File Under: Subversive Gestures

It's an unfair fact of life that women who work in "beauty industries", while not entirely exonerated from creating and perpetuating the media myths about the way women should look, are as much as if not more at the mercy of those same myths.

I work in an advertising agency, which is considered glamorous [although I give you my solemn word it's not at all]. It's a young person's game, involving a great deal of energy and stamina. It's not for the faint of heart or mature of limb.

Even though our jobs aren't glamourous, we're selling glamour. And to sell pretty you have to look pretty. Here is where the standards that are perpetuated in every magazine ad, billboard and television commercial rebound to bite us all in the ass.

For women who work in this industry, there is intense pressure to look just right. For younger women, the current mode is to look appropriately sexy while remaining business-like. The recipe is in part a dash of boardroom mixed with a splash of secret dominatrix. If the suit is conservative, the top is tight or low-cut and the heels are high. It's preferable that hair be long, straight and highlighted. Did I mention the heels should be high? If it's a casual meeting or a day away from clients, low rise jeans with a flirty blouse will work. Oh, and high heels? Yep.

Add a final coating of makeup and you have the uniform.

If the pressure to look perfect for young women in advertising is a narrow line, the pressure for older women to stay current in their appearance is a tightwire journey along the thinnest of razor edges.

Even if I wake up tired or hungover, I can't skip makeup. Oh I suppose I could, but facing the silent condemnation (or the not so silent, the "Are you feeling okay?" or "You look tired today") isn't worth the price for the 10 minutes it takes to apply.

Thankfully we don't have a dress code, and I haven't worn a suit and pantyhose in ten years. I wear skirts if I feel like it, and could wear jeans every day if I wanted to, although that would raise some eyebrows. Still, it's a daily challenge to dress in a youthful manner without crossing the line into ludicrous by pouring myself into an outfit better suited for a woman twenty years younger and twenty pounds lighter than I.

I went gray prematurely, and have colored my hair for twenty years. I'm currently conducting a little science experiment - I've stopped coloring my hair. After twenty years it's a tedious process I'd rather chuck from my repertoire. Yet I'm ambiguous about it - on the one hand, [tiny voice] I'm too young to be gray [end tiny voice]. On the other hand, the money, time and effort it takes to keep the silver strands at bay are increasingly irrirating. On the third hand my opportunities for subversion are so few that I simply must give this a try.

The experiment is only six months old and like any paranoid modern woman I'm prepared with a box of color in the bathroom just in case the whole thing goes awry. So far I haven't heard any comments (believe me, my colleagues wouldn't hesitate to point out any grooming flaws in an instant), but every day I wonder when they will come.

The adage of men aging better than women is so much stuff and nonsense - it's a societal and media construct that for some insane reason, we've all bought into like a bunch of hooked trout.

The sexbot image demanded of women is unfair, degrading, and sexist, yet I keep up appearances to the extent I do because I must - I can't afford to be tossed aside simply because I'm tired of trying.

So I'll try subversion instead.