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Beauty Rituals: U.S. vs. France
Paris helps one woman lose her inhibitions
by Rory Satran
Henna adorns Indian women’s hands, rose oil is massaged into the skin of Moroccan ladies, and we American chicks swear by dousing our hair in vinegar to keep it shiny. As an American living in Paris for the past five years, I had grown acutely aware of my attachment to my own homespun beauty rituals, but I didn’t realize just how profoundly they influenced my worldview until recently, while watching a film.
The movie in question was Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi’s autobiographical graphic novel-turned-film (in American theaters Dec. 25) about her lost Iranian childhood. What entranced me was the way beauty customs seemed to signify the divide between the heroine’s Iranian heritage and her European upbringing. The ultimate symbol of her lost memories of Iran: an image of her grandmother removing the bra she keeps filled with jasmine flowers, the petals floating gracefully to the ground.
All the way home, I mused about how our vision of womanhood is inextricably linked to our culture: After an illfated four-year romance with a Parisian man, I was only starting to pierce the intricacies of what it meant to be French. But my time here had revealed an alternative version of sensuality.
When I arrived in the City of Lights as a starry-eyed student, I fell hard for Monsieur X, leading me to relocate to France permanently, piss off my mom, and sign off on Yankee guys forever. I was the American girl and he, the slightly louche Frenchman with more than Godard on his mind.
We cuddled, danced, talked, traveled, and two years later, moved into a little apartment near the Bastille. But well before the arguable bliss of domesticity came the First Valentine’s Day. Remember the scene in Annie Hall when Annie opens a package from Alvy containing a black lace teddy? After observing that it’s more of a present for him than for her, she tosses it aside. Imagine receiving the same present, only in red…and with garter elastics dangling ominously from it. Not only was I embarrassed by the contraption, I found the whole idea silly and cliche.
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1 Rose // Mar 11, 2008 at 4:02 pm
I understand your point, however there is nothing neurotic about taking a shower once a day or wearing sunscreen.
It takes only about 15 minutes to take a bath, and 2 minutes to apply lotin/sunscreen…
Hopefully us americans can appreciate a more natural beauty, but we can do this without skrimping on the sunscreen or daily showers….
2 cris // Feb 28, 2008 at 7:47 am
I don’t get the “Valley of the Dolls” reference; the book/movie was about addiction to prescription drugs (specifically the barbiturate Seconal “Dolls”) among bored housewives and the lives ruined by such abuse.
I’m happy that I am an older woman who thinks this new obsession with shaving “there” is absurd. Shaved genitalia looks very unappealing and immature. (Ref: Britney, Lindsey, and Paris’ crotch shots. ugh). I’m sure the author’s lover was excited by the sight of her hair peeking out between the red garter straps.
3 rini // Dec 28, 2007 at 7:34 pm
I cannot become French. I have seen the difference between sun exposed skin and protected skin. Believe me, it is not beautiful to have deep wrinkles and spots on your skin at 35. Also, smoking? Yech.
I don’t blow dry my hair or wear a lot of makeup. I do shower daily…at least, though and shave my legs, underarms and you know where.
Oh well.
4 Jonny Hairdont // Dec 28, 2007 at 1:53 pm
I’ve been saying this for YEARS. Americans in general and American women specifically are too uptight. Everyone should try to spend a semester overseas, France if possible. It helps give perspective to new things AND appreciate how great the America is.
5 Ray Cougar // Dec 28, 2007 at 1:15 pm
Whoa. The French are making progress to even think about waxing. When I was taking social studies I was led to believe that shaving was a stretch for french broads.
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