Age and appearance: two recent events

[redbird]

A couple of weeks ago, someone (friends-locked) was talking about how she dressed, and why, and said something about expecting that she would "age out of pretty altogether", and that even if she could still dress well then, it wouldn't be as effective, because of the competition from younger, prettier women. My reaction was an odd certainty that I didn't need to worry about that anymore.

I don't know if I was ever pretty in the sense she's talking about, but what I have now is something equally real and less ephemeral, I think. It's not just personality; I know my partners like looking at me.

The almost immediate follow-up to the thought that I didn't need to worry about aging out of my looks was to wonder when and where I got that self-confidence. I'm still not sure, but it's there. Not always, and not about everything, but somewhere along the line I've gotten a lot more comfortable with how I look. Not just in terms of not fretting about it, not wanting to spend a lot of money and time on it, but that I look good.

Last Sunday, I bought cough syrup at a Walgreen's in Cambridge, Mass. The cashier started to ask for my ID, and as I reached for it corrected himself, saying that he only needed my date of birth, which I gave him. I don't know if not selling dextromethorphan to people under 18 is store or state policy, but he clearly was sure that I was old enough, so it didn't actually matter if the answer I gave him was valid. (It was: I can reel off two or three zip codes other than my own without thinking, but asked date of birth and I'll either tell the truth or maybe ask why you want to know. More likely the former.)

Comments

[cakmpls.livejournal.com]

I find the concept of being in "competition" with "younger, prettier women" just kind of...I don't know...I just don't relate to it...

Someone else mentioned in an LJ entry having once had a boyfriend "stolen" from her--another concept I just don't grasp.

It's something like this: relationships between human beings don't feel like a contest to me. Or like a zero-sum game. (I suspect that I have some personality traits that would work well with polyamory; what I lack is, I think, the energy.)

It's late and I'm babbling. But I had been thinking about that other LJ post, and then yours came along.

[papersky.livejournal.com]

I also saw that post.

I have never been pretty, never been the most attractive person in the room, and human relationships don't feel like a contest to me either -- but I've often sensed that the prettier women did feel they were competing, and that they were eliminating me in the first round. It was odd to see that confirmed, because generally if you ask people why they are making all that effort they say it is because they like to.

[cakmpls.livejournal.com]

I have never been pretty, never been the most attractive person in the room, ... but I've often sensed that the prettier women did feel they were competing, and that they were eliminating me in the first round.

Yes, same here. (And once in a while, those women who eliminated me got a bit of a surprise.)

However, I don't think "never been the most attractive person in the room" quite fits, because there are other types of attractiveness. There are some people who are attracted only to conventionally good-looking people, no matter who else is around. But lots of people do feel the pull of other kinds of attractiveness: I think that self-esteem and self-confidence and genuine interest in and friendliness toward others are some of the factors that draw others to a person. I have often seen someone who was by no means that most conventionally attractive person be the center of attention in a room. (Heck, I've occasionally been that center of attention, and I'm sure you have, too.)

[fjm.livejournal.com]

I have aged into my looks, like my mother and grandmother before me. I was a cheerful, plain child, a complete mess in adolescence, and started to gain "something" in my twenties. I was 30 before I really liked what I saw in the mirror (and that includes a 20lb weight gain). But I do understand what your friend means: pretty women do age out of pretty, because pretty is by definition young. The rest of us are rather luckier, most of us age into handsome of one variety or another.

[cakmpls.livejournal.com]

Sorry, that anonymous was me, unlogged-in.

[redbird]

Thanks for identifying yourself. (I'd have unscreened it regardless, but it's nice to know who it's from.)

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

What bothered me in my youth was when I figured out that the ones who looked older then typically had ageless faces that would look younger later on. I always looked much younger then; I think I look more or less my age now and expect to look older eventually. Don't care much, as long as I look good, for whatever age.

Something someone said recently that rang a chord with me was that there was a pint when miniskirts may look fine on your legs still, but don't go with your face anymore. I think I'm there with very short skirts now, though will still wear mid-thigh ones, with tights.

[roadnotes.livejournal.com]

What bothered me in my youth was when I figured out that the ones who looked older then typically had ageless faces that would look younger later on.

I didn't figure that out, but I noticed it with Mark (the Good Ex): he looked older than 21 (which he was when I met him) and now at 47, he -- well, he does look younger than 47, but it's also an ageless distinguished look. It helps that he's happy; our Dubious Ex, who was the cute one when we were younger, has grown up petulant and dissatisfied, and it shows badly.

[papersky.livejournal.com]

I think it's great that you feel so confident of all that.

[roadnotes.livejournal.com]

I have many mixed feelings about this, both because when I was pretty, I didn't know it, and because I think I shifted quickly from pretty to beatiful/striking, and that's my mature state. This is all hard to verbalize...

...some of the not knowing is because I have always been so much Other (black in primarily white subcultures, short-haired in long-haired circles, dancer/ex-dancer in non-athletic groups) that I found it hard to believe that what I was was pretty in its own right.

Hmmmm.... let me come back to this and noodle around, because, as one of the people (if not the only) who understood the appearance-as-weapon concept, I need to verbalize it more fully, and I don't have time right now.

[redbird]

It's not that I didn't understand the concept of appearance as weapon, it's that the post sparked this other set of thoughts.

I've seldom if ever used my appearance consciously as a weapon: I can't recall doing so, but that doesn't mean I haven't, let alone that nobody had that reaction to what I was doing. I've never used my kitchen knives as weapons either, but I'm aware that they could be, in some other context than my usual one.

There's room, I think, for noodling on the idea of appearance as tool; in this context, "weapon" is a special case of "tool" (as are such things as "heater," "container," and "writing implement"). We shape our tools, but our tool use shapes us.

[zingerella.livejournal.com]

I've seldom if ever used my appearance consciously as a weapon: I can't recall doing so, but that doesn't mean I haven't, let alone that nobody had that reaction to what I was doing. I've never used my kitchen knives as weapons either, but I'm aware that they could be, in some other context than my usual one.

Thank you. This is what I meant by the tool/weapon thing.

Also, you're right about the tool use shaping us.

Lots to say here, maybe some relevant

[zingerella.livejournal.com]

Further thought will probably appear in my own LJ.

I was the one talking about pretty, and I sorta feel like I didn't make myself clear, or perhaps like I focussed too much on the competitive thing, which is not actually a frequent state of mind for me. It's not like I gaze anxiously in the mirror every day, fearing each grey hair, each line on my face, and lamenting the loss of my youthful bloom. It's not like I spend hours on my clothes and hair every morning, getting every detail right, or as if I'm terrified at social gatherings that someone will be prettier than I.

In context, I was talking about guilty pleasures, and saying that I feel guilty for taking pleasure in the way I have learned, over time, to use my appearance as a tool and sometimes as an offensive weapon.

I don't think that pretty is a measure of any sort of value beyond that of the ability of the form I wear, to give pleasure to a large number of people.

I'd have to be really unobservant not to notice the way people respond to how I look, or really stubborn in my own modesty or humility to think that the random strangers who tell me I'm lovely all had ulterior motives, or were simply being kind, or were touched in the head.

I grew up receiving the mixed message that beauty is skin deep, that one's intellect, integrity, and competence were what mattered, on the one hand, but that beauty was eminently desirable, on the other. I, who was not, by any stretch, deemed attractive by my peers, embraced the notion that beauty was shallow, that I shouldn't take any pleasure in it, and that my brain and skills were what counted.

As I grew up, I noticed that people responded favourably to my appearance. I noticed that in certain contexts, appearance did count for something. I noticed that I took pleasure in the positive attention I garnered, even though I really wanted it to be from people I respected, and I took as much or more pleasure from how they responded to the things I had to say.

It's not, I hope, that I'm going to turn into some Wicked Queen, afraid of and hostile towards anyone younger and prettier. In general, I take a lot of pleasure (non creepy, I hope) in watching youth and beauty: there's often an unselfconscious grace and loveliness that I know I'll never have again. It's lovely that this exists in the world.

Mostly, I don't feel competitive. I just feel pleased when people respond positively. Sometimes I do feel competitive—usually when I'm feeling insecure about something and I know that looks are the easiest tool to use to bolster my self-confidence.

Sometimes I feel intellectually competitive too. I want to feel smart. I want to be noticed for the things I have to say. Most times, I'm secure enough in my own self not to worry, to just go into a situation and be me and do the things I'm there to do, and enjoy what other people have to say and offer. And when someone compliments me on something I've said or done, I'm flattered and happy.

Usually, intellectual competitiveness also means that I'm feeling insecure about something.

I take a lot of pleasure from others' wit, intellect, charm, and good nature. I don't choose my friends, co-workers, lovers, or companions based on their looks, even though I'm, in general, happy about my own.

I hope I have something to offer besides a pretty face and a decent figure (and nice hair). I'm hoping that as I age I'll like myself well enough and be happy enough with what I can do to feel cheerful and confident.

I am neither a beauty for the ages nor a genius of staggering proportions, nor the most enjoyable person in the world with whom to spend time. But I fortunate enough to have certain gifts, and I generally try to use them in ways that do some good—that bring people pleasure, or get a job done, or share a skill, or tease understanding out of something obscure. Sometimes I take a guilty pleasure in being better at some things than other people, and that's not very nice or worthy, but it's true.

I admire, intensely, people who are comfortable in their skins, in their minds, in their selves.Nothing is more attractive than someone who is at peace with who they are, no matter what their shape may be.

[mjlayman.livejournal.com]

I've never been pretty and I've always worn what I wanted to wear. At a prom full of pouffy skirts, I wore a sleek a-line. These days it's mostly tie-dye shirts and lots of purple. I'm getting silver hairs, but not in the streak I want. People seem to like me anyway.