By Elizabeth McQuillan
Beauty editors disgorge cosmetic and grooming advice that pouts seductively at the companies buying their advertising space and sending them expensive samples. Hungry readers absorb the chat on the latest rated product, must-have skin miracle or on-trend lipstick colour – and slavishly follow.
That’s not to say I never made the odd cosmetic faux pas in my youth, but even at 17 I knew the beauty advice to wear yellow eyeshadow was inherently flawed. The blue-black hair and sickly Miss Selfridge frosted lilac lipstick of the 1980s, however, I did succumb to.
Beauty trends are fickle, and not always in the best interest of either our looks or our health, but that has never prevented us from looking a fright in the name of fashion.
A recent walk through Edinburgh on a Friday evening revealed squads of women sporting the same look à la mode – nylon hair extensions, tarantula fake lashes, tiny wiggle dresses and shoes that required their own scaffolding. The current beauty mantra is touted as a "groomed" appearance, and this was clearly open to interpretation.
The made-up and overly tanned teenagers resembled a pack of Bratz dolls (read as "having the look of a Latin American prostitute"), but the 40-something ladies wearing the same garb were worse. Imagine David Walliams shoehorned into a tight pencil dress, pissed and made up to look like Cheryl Cole.
Perhaps we all looked a lot more attractive before the advent of the glossy magazine and the questionable advice therein, but it’s unlikely. Throughout history we have always fallen victim to the fashion trends and beauty advice that prevailed, and even the Middle Ages could boast the writings of a beauty guru or two.
The French – always fragrant and elegant – had advice on beauty and hair colouring within L’Ornament des Dames in the 13th century, but even before then an 11th century Italian medic was advising on health and beauty. A woman known as Trotula of Salerno reputedly occupied the chair of medicine at the School of Salerno and wrote a number of books, mainly concerned with the diseases of women but also advising on beautifying herbal concoctions and recipes for the skin and hair.
I would have considered her beauty recipes over anything available in Boots, given that she was obviously an insightful and clever individual – advocating opiates during childbirth, suggesting that infertility might also be a male problem and as such bravely opposing the teachings of the church at the time. Progressive thinking.
While we may have the Brazilian wax as a topiary choice, it is likely that the noble ladies back then had a penchant for plucking. Aspiring to beauty ideals is nothing new. Many medieval paintings depict images of beauty that are almost (and perhaps are) pre-pubescent, with tiny breasts and a mons sans hair. At the onset of puberty, it is likely that the pubic area was rendered hairless with tweezers and that, with persistent plucking, the ladies would become less hirsute around their lady parts.
Likewise, is the pursuit of perceived gorgeousness, brows were plucked into lines, forming delicate arches over the eyes. I think the look was briefly resurrected in the 1970s, with the unfortunate result that these women have had to carry that look of surprise with them into maturity.
Even the hairline was tweezered in the pursuit of beauty and fashion. A high Tefal forehead was deemed most attractive in medieval times, so the area was made artificially high by removing head hair. Ouch.
Foundation was thick, with the consistency of a paste – as seen on the TOWIE crowd, but without the silicon base and orange hue – and the look was most definitely pale and interesting. Tanned skin would be considered something befitting a peasant labouring in the midday sun, so lily-white skin was desirable.
Lily root itself was often used to make a foundation paste, as was ground flour and even white lead. Life expectancy using the latter was short if you were heavy handed with the slap.
Roman women similarly followed the beauty fad for hairlessness, and would tweeze, or buff with a pumice stone in preparation for sex. They also wanted to have fabulous skin, and had slaves specifically for the task of beautifying and adorning.
Then, as now, beauty masks were applied in advance of a big night out and prior to the ritual application of the party make-up (honeyed Lambrini optional). Placenta, horn, urine, vinegar and excrement could all find their way into the must-have beauty recipe of the day.
"Yuk!", I hear you cry. Well, the beauty and cosmetic industry may be worth billions as we chuck hard earned cash at the latest products, but the composition therein has not really moved on so very much. Broken down into their basic chemical formulae, many of the ancient and quite repulsive ingredients are doing the same job today:
● Vinegar (acetic acid) finds its way into hair care products and breath fresheners. ● Urea is commonly found in skincare creams and eye make-up. ● Placenta is the basis of many rejuvenating and anti-wrinkle formulations. ● Keratin (the protein composition of horn) is used in hair-smoothing products and treatments. ● Nightingale excrement collected from the Japanese island of Kyushu is used in high-end spas in Japan, New York and London as a facial. There is an enzyme in the excrement that purportedly removes dead skin cells and leaves skin glowing – Mrs Beckham is rumoured to be a fan.With the addition of beeswax, honey, rose and some aromatic compounds to the concoctions, they were rendered a little more appealing. Mineral make-up, the latest beauty must-have of the 21st century, was around back then too. So, ground-up minerals are "non-comedogenic" and better for your skin than chemicals? Hey, the Romans knew that, but here we are, falling for the newly packaged version all over again as advised by the glossy mags. One advert reveals a brilliant one-liner ... "mineral make-up is more than just a beauty trend…". Must be because you’re worth it. The latest reincarnation of mineral make-up contains zinc oxide as a white powder that reflects and scatters UV radiation and soothes the skin (also classified under FDA toxicity as "expected to be toxic or harmful"), titanium dioxide for light reflection/whiteness/opacity and bismuth oxychloride, which is a synthetically prepared crystalline powder to give a pearlescent effect (but is an irritant). Tin oxides in foundation, malachite for green eyeshadow and azurite for blue, crushed pearls and oyster shell. Minerals pummelled with a pestle and mortar have been the cosmetic mainstay for centuries. Minerals were done and dusted in the name of beauty while Rome was still expanding the empire. Men have intermittently been in on the beauty act too, most recently following the trend that has chaps buying manly vials of moisturiser with a "hint of tan". But men wearing make-up is not exactly groundbreaking either. David Bowie and Alice Cooper were partial in the 1970s, while Gary Numan and most male musicians from the 80s wouldn’t be seen without sludgy black eyeliner. Men in Egypt had embraced eye make-up as far back as 4000BC. Galena, a blue-grey mineral, was mixed with soot and the resulting kohl was applied with a specially carved stick. Other minerals were used to produce colours (green malachite was popular) and applied elaborately around the eye area. Iron oxide from clay provided a red ochre to stain cheeks and lips, and the henna shrub provided semi-permanent colour for the hair and nails. The men of the ancient world also felt that bare flesh was the best beauty look to follow, and kept their bodies smooth and hairless (though their motivation might have been parasitic infestation). Aromatic oils and unctions kept skin glistening, lubricated – and quite possibly repelled annoying insects and parasites as well. In effect, the beauty products and trends have all been done before. No longer do we grind clay to a fine dust, then add our own minced placenta and rose oil, but we still buy into the ancient desire for enhanced beauty. The same one the beauty editor is plugging every month. We can only hope and pray that she doesn’t suggest that the high hairline look enjoys a renaissance.
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