 3, my favourite part of the Bible, reads, ‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the sun.’ The men’s magazine at the local supermarket checkout reads, ‘It’s summer. Here’s a shopping list of must-haves to keep you looking good for the beach.’ Whatever happened to the stunning good lookers in skimpy bikinis?
It would be nice to think that given our current level of cognitive development, we could prioritise evolution. As a species, we might choose to develop our common intellectual capabilities, solve all the world’s problems and find a way to get on with each other. Unfortunately it hasn’t turned out that way. Apparently it’s appearances that are still the overriding priority.
There is a story that when the Romans first attempted to invade Britain in 55 BC, Celtic warriors tattooed or painted with blue woad, lined the cliffs of Dover, presenting such a fearsome sight that the mighty Roman legions fled in search of another place to make their landing. Such is the power of appearances.
Masks and cosmetics have been with us for a long time. Their uses have been, and still are, to intimidate, impress, beautify and camouflage.
Not so long ago, psychologists, psychiatrists, self-help book authors and talk-show hosts picked up on the topic of masks. To a man (and a woman), the gist of their discussion went that in order to maintain mental and spiritual well-being people needed to drop their masks and show their true selves. Fortunately, it was just another fashion.
At that stage, I was still a teenager and trying to find where I fitted into society. Not being skinny, muscular athletic or anything that resembled the flower of youth, I needed something else to define myself, for my own purposes and to others. Dropping the mask did not work: nobody is interested in depth of emotion when drinking or womanizing.
Stepping into employment yielded a similar experience. After learning to some extent what was expected of me socially, I had to learn that this appearance was probably not the right choice for a business meeting. The new façade involved cause and effect, always related to money. Marriage followed and so did fatherhood, both with their own unique masks.
In my experience the mask has a very important place in society. Those who don’t wear masks, who openly display their true emotions and desires all seem to live on the streets, begging for small change that will inevitably end up as a bottle of something noxious to help them hide from the misery of not being accepted. And then there is the content of whatever serves for a local jail.
Society, the phenomenon of groups of people living in close proximity, requires that we present some reasonable façade. The alternative, living amongst people who irritate the living daylights out of you, all the time, is too horrible to contemplate. Imagine if that irritating receptionist didn’t bother to smile as she told you everything you want is absolutely out of the question.
With every addition and improvement to our nature – learning, money, possessions, plastic surgery or simple cosmetics – we refine our masks to improve our appearances to others and differentiate ourselves within social strata.
I still dress a bit like a tramp, albeit in ironed clothes. The addition of glasses gives me the semblance of an eccentric intellectual. Thanks to my mask I am generally acceptable. Never let your mask slip too far. The results could be ugly in more ways than one.
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