Jezebel 
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New York, 6:07 PM
Sun Nov 29
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11/23/09
Including celebrities that you know a little about, but don't truly love the way you would a favorite musician or author or director.
I have intense affection and admiration for Lou Reed, Wayne Coyne, Steven Drozd, Daniel Johnston, Ani Difranco, John Waters, Mos Def, Kimya Dawson, Michel Gondry, John Cameron Mitchell, and Courtney Love. And because I love their work and who they are as human beings, I see them all as physically beautiful, unequivocally. I have been in the physical presence of a few of them, and was even more captivated by them in person. They were more physically beautiful in real life than they were with the help of professional photographers. But I know that someone who knew nothing about them wouldn't see them the same way. They might think they're all pretty funny looking people, with wrinkles, gray hair, weird facial features, imperfect teeth, bad haircuts, out of shape bodies, silly clothes, and whatever else is considered an "ugly" trait. And I'd probably admit that those things are there, if someone pointed them out to me. But that's never what I see. I see their love, their passion, their quirks, their voices, their obsessions, and their unique genius that makes me love them more than I could ever love conventional beauty on it's own, for it's own sake.
And it's the same with people I know. I remember meeting friends for the first time, and how weird or bland they used to look to me. The ones that were immediately attractive didn't keep looking the same once I got to know them, and even if I still think they're gorgeous, I don't see them as the person I thought they were. The ones that didn't initially stand out as striking, I now recognize, and they seem extremely distinct, unique, vibrant, nuanced, and beautiful. As much as who a person is and what they're about, the way they move affects how they appear, and you can't get a sense of someone's mannerisms until you've observed them long enough to stop noticing all of the little ways that they do things and form the parts into a complete, seamless identity.
Sometimes Myspace will show me "people you may know" that I went to High School with, but wasn't particularly close to. I saw them every day, and knew who they were, but I haven't thought about them in years, until their face pops up on the internet unexpectedly. Obviously, they've grown up, and their default picture is current. And I can tell that it's them, but I don't see the asshole that sat across from me in English anymore, and I can really see them for the first time since we both were little kids. And they're funny looking! That's not what I thought they looked like! How did I never see them this way? How could I not notice their weird nose or their goofy smile? They look like a collection of features, and they're completely alien, like a stranger. It's the same person it always was, but I don't know them anymore. Maybe they've changed, and I lost track, or maybe I just forgot. But now they're an anonymous someone that I used to know, and I'm very aware of the difference between the two ways I can see them.
When I look at a model, or an actor in a photoshoot, I'm seeing a particular image on a particular frame... I see whatever look they're going for, and I see their physical appearance as a collection of pieces, each with a cultural value in terms of idealized beauty. Nice skin, +1. Too much facial hair, -2. Cool hat, +3. Stupid t-shirt, -6. Then I compare myself to them... do I have nice skin? The right amount of hair? A cool hat? Is my t-shirt stupid? If I come up short, it doesn't matter if my smile is charming, how I move my eyebrows when I talk, or if I have an interesting vocabulary, because what people who know me see when they look at me isn't part of the equation. Nobody stands around with their hand on their hip with their Sexyface looking back over their shoulder all day, but that's what's photographed. So that's the standard. And my attractiveness is measured by my ability to look good doing that thing that nobody does, because if I look good then, it means I look good period. And you can't pull it off if you've got too many "flaws". You can't do pouty lidded-eye Marilyn Face if you've got thin lips and "inadequate or not enough" eyelashes and your nostrils flare up when you pout... so your lips and eyelashes and nostrils are keeping you from being beautiful. Even though if you made that face in real life you'd look so dumb nobody would notice whether or not you can do it right.
There are certain celebrities that I look obnoxiously similar to, and seeing pictures of them has helped me realize that things I see as flaws in myself can look good, even if they keep me from looking certain, more common types of "good". I have big mouse ears, and I used to cover them with my hair, but now I know how to wear my hair to show them without them screaming "WE ARE BIG EARS LOOK AT US!" The same with my chin, which used to keep me from smiling certain ways, and my neck that caused me to avoid wearing my hair up, and my lips that turn down and smile out instead of up, and are shaped like an M instead of a perfect little heart.... and so on. And having an option for "beautiful" that's within my range of possibility has made me more comfortable with myself. But someday those girls will age, and if I have to see them torn apart for it, I know it will hit close to home for me. But I remind myself that the only people who tell me I look just like so-and-so are the people who don't know me, and can't really see me fully. Those who can, don't see big ears or a big chin or a weird neck or funny shaped lips or any of that, because, big/weird/funny shaped compared to what? They're MY ears, chin, neck, and lips, and they're only important because they help me hear and chew and hold my head up and smooch people. When I start getting wrinkley and gray, the people who know me won't see an Old Fart, they'll see me, just a little more wrinkly and a little bit grayer. The rest of the world can't really see me anyway, so what they think of my appearance doesn't even apply to me.
The pictures, though, will always present a challenge: Can YOU do this? And as time goes on, I'll have to answer "no, I can't" to more and more of them. But most of the people I consider truly beautiful can't compete in that game already. So it's Monopoly money, you can't really buy anything with it other than imaginary land. And I don't even want to own imaginary land in the first place. And the game costs real money and NOBODY EVER WINS THE INVISIBLE PRIZE.
11/23/09
11/23/09
Oh, sorry. Distracted from your (very profound) point there.
(My lovely tennis boys are playing the Masters Cup this week. I'm not terribly responsible for what I say.)
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They're both worrying about physical appearance, but I consider one wholly different from the other.
11/23/09
11/19/09
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11/16/09