Monday, June 27, 2011

Applying Makeup in Public: Preserving the Beauty Mystique

A while ago I was talking with a friend about annoying subway behavior. We covered She of the Unending Cell Phone Conversation, He of Legs Spread Wide Encroaching Upon Your Space, and Dude Who Asks What You Are Reading When By Virtue of Reading It Should Be Clear You Do Not Wish To Be Bothered. And then I got to my personal favorite: She Who Applies Makeup.

"I mean, powdering your face, whatever, that's fine," I said. "But putting on a whole face of makeup! I hate that!" My friend paused. "I put on my makeup on the train," she said. "It's dead time on the subway otherwise; I can sleep in a little bit and still show up to work made up if I just do it on the subway." I made some halfhearted attempt to say it was a hygiene or safety issue--that "makeup particles" could fly everywhere (she then pointed out that was most likely to happen with powder, which I'd already given the thumbs-up to) or that I hated having to worry if She Who Applies Makeup would jab her eye out while applying mascara ("That's her problem, not yours," she said). 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized what annoyed me about seeing a woman apply makeup on the subway was that is was a public handling of private behavior. And not just "private behavior" in the sense of another subway personality, They Who Grope One Another, but private behavior that I, as a woman, have an investment in other women keeping private.

Woman at Her Toilette, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

In theory, I'm all for transparency in government, reporting, and beauty. Preserving the smoke-and-mirrors aspect of beauty upholds the notion that conventional beauty is something accessible only to the chosen few who are lucky enough to be born with clear skin, straight teeth, and balanced or striking features. One of the things I appreciate about the mass beauty industry is the democracy of it: Don't hate me because I'm beautiful; you can be beautiful too. At its best, it levels the playing field (or at least teaches us how to bunt).

So in an effort to be transparent about my beauty routine, I don't pretend like I don't use any of that stuff. My look is rather "natural" (you know, 11-product "natural") so it doesn't scream out that I'm wearing makeup, but neither am I coy about my beauty routine. I use self-tanner! I wear concealer! My eyelashes are not naturally black-tipped, and I did not emerge from the womb smelling like a delicate mix of milk, honey, carnation, and rose.

But when I think of the feeling I get when I see a woman whip out her makeup case and go for it on the subway--an irritability that, if I'm already on edge for whatever reason, can easily tip into something resembling contempt or even anger--I have to admit that I have an investment in preserving a certain beauty mystique. By "beauty mystique" I mean not any particular look or effect, but rather the quality that prompts us to speak of a woman's magic, or her je ne sais quoi, her effortlessness, her aura. Any given woman may, of course, have forms of magic or je ne sais quoi that have naught to do with her appearance, but most of the time we refer to any of those qualities we include the effect of her appearance as a part of the quality we're describing. If we're able to witness the quality's construction, the effect is diminished. And if we witness the construction of any one person's effect--say, a woman putting on bronzer on the subway--we can apply that revealed knowledge to others.

In beauty talk, discussion of the beauty mystique most often comes up in discussion of the irony of how the "natural look" actually requires a zillion products. (Or, in my case, 11.) And that is the clearest example of how hiding one's labor serves to create an air of effortlessness. (Sociologist Erving Goffman in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life: "In interactions where the individual presents a product to others, he will tend to show them only the end product, and they will be led into judging him on the basis of something that has been finished, polished, and packaged...It will be the long, tedious, lonely labor that will be hidden.") When I'm filled with ire by witnessing a woman putting on makeup in public--doing what I do every day, just in private--I'm taking that idea of hidden labor and turning it into a sort of morality play. What I feel is close to indignance: How dare she let the world know what it takes? Not what it takes to apply makeup, but what it takes to appear feminine in that particular way. 

As much as I'd like to think I want that labor exposed, there's a petulant little part of me that wants to preserve that mystique. I don't think women want to preserve that mystique to control other women's access to it (remember, we're not to hate the Pantene hair model, because "you can be beautiful too"), but because preserving that mystique forms an armor against the performance of womanhood being exposed as a shadow-puppet show. "It is a widely held notion that restrictions placed upon contact, the maintenance of social distance, provide a way in which awe can be generated and sustained in the audience--a which the audience can be held in a state of mystification to the performer," writes Goffman. In other words, the more those of us who engage in the performance of femininity reveal to our audience, the less power we have, even if the power in question is a mirage.

As a feminist, I want the performance of femininity deconstructed so we can examine its usefulness, rebuilding it from its scraps so that we can make a new model that's more inclusive, less constrictive, based on our collective wishes and desires rather than the needs of those with the keys to the castle. Transparency equals access; transparency allows us to find common ground. Transparency helps us form sisterhood: It's the very reason that beauty talk can allow for a greater conversation to begin. Transparency can become subversive. And sometimes I want to make sure that beauty stays as opaque, as filled with mystique, as by-invitation-only--the invitation being womanhood, not genes or money--as it currently is. It turns out I'm fiercely protective of the beauty mystique, and I'm trying to figure out why.

Talking to my She Who Applies Makeup friend was revealing, so I'm curious to hear from other women: Do you try to keep your beauty routine private? Is it important to you to be perceived as not putting as much effort into your appearance as you actually do? Have you ever misrepresented your beauty labor--either playing it down, or playing it up (perhaps to demonstrate the importance of an event, as Rosie Molinary discusses here when talking about beauty transparency in Latin culture)?


  1. I apply my makeup on the subway for all the same reasons your friend describes. Frankly, the people on the subway are not my intended audience. My workplace (or other destination) is.

  2. Interesting, Kristin! That there is indeed an audience--not the public at large, but a specific subset of people. That makes sense to me, and I think that's how my friend approaches it as well. I don't like to think I see the world as a stage, but my unwillingness to reveal that part of the "performance" makes me wonder about how true that is...

  3. I'm perfectly willing to do lips and powder in public, but everything else is done privately. Although it's more for accuracy reasons than mystique-preserving ones! I'd gouge my eye out trying to do mascara on a subway car.

    That said, I find public makeup application more amusing than bothersome. People lead busy lives, and I understand the need to utilize trapped time however we can. But I also see the private act in a public space argument. As much as people cling to their "right" to wear slippers and PJ pants in public, I see that as a private act in a public space. Or, anyway, a decision that is purposely made to flaunt convention. And THAT gets under my skin.

  4. I love your posts Autumn, they always make me realise i have more opinions about make up than i think I do!

    I walk to work, but I would have no problem applying make up on public transport if i thought I could manage. I don't do my make up til I get o work actually, because the wind makes my eyes water and mascara run, so I'm perfectly happy for people to see me make up free, although I'm bothered enough to actually wear it!

    Sal's comment about pjs made me think that this is slightly different though. It's not the non-made up face as such that you consider private, but the act of moving from naked to made up face, right? Personally, there are few behaviours I would consider completely private, I don't have many barriers that way.

  5. I do keep my beauty routine private, though I'm also sort of hit-or-miss about it in general (at least for anything I'd consider more beauty and less hygiene). So I'm not sure how much of it is me trying to keep the routine private and how much of me simply can't be arsed to bring my beauty products on my commute with me. ;)

    I've definitely talked to people who are on board with the idea of "intended audience," though, and I think I might be as well. I'm far more likely to wear make up to work (because that's a space where people who have power over my career may observe and judge me directly) than I am in any other public sphere.

  6. Uh, since I do so little--apply moisturizer, I can't imagine doing it in public. Curiously, I notice women even older than I taking out a compact and studying their face in the small mirror--applying lipstick and powdering their nose. It is a ritualistic behavior and regardless of the woman's age, I am's sexy.

  7. I'm also put off by someone applying make-up in public. I think the reason has to do with Kristen's comment. It's a disregard for the people nearby- as in, you are not even worth pretending for...though clearly someone else (the intended audience) is.

  8. To be honest, before I cut back on the number of makeup products in my daily routine, I would have been embarrassed to apply them all in public because of the sheer number. (I aimed to look "all natural" while using 9 products with 6 separate application devices, and... frankly.... I liked the facade!) Dabbing on a bit of gloss in public would have been no big deal, but the careful (obsessive) routine of applying primer, foundation, concealer, powder would have just embarrassed me since I like to pretend that I'm "low maintenance"! I recently managed to drop down to 3 products (and 1 application device) on a camping trip, which felt really cool. I applied everything in public with pride, like "Hey everybody, look how TRULY natural and low maintenance I am!!" So, clearly, something about the NUMBER of products applied in public has importance for me.

  9. Sal, ha! The pajama people confounded me when I first moved to New York. I'm actually sort of charmed by that, though in general I'm with you on the convention-flaunting front. Decoding Dress referred to the public application of makeup as subversive, and I think there's something there.

    Apple Franca, yes, it's the transformation that irks me (and I wish it didn't). It's weird--when I spent some time in Vietnam I remember being shocked at the amount of labor that took place on the street. Barbers, shoemakers, mechanics--everyone just did their labor in public. Even in a city that lives as publicly as New York, our labor is hidden, as though we're ashamed of it--or rather, that we'd just pretend it didn't happen. That to have it public is almost distasteful. I have to wonder if I'm in part ashamed of my own beauty labor here.

    Tori, I like that phrase, "intended audience." In fact, Kristin's comment made me realize that I treat the entire world as my intended audience! Not at every minute--I just traipsed through the grocery store a sweaty mess from the gym--but in general, yep.

    Terri, it is indeed sexy--when it's the things that are obvious. There's a glamour to it (why else would there be so many fine art pieces of "woman at toilette"?) when it's a woman making it clear: I am putting on a show, if a small one, and it is both public and private. It's both revealing and concealing in its construction. It's the hidden labor that makes me cringe, I think--putting on the unglamorous makeup like concealer, say.

    Bunnyteeth, I think that's part of it (that the people nearby aren't the intended audience), and not too long ago I would have made a protestation about how when it comes to constructed beauty we should be fighting to make it as transparent as we can. But the more I think about self-presentation and how the smallest choices affect the final image--not necessarily "image" as in upholding a certain idea of femininity, but an image of, This Is What I Put Forth--I begin to see that's a tad naive of me.

    Kjerstin, I totally like the facade! I agree that part of the mystique is keeping private the number of products--it makes women like us, who have a "natural" look, seem like we're something that we don't wish to project into the world, and that indeed goes against our actual self-image. Because even as much as I've had to admit I cling to my beauty rituals, my instinct is still to describe myself as low-maintenance. I am compared to many--and am artificial as hell compared to others. It also makes me think about the various lines we draw--a friend of mine gets Botox but is horrified that I use self-tanner on my legs.

  10. As much as people cling to their "right" to wear slippers and PJ pants in public, I see that as a private act in a public space.

    Sal, just as a partial clarification, I have a chronic pain condition and do my version of PJ pants and slippers (which is PJ pants or gauchos and flip-flops) in public on bad pain days, when I really can't put on anything else. So then, it's not a matter of flouting convention; it's more a matter of needing to trespass convention in order to be in public at all.

    And while I certainly agree that not everyone who wears PJs and slippers likely has pain issues, I also know that I'm very much not the only one who does.

  11. I might object to public makeup application on the no-private-acts-in-public front, but I don't mind a loss of shadow-puppet mystique. I feel like being TOO secretive about our beauty-actions 1) can make young or uninitiated women feel like hideous trolls for having to 'work at it' when the women around them don't appear to and 2) might lead to greater denial, such as women denying obvious cosmetic surgeries.

    Looks like I'm voting for transparency. In the long run, I don't think mystique is helping women be stronger or happier.

    I'm guessing the ladies in the old "woman at her toilette" paintings weren't doing NEARLY as much making up as we do. Unless they were actresses or prostitutes, I suppose.

  12. Rebekah - I, too, am definitely in the transparency camp. In a political/theoretical sense, I'd like 100% transparency about beauty routines, particularly from celebrities. I'd like it to be publicly available, not only what products they wear, but the surgeries, professional grooming help, AND all of the costs. It's difficult (and almost embarrassing) to admit that, despite these beliefs, on a personal level I like trying to "get away with" my own beauty practices more privately. Well... at least until I started blogging about them. Ha!

    Anyway, this transparency vs. facade debate reminds me of a post I saw recently at Soc Images about the "Patriarchal Bargain" women (particularly celebrities) are faced with. Here's the definition, per Soc Images : "A patriarchal bargain is a decision to accept gender rules that disadvantage women in exchange for whatever power one can wrest from the system." (the original post is here:

  13. Kjerstin, that link is fabulous! Depressing, but enlightening. =)

  14. I just see it as another act of public grooming, which I think is best done in private. I don't see privacy as artifice or chicanery or deception, just...privacy. I don't want to see someone flossing or tweezing or doing their hair or depilating. I guess it makes me sound prissy but I even get uncomfortable with the lipstick/powder check when I do it (or did it--I've abandoned those products, perhaps because they do require so much fussing).

    I mean, clearly the world knows I wear some makeup. I'm not trying to hide that fact. I just wouldn't trim my toenails in public either.

    That said, I don't really care all that much. But upon reflecting, I do think that grooming, including makeup, should be private. Not as an act of dishonesty, just common courtesy.

  15. Tori, a good reminder that not all is as it seems. There certainly are "I'm so wacky!!" pajama people (who usually have other signifiers of intended wackiness) but soft clothing can be a comfort issue in ohter ways.

    Rebekah, I wish I could wholeheartedly vote for transparency. Because you're absolutely right: Beauty mystique does not help women be stronger or happier, in the long run. That doesn't prevent me from clinging to it, though. Is it a form of apparent (and likely false) privilege? It might be. It's difficult to own up to forms of privilege that aren't apparent. Like, I have an easier time spotting and acknowledging and hopefully refuting white privilege than I do any privilege I might get from being reasonably attractive, because A) we're never ever to say that we know we might be reaping those privileges, B) it can be a double-edged sword, and C) there's a part of me that enjoys those privileges and is probably not eager to give them up. Ugh.

    Kjerstin, I love that link, and it certainly speaks to exactly this issue. I don't necessarily think I need to make that bargain to be heard, but in the regular civilian sense there is a tradeoff that I/we make. It's tempting to say that we're reclaiming the system, but that's bullshit!

    Erica, as an act of public grooming it should indeed be private. (There are fingernail clippers on the subway too, and I'm vehemently anti. One shouldn't leave REMNANTS of yourself on the Q train!) I'm wondering if your perspective--that it doesn't bother you any more than, say, tweezing--is testament to a less conflicted relationship with beauty products than I have? Because I'm telling you, sister, my irritation verges on rage...

  16. Oh Autumn, I do love you - this is such a good post.

    I too have no problems applying makeup in public, though a subway car is more likely than a restaurant table. Although there is a hygiene aspect to that, I think there are certain 'arenas' where appearing 'done' is more important than others; the very act of travelling from one place to another is almost symbolic of your morning transformation (aggrandizing, moi?!). There are some things that I am sure I would keep to myself, but I resent the 'invisibility' of makeup application. I want people to know that it doesn't come easy. One day it'd be nice not to feel like I have to do it at all...

    I do, however, agree with you on the subject of fingernail clippers and tweezers - intentionally leaving unwanted bits of your body in public is simply gross. I once sat next to a girl who was slicing her cuticles off with a scalpel, and I thought I was going to be sick!

  17. Fascinating post! For many reasons. First, because you're the first blogger I've ever seen quote sociologist Erving Goffman. Second, because the very subject itself is interesting. And third, because our perception of the subject varies hugely depending on who we are.

    I didn't start out understanding your perspective but your lucid explanation conveyed it. And I'm better off having that understanding. Thank you.

    I come at the subject from an entirely-different angle, one which 99% of observers of public grooming lack. When I see women applying makeup in public (which I have), I become deeply envious. As you note, they are revealing a private activity -- one I wish I could engage in. That trumps the otherwise reasonable impression you and others have of the activity.

    Great post!

  18. Why, Mrs. Bossa, you make me blush! That's a fantastic point about wanting people to know that it takes work. I remember doing an early interview with a friend and erstwhile model who had something similar to say about mirrors--that it's easy to criticize women who check their appearance in mirrors frequently, but that that criticism belies the belief that even a fantastically "done" look is effortless, when certainly we all know better. This conversation thread has gotten me thinking about glamour, and how much visible effort can go into something and still appear glamorous--I reckon it can go both ways, actually.

    Shybiker, pleased to meet you! I discovered Goffman a couple of years ago and have been fascinated ever since. And that's an interesting point about how our perception of public application can speak to our own struggles. An act that I, as a biological woman, can feel protective of and simultaneously critique has an entirely different meaning for trans folk. I suppose for bio women I see it as a public proclamation, whereas for a trans person to even be in public with a full face of makeup becomes the very statement. Which is great if you're making a point; not so great if you're just trying to live your life as you see fit, I imagine!

  19. I understand the wish or want or need, perhaps, to keep your beauty routine private. For a long time, I wanted people to believe I woke up with gorgeously glowing skin and a nice pink pout, but one day I just stopped caring. Sometimes, I even find it relaxing to have an audience while I apply my makeup. I accept my natural beauty for what it is, I have decent skin, pretty blue eyes, full brows, freckles out the whazoo, and some mild acne in my T-zone. That is my natural beauty, and half the time when I'm putting on makeup, its not to hide it. It's not even to amp it up. It is to look how I want to look, to appear demure or fresh. Its all in my mood. Makeup is a passion of mine, beauty is quite frankly, and to be able to sit in front of people and do what I'm passionate about, it's a peaceful thing.

  20. Anonymous, what a fresh take on this--that because you're invested in the process, you take pleasure in the very act of ritual application. I'll try to remember this when I feel myself having a negative reaction to seeing this--I'm really trying not to have this particular reaction, and I think reframing it in this way might help. And thank you for reading!

  21. My dad's fiance does her makeup during her commute, but that's while driving a car, not just riding a subway. That really bugs me. It's flatout dangerous to be leaning way up into the rear-view mirror instead of watching the road. I've tried to tell her she could just not bother wearing the makeup if she doesn't have time to put it on outside the car, but she's not interested in the actually natural look.

    I don't see anything wrong with nail clipping and/or filing in public though. If you just broke a nail, what else are you supposed to do? Go around stabbing your other fingers and everyone you shake hands with all day? Ditto doing your hair. If your ponytail/headband/barrette is sliding out...fix it. I probably "do my hair" (retie my ponytail) 10 times a day.

    I might put on makeup while standing in line for Rocky Horror, but then going to Rocky Horror once every couple years is also the only reason I own makeup (makeup doesn't expire, does it?).

  22. Mackenzie, aiaiai! Yes, DWB (driving while beautifying) is a total no-no. As far as the nail clipping/filing, I suppose I'd just go to the bathroom or something? I just hate the thought of there being little pieces of me everywhere (and I know that's happening anyway, but this seems more deliberate somehow). And, you know, fixing hair in public doesn't bother me! I can't articulate why--I think it's something about the idea that if my hair is in an updo, it's obviously not something I just naturally possess. Now, obviously I don't naturally possess puckery red lips either! But the illusion...

    Makeup gurus will tell you that makeup does indeed expire. I, however, will tell you to merrily continue Magenta-ing your heart out. I think I might still have some makeup from the late '90s (don't tell!).

  23. I have no issue doing my makeup in public. I'd love to think it's my little rebellion over convention, but it's more about my poor time-management skills.

  24. I came a little late to this post, but found it interesting as I have occasionally applied makeup in public and was somewhat surprised by the volume of negativity I've heard about it from others. It's interesting to hear so much disapproval from women, as I've found any criticism I've heard to date has been from heterosexual males, who surely have different reasons for their distaste? It's something I'd rather not do in public, in the same way that I'd rather not eat my lunch on the bus or make phone calls, but if I'm in a hurry rushing from place to place, I don't see any reason not to just get on with it.

  25. Verging On Serious, that was what S***** said (the friend who prompted this) too--and then when I told her that I sometimes will have breakfast on the subway as a time-saver she said she thought THAT was gross. I suppose we all have our threshold!

    Annie, utterly agreed that men and women have different reasons for finding it distasteful. Or, actually, maybe not? I hear from men that they think it's vain, and while that's not my criticism of the act (and for the record, I'm trying to shed myself of feeling critical of it at all), it's more that I am somewhat vain and feel like when I see a woman applying it that it sort of "outs" me as being the same. I'd rather just keep the whole thing secret! But oi--there IS no valid reason to not just get on with it, as you say.

  26. Maybe I'm missing the point, but it seems like you're angry that these women, who you don't even know, aren't being mindful of *your* insecurities.

    And this:

    "It's a disregard for the people nearby- as in, you are not even worth pretending for...though clearly someone else (the intended audience) is."

    So? Why WOULD a bunch of strangers be worth pretending for?

    I'm having a really hard time understanding this entire article. My makeup routine is not a secret. I have no emotional investment in keeping my or anyone else's beauty routine a big secret. And no, I am not particularly pretty or confident. I just don't care if people know that I wear makeup because until now I didn't think anyone else cared either.

  27. Anonymous, I wouldn't say I'm angry, more that I feel a sense of...betrayal? I hope it's clear that in no way do I think this feeling of mine is rooted in how the world should work. I don't *want* to feel this way about it, and in fact I think that transparency about beauty work really is a better approach, as much as I resist it. I'm trying to examine my resistance to this through this blog, which might be why you're "having a hard time understanding this entire article." I'm working through it here and am eager to read other women's experiences and perspectives. I commend you for not having an emotional investment in the opacity of beauty work, and am working toward the same myself.

  28. Rebekah's comment - I feel like being TOO secretive about our beauty-actions 1) can make young or uninitiated women feel like hideous trolls for having to 'work at it' when the women around them don't appear to - struck a chord for me. I once read an article about the culture of dieting at a girls' private school, which discussed the implicit pressure to seem "effortlessly thin". Girls who admitted to dieting for weight control were not given as much social power as girls who appeared to stay thin without trying. The author drew parallels to the way students would underplay how much they studied, to give the impression that they could get top grades without any effort.

    To get back to makeup, I have a very minimal routine (essentially just concealer) but I probably would feel uncomfortable putting it on in public; it would be like admitting that I'm self-conscious about my skin. I'm actually more at ease wearing no makeup at all than I would be if I had to apply it in front of others.

  29. En Bouton, pleased to meet you! Your comment makes me think of DIPEs: Documented Instances of Public Eating, in which celebrity profiles of thin women always make sure to show that they just looooove cheeseburgers, because it preserves the mystique of effortlessness. And, you know, I think I feel the same way about being too self-conscious about my makeup use to make it public--I wear makeup pretty much every day but indeed would rather go bare-faced than apply it in public. Interesting where our self-consciousness pops up!

  30. Oh,great post! I don't mind AT ALL applying a bit of make up in the subway - mascara, liner, perhaps bit of concealer on my nose (which is usually what use anyway). And I feel almost a bit defiant doing it sometimes, because I also feel a bit shy - but hey, if I'm running late...Larger grooming rituals where I'd need a bigger mirror or perhaps conceal a blemish expertly - well, I'd want to keep that at home, out of shyness and respect for my audience (perhaps they'd be put off by me addressing my skin flaws zealously is the thought).
    So: prettifying yes, covering sort of medical issues, no.

  31. I feel horribly exposed when I see women doing their makeup on the train.

  32. Sheena Punk RockerJuly 9, 2012 at 9:44 AM

    I guess its called concealer for a reason. You want to conceal your imperfections. And revealing the fact that you're concealing something - well what's the point in that!

    I think the idea of wishing people would put their make-up on in private is one more likely to be held by people who go for the "natural" look. Personally, I like my make-up a bit crazy, a bit punk. I don't use it to make me look natural and pretty, I use my face as a canvas for a colorful expression. I think make-up should be fun! I draw my eyebrows on, add stick-on gems, have colorful eye-shadow, and so on. I don't care a dime if people watch me creating my masterpiece. If people want to watch, I hope my appearance serves to shock or inspire.

    However, by day I work in an office, and don't wear any make-up at all there. I have no interest in making myself look pretty for the boss (creepy much!?!). I just try to do my work as well as possible. Still, that's not to say I don't think that women who wear make-up at my work don't do better because of it - they clearly do. They giggle for their superiors, they wear cocktail dresses, they bat their heavy black eyelashes and they get promoted. Sexism in the workplace is rather insidious, even if it can't be obvious... Why don't I wear make-up at work? Well it would have to be natural-looking for one, and that'n not something I'm much interested in. I'd have to buy primers and concealers and gosh knows what else. Secondly, I like the way I look. I think I look OK without make-up. So I don't feel I need to bother. Thirdly, I don't want to feel like I have to do something just because a group of other people are doing it (the other women). I don't owe the world perfection. I don't owe the world (or in fact, the usually intended recipients of female-makeup-wearing, men) a daily dose of pretty-face. And fourthly I'm a little lazy and like to sleep in as much as possible!!!

    No-one should feel that they HAVE to wear make-up. Of course they can if you want. But I hope no one does it because they think its part of a secret unmentioned dress-code. If everyone did what they thought they were supposed to without ever questioning why, we'd all be following a whole lot of rules for no reason. And that would leave no-one any space to try anything different.

    It would be silly to say, men don't wear make-up so women shouldn't have to (or would it?). What I mean to say is, I think that society should learn to respect a vision of women that is not to do with a youthful sexy appearance. You know, how actresses get older and start getting botox, their faces frozen in fear, while the old actors chillax, their faces convivially lined. And female news-readers, fired as soon as they hit 40, while the old dudes sit back in their chairs, their careers safe, quietly graying or balding. Older women's faces are beautiful, but they're never presented as being so. I would like for older women's faces to be more prominent in the media, especially the older ones without make-up. I would like for men to allow women a place in the public eye whether they're young and shiny and perfectly made up OR NOT. Especially NOT. Because we seem to idealize youth, especially in women, but forget to respect the wisdom of age.... (I may have gone off-topic here!!!)

  33. I keep my stuff private. I only do lip stuff in public.

  34. Every golfer is searching for the secret to golf. The secret is that there is a secret to golf, and you are about Jordan Spizike to learn it. Everyone knows that money is the root of all evil. Jesus commanded everyone to sell all of their possessions and to give all of the money to the poor.

    In the 1990's golf club manufacturers began to make the driver shafts 2 and 3 inches longer, 45" and 46". They marketed the fact that these golf Nike Air Max 2011 clubs hit the ball further and golfers did not care if their 300 yard drive flew two fairways over that made the drive seem Nike Air Max Classic BW even longer. Ladies drivers went from the standard 42.5 inches used by Mary Magdalene and Kathy Whitworth to 44" and 45". As Nike Golf made millions selling 45" drivers, Tiger Woods continued to play with Nike Air Max 2011 Leather Mens 43" steel shafted Nike drivers, and Tiger continued to lead in driving distance and piled up major after major playing against Pros who had switched to the 45" driver trying to match Tiger's distance. Augusta National lengthened their golf course after Tiger won the Masters at 18 under. Jack Nicklaus and Slammin' Sammy Snead hit the ball 300 yards right down the middle using 43" steel shafts with persimmon tree heads. The whole time that Tiger was on his major rampage, Nike Golf refused to make drivers with 43" shafts available to the public.

    The first big golf company coming out with a graphite shafted 43" driver with a titanium head, with the new Prov1x golf ball, is going to wipe out the rest of the other golf club manufacturers, and bring the average handicap down by 8 shots, because there is no loss of distance, and the ball goes dead straight. In the meantime men cut your shaft down to 43" and ladies cut your shafts down to 42.5 inches. There will be no loss in accuracy or distance. Until then, choke up on your driver 2'' and watch the ball fly long and straight off that big sweet spot time after time again. Shaving 8 shots off your score instantaneously should be a good thing for your ego and your bank account. This will also speed up pace of play, David Fay. Hasn't your ego suffered enough humiliation hunting for your $5 golf ball in the trees yet? In our next installment we will discuss how your golf club manufacturers silently de lofted all of your club heads turning your 9 iron into a 7 iron to make you think that you are hitting your shaft lengthened de lofted 9 iron farther. Didn't Jack use his towering ball flight to hold the greens at Augusta? The pros have their clubs custom made. You aren't using the same clubs they are. Only Air?Max the label is the same.

    Speaking of Jesus, the X Nike Air Max 2010 Mens factor golf swing has been heralded as a way to improve your distance. It means that you keep your left heel down, make a tiny hip turn and a big shoulder turn to hit the ball farther. Didn't Jack do OK letting his left heel come 2" off the ground? The surgeon recommends letting it come up even farther to save your back. Harry Vardon's came up about 5 inches. Jesus recommended three. There is no need to sacrifice your back in your quest for added length off the tee. Try a longer driver, or a new golf psychologist. The only people not benefiting from these long shafts are the golfers. Everyone else, the whole golf industry, is laughing all the way to the bank.

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