Beauty is pain, or so the saying goes. But I’d like to rephrase that. Beauty is money, and if money is evil, then modern beauty standards are the devil on our shoulder telling us the one thing we know we’ve heard before: you’ll never be enough.
Alas, it’s safe to say that none of us are strangers to notions of beauty. We are constantly bombarded with, can’t help but crave; we’ve told ourselves that we’re too flawed, physically, to consider ourselves as beautiful, let alone have others share this belief.
In many ways, we’re slaves to that devil; and blind to the consequences of commodifying and comparing ourselves to those unknown figures behind the black mirror.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, social media has played a fundamental role in augmenting these modern standards of beauty. In fact, we consider this content as the standard to set our appearances against. Stuck in a vicious cycle, constantly comparing ourselves to others. There is no room for anything but perfect skin, perfect bodies, perfect fashion which distorts our sense of self-worth.
However, what we’re exposed to on socials is incredibly skewed. Algorithms act as the silent killer which drowns us in flawlessly lit perfection. For the most part, the carefully crafted algorithms of Instagram and of TikTok favour conventionally attractive creators, filtering out anything less ‘aspirational’. This makes most content completely unattainable for the regular person. But maybe that’s what makes it so addictive. The image is there, but always just out of reach, forcing us to strive for an unrealistic goal.
Additionally, the same influencers propped up by the algorithm, preaching self-care and self-love (which you can only achieve by purchasing whatever product they’re promoting), are themselves enhanced by filters.
I believe it’s these filters, seemingly simple tools, which have become the main distorters of our perception of real beauty. The idealised reality they present trap us in an echo chamber of unattainable standards where its psychological impacts, including exponentially higher rates of anxiety, depression and crippling body dysmorphia. This begs the question; is beauty as it’s defined by Instagram worth the price of our own happiness?
In the past, beauty may have been found in the eye of the beholder, but today? It’s found on the seven-inch screen glued to our hands.
As well as the psychological costs in adhering to these standards, it’s interesting to note how modern-day beauty is tied almost exclusively to expensive products, treatments and even invasive procedures. There’s a popular saying which has emerged in recent years; “You’re not ugly, just poor” which perfectly encapsulates how the price of beauty, bottled beauty that is, is completely unattainable to lower or even average income individuals. In light of the near impossibility in achieving that standard without expensive enhancements, we mustn’t forget; beauty is first and foremost pain.
So-called ‘self-care’, being that you can only achieve out of the bottle (or needle), is tethered intimately with notions of self-love. The problem is bottles run out and the ‘love’ we feel for ourselves in those brief moments is entirely dependent on our ability to repurchase them. Honestly, the sad truth is that most people can’t afford to be beautiful, at least so long as it’s defined by economic status.
Attractiveness is a powerful form of social currency, and those who adhere to the standards, or rather, those who can afford to, can appear get through life considerably easier.
Ultimately, the pursuit of modern beauty widens the gap between socio-economic classes. While you may not be ugly, just poor, the constant need to rebuy and reapply ensures that the poor stay poor and the rich always have beauty at their fingertips. Or rather, in their bathroom cabinet with La Mer splashed across the front.
Leveraging this notion that you can buy beauty, the beauty and wellness industries have had a relatively easy job at convincing us to ‘buy two, get hot now’.
In fact, these brands have preyed on our insecurities, integrating them into their business models and have effectively capitalised on our perceived flaws by promoting products which supposedly represent a ‘quick fix’.
Selling an idealised reality is hardly a new concept. As we can see, however, models and actors, often deemed the pinnacle of human attractiveness, have been used across multiple industries to sell a fantasy or more desirable reality, achieved through some random product. Social media has made it so much easier for brands to influence our behaviour and perception of ourselves like never before.
Use of celebrities has always been an effective marketing tool but with the rise of social media, the celebrity is out, and the influencer is in. Using popular content creators, beauty brands have been able to streamline their promotion, and push product after product on us by having that beauty influencer tell us how that moisturizer just cleared up her skin like nothing else.
Consumerism is an endless cycle and implores us to want more and more without considering the consequences, provides an interesting insight into how late-stage capitalism has cannibalised generations of self-worth by encouraging both an unattainable and simultaneously constantly evolving beauty standard.
However, through our consumeristic tendencies and susceptibility to the marketing tactics of these brands, we’re now locked in an endless loop of dissatisfaction. The constant emergence of new trends, new products, new faces and bodies, mean that in turn, we constantly feel inadequate and fight for the product we’ve been told will lessen that feeling. Therefore, lining of pockets of the very companies who made you feel this way in the first place.
Modern beauty standards, driven by money and corporate greed, have taught us to loathe ourselves rather than love. While modern beauty standards may not be subjective, at least nowadays, I think ultimately, they are. You are beautiful, and uniquely so, and no product or procedure will ever satisfy the desire to look like someone you weren’t meant too.
So, to summarise: You are enough, and frankly, you always were.
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