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Be your beautiful selfie – by buying into Dove Be your beautiful selfie – by buying into Dove
(2 months later)
Last week, perusing some holiday snapshots on Facebook with a friend, I paused over a particularly flattering bikini bod shot. "That's a great photo", I said to her, thinking how fit she looked as she frolicked at the edge of the surf looking like a sidebar of shame pap snap. "It had better be," she replied. "It took 25 shots to get that picture."Last week, perusing some holiday snapshots on Facebook with a friend, I paused over a particularly flattering bikini bod shot. "That's a great photo", I said to her, thinking how fit she looked as she frolicked at the edge of the surf looking like a sidebar of shame pap snap. "It had better be," she replied. "It took 25 shots to get that picture."
Sadly, in this exhibitionistic age of social media PR, this revelation did not surprise me one bit. Nor did a recent survey that suggests that 40% of women have digitally enhanced photographs of themselves before uploading them to social networks, not to mention the half (only half?) of us who detag or delete the ones in which we believe ourselves to look especially loathsome. Indeed, the enticing ability to control one's own image probably accounts for the popularity of photo-sharing websites such as Instagram, where you're much less likely to get tagged in a triple-chinned mugshot than you are on Facebook, a site notorious for having removed entirely whatever remnants of consent or ownership you had over your own mug, pre-internet.Sadly, in this exhibitionistic age of social media PR, this revelation did not surprise me one bit. Nor did a recent survey that suggests that 40% of women have digitally enhanced photographs of themselves before uploading them to social networks, not to mention the half (only half?) of us who detag or delete the ones in which we believe ourselves to look especially loathsome. Indeed, the enticing ability to control one's own image probably accounts for the popularity of photo-sharing websites such as Instagram, where you're much less likely to get tagged in a triple-chinned mugshot than you are on Facebook, a site notorious for having removed entirely whatever remnants of consent or ownership you had over your own mug, pre-internet.
Such is the ubiquity of cameras these days – they pop up in every conceivable scenario and situation, whether it's asshats taking pictures of their own dinner in restaurants or bigger asshats taking pictures of the art in galleries (this is a particular pet hate of mine – why not buy a postcard?). And that's without mentioning selfies, the ultimate form of asshattery, a form shameless in its narcissism and which, regardless of how famous you are, always makes you look as though you have no friends. Although, better a life of solitude than a bunch of mates hellbent on capturing your face in side profile, I always say.Such is the ubiquity of cameras these days – they pop up in every conceivable scenario and situation, whether it's asshats taking pictures of their own dinner in restaurants or bigger asshats taking pictures of the art in galleries (this is a particular pet hate of mine – why not buy a postcard?). And that's without mentioning selfies, the ultimate form of asshattery, a form shameless in its narcissism and which, regardless of how famous you are, always makes you look as though you have no friends. Although, better a life of solitude than a bunch of mates hellbent on capturing your face in side profile, I always say.
The female resistance to cameras has reached such a scale that Dove – beauty company and official boss of determining whether anyone in possession of a vagina can be deemed real or fictitious – not only produced the survey I've referenced but has also turned the whole concept into a cutesy advert.The female resistance to cameras has reached such a scale that Dove – beauty company and official boss of determining whether anyone in possession of a vagina can be deemed real or fictitious – not only produced the survey I've referenced but has also turned the whole concept into a cutesy advert.
The clip shows various women smilingly holding their palms up to the lens, hiding their faces in cushions, and remaining sexily irritated at having a camera shoved in their faces, all accompanied by a cloying "Peek-a-boo" soundtrack that implies all members of our gender should be dispatched immediately to a remedial kindergarten.The clip shows various women smilingly holding their palms up to the lens, hiding their faces in cushions, and remaining sexily irritated at having a camera shoved in their faces, all accompanied by a cloying "Peek-a-boo" soundtrack that implies all members of our gender should be dispatched immediately to a remedial kindergarten.
Of course, everyone knows that this is not a real depiction of how things pan out, because otherwise the advert would conclude with an incredibly vexed woman hissing, "Fuckofffuckofffuckoff", at her partner, before throwing the smartphone at his head. Instead, it ends with the tagline: "Be your beautiful self", a goal that can presumably only be achieved by allowing all and sundry to photograph you endlessly, preferably at the same time as you tearfully smother Dove anti-cellulite intensive firming gel into your lumpen cottage cheesy thighs.Of course, everyone knows that this is not a real depiction of how things pan out, because otherwise the advert would conclude with an incredibly vexed woman hissing, "Fuckofffuckofffuckoff", at her partner, before throwing the smartphone at his head. Instead, it ends with the tagline: "Be your beautiful self", a goal that can presumably only be achieved by allowing all and sundry to photograph you endlessly, preferably at the same time as you tearfully smother Dove anti-cellulite intensive firming gel into your lumpen cottage cheesy thighs.
I have no doubt that, as Dove claims, the endless documentation of everything via the internet is making women more insecure about their bodies (and therefore in need of more Dove products). The internet was supposed to be a tool for democracy; a medium that showed us that there are different faces and bodies out there, and different definitions of female beauty. That the be-all and end-all wasn't whether or not you looked like a white, blonde goddess, but the things we think and feel. Instead, we're seeing mainstream media's attitudes towards feminine beauty transposed online, to the point where we're airbrushing ourselves. Your Facebook now says as much about your reality as a publicist would, with less panache.I have no doubt that, as Dove claims, the endless documentation of everything via the internet is making women more insecure about their bodies (and therefore in need of more Dove products). The internet was supposed to be a tool for democracy; a medium that showed us that there are different faces and bodies out there, and different definitions of female beauty. That the be-all and end-all wasn't whether or not you looked like a white, blonde goddess, but the things we think and feel. Instead, we're seeing mainstream media's attitudes towards feminine beauty transposed online, to the point where we're airbrushing ourselves. Your Facebook now says as much about your reality as a publicist would, with less panache.
All this shows that it isn't so much about the medium than it is about the need for a cultural shift. These tyrannical beauty ideals forced upon women are rooted in archaic expectations of what our roles should be – decorative, mostly, which is why I find Dove telling us to suck it up and submit so nauseatingly disingenuous. With the diverse range of women it features, it aims to hold itself up as a counterpoint to the homogeneity we see elsewhere, but it is hypocrisy.All this shows that it isn't so much about the medium than it is about the need for a cultural shift. These tyrannical beauty ideals forced upon women are rooted in archaic expectations of what our roles should be – decorative, mostly, which is why I find Dove telling us to suck it up and submit so nauseatingly disingenuous. With the diverse range of women it features, it aims to hold itself up as a counterpoint to the homogeneity we see elsewhere, but it is hypocrisy.
Rather than hold a mirror up to society, Dove tells us to hold a mirror up to ourselves, and to like what we see, or else. I'm sick of their pally, sugar-coated admonitions to be my beautiful self. The advertising execs are probably sitting in their offices now, feeling insufferably smug about how they are the only beauty brand to reflect true diversity, when in fact all they're doing is increasing their customer base.Rather than hold a mirror up to society, Dove tells us to hold a mirror up to ourselves, and to like what we see, or else. I'm sick of their pally, sugar-coated admonitions to be my beautiful self. The advertising execs are probably sitting in their offices now, feeling insufferably smug about how they are the only beauty brand to reflect true diversity, when in fact all they're doing is increasing their customer base.
There was a time when beauty companies would flog their products by pointing out all the things that are wrong with you, and many still do. What Dove does now is point out that there is nothing wrong with you except your persistent belief that everything is wrong with you. It's suitably 21st-century meta, but it's also bullshit, and I hate it. Most of all, I hate how well it works.There was a time when beauty companies would flog their products by pointing out all the things that are wrong with you, and many still do. What Dove does now is point out that there is nothing wrong with you except your persistent belief that everything is wrong with you. It's suitably 21st-century meta, but it's also bullshit, and I hate it. Most of all, I hate how well it works.
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