But for now, I wanted to actually take some time to talk about Julia Glass's beauty article in the June edition of Vogue. Glass talks about "reveling in the fashion pages" of Life, of dreaming of "being steeped in a life of beauty, of being a beauty", for that was what every girl of the time wanted to be - a model. Glass wanted to be on both sides of the fence; the model and the designer. She certainly had the height for it up until the eighth grade. But life had other plans, and as she grew, Glass remained stunted in growth when compared to other modelesque beauties in her class, and the boys failed to notice her. The boys failed to choose her, when every model nestled between the pages of a magazine whispered with their eyes: "Choose me. Of course you choose me". Models were always noticed and always attracted attention, but as Glass rationalized, how could she ever model if she couldn't even noticed by the boys in her class? She wasn't good enough to model, or to dress like a beauty since she wasn't a natural beauty. Thus Glass focused on being smart, not sexy, and chose to continue being creative. She turned to writing as a means of creativity and of showing off her creativity and beauty, through words and not through looks. She turned to unflattering looks of "turtlenecks and trousers in hopsack - a fabric akin to burlap", and eventually married a man who "chose her for smart, not sexy". Glass had forgotten what it felt like to dress purely to please oneself, and to feel beautiful. She had deemed herself unworthy of wearing beautiful clothes, because she had deemed herself "unbeautiful". She saw no point to dressing beautifully if she wasn't going to model the clothes for anyone else. Glass had allowed her self-critic to win over her will. As she perceived that fashion had turned its back on her, she turned her back on fashion and remained that way for many years... until she chanced a Norman Parkinson retrospective in New York City, 1988. At that show, she was struck by one particular photo; the photo of a beautiful, heronlike model "nearly engulfed in lavender tulle"; a dress that looked "very much like on [Glass's] mother worse when [Glass] was very small". The model was half-smiling into the crook of her arm, while leaning against a sofa, and it was that half-smile that most drew Julia Glass's attention; "the smile that seemed to say not 'Choose me', but rather 'I choose myself'".
Above, in fact, is the photograph in question.
Glass purchased a poster of this woman, this model, the legendary Jean Patchett, and in that moment, reflected whether she had lost sight of herself, and whether her "youthful defiance of fashion had been but a veiled apology for never having transformed her prettiness into beauty"; a beauty that others acknowledged, noticed, appreciated, praised, wondered at, and awed at.
Her marriage came to end, soon after, and Glass ended up meeting a man who "desired her as she had never been desired before". These feelings of being noticed, acknowledged, more than appreciated, wondered at, praised, and even awed at by another translated into Glass dressing to please no one other than herself. "What makes me happy is dressing, at long last, according to the dictates of my soul." Glass revisited vivid greens, purples, vibrant reds, crazy prints -all shades and ideas she had loved as a painter. "She chose garments more because she shared their spirit than because they flattered her." She chose garments that made her happy, and because of that, she shone, and never looked more beautiful. Glass confesses that at long last, "being noticed is rarely her objective. She confines her acting to her novels." At the same time, Glass does not deny that it is a pleasure to be noticed. Wearing a dress with splashes of color one night, and a radiant self-confidence to match, an onlooker remarked; "That dress looks like happiness." Glass had never agreed more.
Dress for yourself, your soul and your happiness, and no one else, and everyone will notice how beautiful you look. Happiness and contentedness is the best look on anyone. Dress with the hope that others will notice how beautiful you look and your beauty will be unnatural, formulaic, and pretty, but not truly beautiful. Beauty comes from the soul and not the clothes, while pretty extends only from the clothes. If you feel beautiful, you are beautiful, and will be called beautiful. If your clothes are pretty, you will be called pretty, but YOU will never be beautiful.
And that, my beautifuls, is where my rant ends. I think it's a great piece of self-discovery, and something to think on. I definitely try to dress for myself, but I still struggle with this too, and get drawn in by consumerist, hierarchical societal expectations.
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