Beauty in the time of COVID-19: On makeup and mental health during lockdown
I’ve been re-reading a book called Station Eleven, by Emily St. John Mandel. It’s the story of, among other things, a group of artists called “The Traveling Symphony” struggling to carve out a life for themselves after a pandemic wipes out the world as we know it.
In one sense, quarantine has been “easy.” But in another sense, it hasn’t been. Here I will once again acknowledge my special circumstances: I am mentally ill, and my condition comes with depressive and anxious episodes. But even if I wasn’t a “clinical case,” the COVID-19 situation has produced feelings of fear and powerlessness - of being able to only watch through a screen as the world as we know falls apart - that have been incredibly difficult to push past.
Even the thought of ECQ finally lifting is little relief: there is so much still uncertain about “life after,” and what few predictions people have dared to make haven't exactly been good.
The plot of Station Eleven eerily mirrors today’s reality. Maybe that’s why, as I sit at home, trying to function "normally," I find myself gravitating to it. In particular, I re-read chapter 11, which begins with, "What was lost in the collapse: almost everything, almost everyone, but there is still such beauty.”
As I write this, it’s been 60 days since the start of quarantine. Since the pandemic hit home, I’ve tried to put on a brave face, telling myself over and over that with my workmates, team members, and friends all watching through screens, I cannot afford to look like I am out of control.
So I try not to. Some days, I succeed. Some days, though, I wake up gasping for air.
I discovered makeup back in 2016, which was coincidentally also when I discovered I was mentally ill. Back then, a full face of makeup was not just part of a daily beauty routine; it was an intentional act of mental discipline. Getting up early to paint my face would force me to make the choice to 1) get up and 2) actually do something. To a girl who felt like she was spiraling out of control, makeup and skincare routines were ways of taking back some of that agency.
Just as it was back in 2016, that "taking back” of some semblance of control has become a lifeline for me, as I grapple with the uncertainty and anxiety of a post-ECQ world. On the days I cannot breathe, cannot bring myself to get up…I make myself get up. I walk to my closet. I put on a nice outfit.
Then, before I dive into work, I sit at my desk and paint my face.
In the book “Rejected Princesses”, Jason Porath tells the story of WWII guerrilla general Remedios Gomez-Paraiso, aka "Kumander Liwayway.” A brilliant rebel fighter and leader, Kumander Liwayway was instrumental in winning critical battles, keeping her troops standing their ground while other squads would retreat. What made her famous, though, was that the night before a battle, she would paint her nails, do her hair, and wear bright lipstick.
When asked, once, why she took the time to have a beauty routine on the battlefield, she replied, “Because I am fighting for the right to be myself.”
In a previous article, Liz talked about how beauty products are a way to “...narrate who we are not just to others, but to ourselves.” In times like these, that self-narrative has become increasingly important. Every day, I do battle with anxiety, with the fear that something new will go wrong and I will be powerless to stop it. Every day, I worry about the post-ECQ world and what fresh hell it might bring for my work, my teammates, myself.
But every day, I fix my hair. I put on a nice outfit. I sit at my desk. I paint my face. There are many days I don’t feel like doing even this, but I still do. I exercise my agency, even in this small and, perhaps to most, meaningless way. I do it because I need to tell myself that, while the world and its prospects are out of my hands, in this moment, I still have control over something.
I still have control over myself.
In these tiny, fleeting acts of buffing on foundation and swiping on lipstick, I find the momentum I need to keep moving forward, to face, if not the future, then at least the rest of the day.
There’s a saying in the makeup community: YMMV. Your mileage may vary. Likewise, I’d be a fool to suggest that this specific way of coping will work for everyone. Makeup and skincare are no substitute, after all, for counseling and community and prescription medication.
If you are grasping for something, anything, to hold on to, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hold on to yourself.
But if, perhaps, you have woken up today gasping for air. If you are reading this in bed, overwhelmed by the bad news and even worse predictions for the future. If you are grasping for something, anything, to hold on to, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hold on to yourself. To go to your closet. To put on a nice outfit. To sit at your desk and paint your face.
To tell yourself that yes, there is a lot that has been lost and will be lost in this collapse, but there is still such beauty. Enough of it, at least, to face today.
Stay safe, stay sane, stay beautiful.
