The Flaws of Perfection

I like imperfection, the beauty that lies in a fallen eyelash on a dewy cheek, an escaped wisp of hair below a rigid ballerina bun, a vest strap which falls down in the summer to reveal a strip of lighter skin which the sun has not yet seen. I like these things because they are real, human and utterly lovely in their candidness, endearing as a child who says the wrong thing and in doing so reveals some deep truth which adults have long forgotten. 

The poets knew the power of imperfection, Shakespeare famously writing to his mistress whose eyes were ‘nothing like the sun,’ a sonnet which was later taken by Lorenz Hart as the template for his song Funny Valentine in which he asks: ‘Is your figure less than Greek? Is your mouth a little weak?’

Yet many advertisers in the world of cosmetics seem to have forgotten the potency of the less than ideal; the way it stirs within us a feeling of tenderness and recognition. 

Actress and Model Natalia Vodianova looking human, a little flawed, slightly shiny round the forehead, yet absolutely gorgeous. Her imperfection and quixotic personal style add to her beauty.

 The beautiful but flawed face which arrests the vision and forces one to look again is becoming rarer in the pages of glossy magazines. Instead we have the airbrushed perfection of L’Oreal ads, where the most exquisite of models are stripped of their human beauty and made to look strangely robotic in the case of Linda Evangelista, or doll-like in the case of Doutzen Kroes. Even the beautiful Frieda Pinto is rendered ordinary by the perfecting mechanisms of L’Oreal, while Penelope Cruz, sensual and feisty on screen, is so hardened by the L’Oreal polish that even her tumbling dark mane doesn’t soften her. 

Supermodel Linda Evangelista airbrushed to the point where she barely looks human. Is this really what the makeup companies think we want to look like? Does any woman truly want to look like this?

Rimmel adverts can also be terrible, managing, by some remarkable feat of aesthetic bludgeoning, to make both Lily Cole and Kate Moss look ordinary. How on earth do they do it?

Do these companies think that women aspire to look bland, perfected, flawless beyond the limits of their mortality? Or do they think that by making these beautiful models and actresses so bland they are bringing them nearer to the average, something which women can at once aspire to and not feel threatened by?

Lily Cole by Rimell...and below Lily as herself, embracing her own pre-raphaelite beauty. Which one do you prefer?

Whatever the reason is for this dull advertising, I call on cosmetics companies to stop it. It is at once ubiquitous and patronising. It is selling a lie which women not only disbelieve but no longer wish to hear.

Yes, airbrushing is okay and is to be expected, even demanded of fashion, that realm of fantasy and dreams. What I also demand from adverts is some individuality, something whimsical and different and unique. I like the Miss Dior Cherie Advert, where Maryna Linchuk floats away holding onto a bunch of balloons. If you look closely at this and other adverts in the same series you will see that her hair is wind-blown and the dark shadows cast by her heavy brows are still visible, adding to her reality, her loveliness, her youth, her beauty.

Like the top image this is taken from the Miss Dior Cherie advert, directed by the wonderful Sofia Coppola. I love the sense of fun and frivolity this whole campaign. To me it encapsulates what fashion and makeup should really be...an extension of your identity and individual beauty, as opposed to the bland cover-all look, advocated by too many beauty companies.