The Art of Decay
I bought some new make-up. The lady was so effusively commanding, it was hard to not vow to faithfully pat the eye creme on every night “or else!” as she put it, pointing to my spreading crow’s feet.
Her make-up selections all attempt to cover up my imperfections and, failing that (Make-up at some point begins to make things worse, as does plastic surgery, but women don’t seem to recognize that reality), she was all in for tricking the eye and drawing attention away from those realities that simply resist concealment and trying to emphasize those blue eyes.
Her ultimate goal, I believe, was like a magician, even her need for the customer to go “Oh…..my….how’d she do THAT.”
The only thing missing from her “do over” of me was a rabbit coming out of a hat or the make-up manufacturer’s equivalent of ta-da: me looking into the mirror and seeing myself at 35.
All I saw was me at 64 with eyeliner and concealer and a bill of 500 plus dollars if I bought everything which I did not.
I bought new dining room and living room carpeting instead. More than 500 dollars of course but let’s face it, the old carpet was 22 years old and the new one will look..well… brand new.
You have to pay for total transformations one way or the other. But, some are real and others are creamy trickery.
PS.
If I attempted to remove the imperfections of this hydrangea bloom, I would not like this photograph.
This is my goal for personal appearance: Live with it, baby. Pretend your crow’s feet are shrouded in the blessed dreamy 180mm macro’s depth of field bokeh.
It doesn’t take Houdini or Lancome to know that the art of decay is in the eye of the beholder.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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