Yesterday I was shopping with a friend when the topic of makeup - specifically, my wearing next to none - came up. Notably enough, it's something that several friends have mentioned to me recently. "M, you're not in your early twenties anymore, and at this age you can't get away with wearing no makeup the way you did before," said another well-intentioned confidante in reference to my approaching thirtieth birthday. So, in an act of surrender, I submitted my face to the full treatment before going out last night - eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, bronzer, other tools that I can't quite remember or put on myself...
In the course of applying the complicated paint, my friend R and I got into a discussion about sexiness. See, despite my ardent love of fashion, I'm the girl who wears boots and a sweater (and only a little lip gloss and tinted moisturizer) to a bar. The traditional uniform - namely a low-cut top and smoke eyes - does not suit me. Yes, I will wear the occasional mini dress, but that's as far as it goes. So whilst giving me a lesson in makeup, I was also schooled in the Art of Sexy. My blue bra? Decidedly not. Winter-pale skin? Nope. Cotton underwear? A horror! (And one several ex-boyfriends lamented, adding "you have such a nice body, why don't you ever wear anything that reveals it?"). What about sexy lingerie, my friend inquired. Didn't I have any black thongs? Yes, a couple that I wear when necessary, but I don't like them. Black lacy bras? Maybe one buried deep within my dresser drawers...Such things were necessary when going out, even on a first date when (ostensibly) no one would see them. Because they're sexy. It's important to always be sexy.
Personally, my logic has always been that expensive lingerie, except on certain occasions, was kind of a waste of money. With limited resources, shoes and travel always have taken priority. I don't not wear revealing clothing because I am ashamed of my body, but because being ogled is not something I particularly enjoy. And in all honesty, I'm not too good at seducing men. (I cringe in abject horror at one failed attempt to woo a particularly attractive guy on my last vacation...Let's just say that it's not my forte and leave it at that). But maybe everyone was right. Maybe I had gone terribly astray. Was I squandering youth - what may possibly be the time of my life when I look my best - on granny panties (God I hate that word, but sometimes nothing else will do!) and a stubborn refusal to flaunt my assets? Maybe I should take their advice. Even if I feel like an impostor or a phony. In time I will get better, right? And I do want to be sexy, don't I?
In the shower this morning I pondered it. What was "sexy" anyway? I thought about what I found sexy in others - intelligence, compassion, a sense of social conscience, self-deprecation, a penchant for the eccentric and unusual, good taste in music...Muscles, rock hard abs and a swagger have never impressed me in men. I like glasses. I like a raucous laugh and the ability to make a fool of oneself with abandon.
So I guess sexiness, like beauty, is really highly individual. And by taking on another persona, I will be playing a part - something that, to me, is the least sexy thing a person can do. So I'm not going to run out and toss my aqua bra and don a halter. In the spirit of compromise and change, however, I will probably invest in some mascara...
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