Why Skin Care and Make Up, Why Now

And this, my friends, is how I "project pan".

I wished I could say that me writing about make-up and Sephora-things is because I've been watching too many YouTube videos recently. But I don't think that's really the case.

I've mused about makeup before, even if it was mostly out of confusion. Actually, most of my thoughts about things related to skin care and make up have been based in curiosity, admiration, frustration, and envy. But recently, the feelings have turned more toward a certain kind of resolve.

Sephora HAUL (by which I mean three products for $27)

I often fantasize about walking into a fancy department store and walking out with bags and bags of purchased goods, wearing pin heels, a little black dress, and a pair of shades to match. I'm not sure where the image comes from, though I think it's a strange conglomeration of East Asian dramas and Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Needless to say, neither my conscience nor my wallet really allows for that scenario. So the closest I will ever get to talking about a HAUL is on this occasion, wherein I have spent close to $30 buying three things that were on sale at Sephora.com. (I don't know why the word "haul" is so often displayed in all-caps—maybe to convey the thrill and excitement typographically?)

I'll talk about my two lip products later (the Urban Decay Vice Lipstick in Snitch and the Too Faced Melted Latex Liquified High Shine Lipstick (what a name) in Love U, Mean It), but today I want to "review" the third product I bought, which is the First Aid Beauty Once Upon a Prime, a set that includes a primer and exfoliating pads.

CV and Makeup

I submitted grades last Wednesday so for a couple of days after that I binge-watched makeup tutorials on YouTube. As per usual.

And then I also used my newfound freedom to give comments on a CV that's in development. Man, I love going through CVs.

Then as I was rolling around on the floor trying to finish reading two books before the library due date, I realize that the process of putting on makeup was very similar to the process of revising a CV.

Yeah, I know. The kinds of things I think of when summer vacation is knocking on my door.

口紅と時間

十月の終わり、十一月の始めだったでしょうか。何年も使っていた口紅がとうとう無くなってしまいました。

この口紅は、私が最初にお化粧をし始めた頃、バイト先のマネージャーが私にくれた物でした。おそらくもう十年近く前の事。きっとそんなに長い時間同じ口紅を使っていたら、体に悪いですよね・・

何しろ私は口紅を使うスピードが遅くて、いくつか他の口紅ももらったり、買ったり・・・で結局使い切るのが今年やっとになってしまいました。

はっきりは言えませんが、一歩、小さく前に進んだ感じです。今度日本にいったら、同じ会社の口紅を買います、絶対。こだわる程の事でもないかもしれませんが、私にとっては嬉しい思い出。次に選ぶ色が楽しみです。

靴、くつ、クツ

私は、靴は滅多に買わない主義の人間です。靴と言う物に興味がなく、靴をオシャレの一環として見ていないからです。

でも。でも、でもね。ちょっと前に買った焦げ茶色のブーツ・・・あれは買って正解でした。可愛くて、暖かかくて、おまけに私が持ってる洋服にやたらと合う。いや〜、これは嬉しい。

でも、なんかこの写真だけ見ると、からかさ小僧みたいで、怖い。二人揃ってると、普通のブーツに見えるんですけど・・・

I have a $10 coupon for DSW, so I'm going shoe shopping again in the next week or so. I already have more shoes than I can justify, but I guess it's part of my "work wardrobe"—which means that, mysteriously, a new purchase is justifiable. 

(But maybe I should invest in sneakers so that I can go make use of the gym in my complex. Stretching is nice, but I should do more things to build muscle......)

All Aboard the Barbie Train

I'm not crazy about hot pink crew neck sweaters or distressed denim on vests, but I don't mind boots (if they're not pink). And I don't mind turquoise so much either, though I admit I'm more often in the mood for coral...

OK, so maybe I don't think that's the greatest outfit or me, but maybe it is a great outfit for someone else. Someone like...

...the All-American Barbie doll. (Produced by Mattel, Inc. in 1991.)

I mean, look! It's almost as if someone saw the All-American Barbie and then tried to come up with a Polyvore set to recreate her outfit or something.

But the story I wanted to tell you was not of turquoise vs. coral, but of my first—and only—Barbie doll. And yes, it was the All-American Barbie doll.

I remember it like it was 24 years ago. It was my first real birthday after having arrived in the United States, and who can believe it, my parents decided to have my birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's. Oh man, I must have been the happiest kid. I really liked ski ball and I loved the corn and croutons at the salad bar even more. (And Thousand Island dressing. I loooved Thousand Island dressing.) So celebrating my birthday at Chuck E. Cheese's? Mind blown.

It's funny, I can't really remember who came—maybe Grace? Thuy? Crystal? But I do remember that one of them got me an All-American Barbie. I couldn't believe it—my very own Barbie. I was so excited, I didn't even know what to do. (Actually, I probably actually didn't know what to do, because the concept of dolls was pretty foreign to me.) What was I supposed to do with it? Feed it? Take it out on walks? Take off its clothes and then realize that I had no other clothes to put on it?

What I ended up doing was cutting her hair so that it would be short like mine, only to learn that Barbie's hair doesn't grow back. Too bad for her. I guess it was fine either way, since I maintained my bowl cut until I entered middle school—so she actually did look like me, except she was blonde.

But you know what was funny? (Not this TV spot for the doll, though it's a pretty good candidate.) I wasn't an All-American kid. To this day, I'm not really sure what that means. (Remember Margaret Cho's "All-American Girl"? I rest my case. (Don't get me wrong, I love Margaret Cho—I'm talking more about the screwed-up-ness of the fact that it only ran for one season.)) In other words, what the hell was a kid like me—an immigrant kid with no interest in Barbie—doing with an All-American Barbie doll?

To be honest, I was really happy about getting that doll—and I was really grateful to my friend for giving it to me as my birthday present. Even though I didn't really get into the whole doll thing (I'm more of a Sylvanian Families type), I feel like I got a taste of what it was like being a commercially represented 7-year-old in the United States. And in some ways, that's probably the closest I'll ever get to being All-American.

Japan is Licca-fying. (Oh, stop. It's the name of a toy.)

The other day I was on the subway and noticed an ad for honeymoon packages from a travel agency. What I noticed wasn't the advertised product itself (I'm not quite on the market for a honeymoon) but rather the...

OK, so the ad had Licca dolls on it. Or, to be precise, a Licca doll and her...boyfriend (or husband?) doll, whatever his name is. [Disclosure: Actually, at first I thought it was a Jenny doll, because all these dolls look the same to me. And to be honest, I thought "Licca" (リカ) was spelled "Rika", but oh, how ignorant I am.]

And I was like...oh. OH. O. M. G. The young people of Japan are turning into Licca dolls!!!

It's true, folks—or, at least, in my eyes, it's true. The more I looked at the ad, the more I felt like I was seeing merely doll versions of countless couples and young women and men that I had seen walking around in cities of Japan. People with brown hair. Huge eyes. Pale skin. Super skinny limbs.

According to Wikipedia, Licca dolls were developed in the '60s by Takara, with Jenny dolls following suit in the '80s. They both have their backstories (and wardrobes full of pretty clothes), but you can probably imagine the kinds of gender ideologies that have been packed into them over the years.

And of course, since they were manufactured as Japanese versions of Barbie dolls, there's also a particular racial element to that ideology as well. And these have taken on additional layers with globalization and media marketing that spews out all sorts of funny beauty ideals for people all over the place.

I felt more than slightly disturbed. There's nothing wrong with these things, really—dyed hair, makeup that makes your eyes look like those of manga characters. I mean, I think it'd be cool if I could actually learn how to use eyeliner. But...it's also kind of creepy, this whole...looking more and more like a plastic doll thing.

No no, that's not quite what I mean. There's nothing wrong with these things, really—when in ISOLATION. Dyed hair: fine. Makeup techniques that yield astounding before/after photos: fine. Skincare regimens that make your skin look clear, bright, and "white": fine. Plastic surgery of all types: fine. (Well...hmm.) But when taken all together, something about it just unsettles me. But it's also so real. Whoa.

Oh, just listen to me. I sound like such a naysayer. ::sigh:: It's cool, people. Don't mind me. Please carry on looking like the happy plastic couple in the picture. I'll just sit over here in a corner being weirded out...


[But actually, all this thinking about Licca dolls and Jenny dolls has reminded me of my experience with Barbie dolls—or, just one doll, to be precise. I am now itching to tell that story. Maybe next Friday.]

I tried on Jimmy Choo shoes and am never going to do that again.

I was at the International Terminal in Haneda Airport, which is full of brand name boutiques catering to the moneyed people who travel overseas for fun. I was walking around to kill time, when I spotted a Jimmy Choo store. Although I usually keep "window shopping" to (literally) looking at things through the window, for once I thought it would be fun to walk in and pick things up. And oh, how lovely those shoes are! So dainty, so lacy, so sexy... The assistant brought out a pair of black heels in my size so that I could try them on. But they...just looked so wrong. They didn't match my feet, my legs, my clothes, my face, my hair. And the price tag didn't match my wallet, which wasn't a surprise. How depressing, Jimmy Choo. I guess I'll just have to stick to my flip-flops from now on.

On Beauty, or, a Followup to Makeup

[What the...I just did a search on Pinterest for both "beauty" and "beautiful", and I'm kind of confused by the difference in the results...]

Last week I mused about makeup, and some of the reactions to that post made me think a bit more about beauty and what makes someone attractive to someone, and in what context. 

For example, in thinking about Jay-Z and Beyoncé, and how...different...they look, I remarked on male privilege via money and power in heterosexual couples, to which my partner replied, "Actually, Jay-Z has different experiences that make him an interesting person." 

That makes sense. And for someone who has her own life experiences and passions, who can be more attractive than another who is driven and works to make the most of his talents? Isn't that something powerful, something that makes a person attractive to someone else?

Clearly I don't need to wear makeup to look like a "white person". Nor do I need to wear makeup to look like an "attractive Asian (or Japanese) person". But I'm still curious about untangling those threads that link up changing the way we look to feeling happy, to being and feeling more "attractive".

I'm not talking about Japanese makeup and haircare practices from centuries ago. I'm not going to shave my eyebrows or put white powder on my face. I'm not talking about skin whitening creams that became popular after the turn of the century, with the modernization/Westernization/militarization of Japan. And I couldn't really speak to practices in uses of cosmetics in other countries, because I just don't know.

But when I say "look like a white person", I'm not talking about—and other people aren't talking about—people who don't fit the bill of the assumed attractiveness that is de rigueur. We're not talking about people who are short. We're not talking about people who are overweight. We're not talking about people without long, shiny hair (or people who are balding). We're not talking about people whose nails are short and dirty from working with their hands. We're not talking about people with rough skin or sock tans.

We may be talking about people who aren't white, but who are tall and thin and sufficiently-breasted (or whatever). We may be talking about people who are transgender or transsex who are then commodified because they manage to flabbergast the audience by looking so much like a beautiful version of [insert preferred binary category here]. But we certainly aren't talking about "real women" that a company like Dove would use in its commercials. We're not interested in real real women, because that's just too much; we're interested in fake, Photoshopped real women. Does that difference make sense?

When I hear "beauty" and "whiteness" I assume we aren't just talking about race or the shade of our foundation. I assume we're talking about power and (cultural) capital. I assume we're talking about the complexities that come from being hapa and therefore you have your dad's curly hair and your mom's flat nose. I assume we're talking about the trend among men in some societies who get talked about for their metrosexuality or for wearing makeup to get job offers. That's what we're talking about, no?

I do sometimes annoy myself for overthinking things...but then again, I'm not sure where "thinking" becomes "intellectualizing" becomes "overintellectualizing". I'm not fool enough to think that I'm the only one who thinks this way; I'm also not fool enough to think that everyone else thinks this way, too. But I feel too uncomfortable just siting here doing whatever my instinctual preferences tell me to do—after all, where did my instincts and preferences come from? I sure as hell wasn't born with them.

「エロティシズム」とは

とか言っちゃって、「エロティシズム」って一体何なんだろう・・・とか考えてます。

先日読んだ本で、上野千鶴子が結構分かりやすい「エロティシズム」の定義を述べていましたが、忘れてしまいました。（忘れちゃったら、何冊本を読んでも元も子もないのに・・・）

（最近ちょっと「壇蜜」にはまってます。いやいや、色々と事情がありましてね。ちょっとした私的な研究対象になってます、はい。）

でも、本当に、「エロティシズム」とか「エロティック」とは何なのか。見た目の問題？感情の問題？物理的／生物学的な問題？基準は、一人一人？それとも社会が決める？文化？男性と女性はどう考え、どう相手が考えていると思うのか？異性愛者、同性愛者との間では、どう考えるのか？

やっぱり、個人的な好みですかね〜、何がエロくて誰がエロくないかって。

（画像は京都駅の天井です。全然エロくない。）

Makeup or Make-Up?

I've been thinking about makeup (make-up?) lately. This "thinking about" has been somewhere between me thinking about donuts (e.g., "I wonder what flavor cronut I should get next time?") and me thinking about education reform (e.g., "What is appropriate teacher training for a 'liberal arts' education at the secondary level?"). As in, I wonder about the theoretical implications of choosing between new lipliner and new eyeshadow.

Hey, don't laugh. I only started wearing makeup when I started working, and only because my manager gave me samples that her mother sold through her work at a Japanese cosmetics company. Since then I've accumulated random makeup items, but mostly as gifts from other people. No joke, 90% of what I own, I never even paid for.

This wouldn't be a problem, except that that means I end up with a lot of things that just don't look right on my face. For example, of the seven lipsticks/lipglosses I own, exactly two are colors I actually feel comfortable wearing. That's 28.6%, which, the last time I checked, is an F.

But what can I do? I'm grateful that people give me all these things, and I'd feel bad not using them. And I'm not about to go spend $30 on new lipstick when I have various shades of rose and mauve scattered about my bathroom cabinet. Hence years of mixing colors and finding innovative ways to "use" makeup items.

Except that's just the donut side of thinking about makeup. The education reform side is that I can't quite come to terms with my own desires to wear makeup (except those days when I'm like, fuck it, all I need is sunblock), even with the understanding that "wearing makeup" is just another way for us to "fit other people's standards of beauty". Oh, come on—it's true. We can talk about all the ways makeup plays up our best features, makes us beautiful, helps us love ourselves...but please. What we really mean is, it makes us beautiful in the way Western (and thus most other) marketing has defined beauty, and it helps us love ourselves because we get that affirmation from others that makes us feel so good. (Sooo good.)

You want me to use lipgloss because it makes my lips look fuller (but not too full)? You want me to use shadow on the bridge of my nose so that it looks like I have a three-dimensional nose rather than the two-dimensional one with which I was born? You want me to change the shape of my eyebrows to suit this season's trend? Oh come on, now. I have books I have to be reading.

But still...if I want learn how to shade and highlight my face in such a way so as to make it look more like a white person's face...is that so bad? If I want to wear concealer so that my skin looks even, with no blemishes or pores (and thus biologically impossible), am I a sellout? It's so nice to look and feel pretty...and it's true, thinking that I look pretty makes me feel a whole lot better about myself than when I'm sitting there thinking, wow, what a mess. It's like a pair of good heels—height and longer legs, even if it's all an illusion. And if I'm paying my hard-earned money to get that illusion from multinational corporations, to learn how to do that in a way that suits my own face—is that so theoretically criminal?