The Beauty Book

My friend and I were window shopping at the Glorietta one night when one dastardly thought hit us almost at the same time. "We’re not at all fashionable!" she blurted out as we longingly ran through a gorgeous corporate ensemble with our eyes as we stood outside a clothes store. We had both been complaining about our poor sartorial tastes since time immemorial and my friend, who was scheduled to leave for Spain in a few days, was in panic mode. The thought of being surrounded by tall women who all resembled Dayanara Torres for one full year was quite daunting. She figured that the only way to salvage her self-esteem was to overhaul her wardrobe. I, who had nowhere to go and nothing to do, had similar fashion anxieties but they were moderate compared to mi Barcelona-bound amiga.

"You’re right," I said in my best Jessica Zafra impression. "And staring at clothes we can’t afford is not helping us any."

This little incident led me to buy my friend the most appropriate going-away present: a beauty book filled with tips on how to make herself pretty. Make no mistake, though. My friend is Ruffa Gutierrez’s doppelganger and she has a way of making men trip on themselves when they see her. The problem is, she has friends who grace the runway and have enough money in the bank to further enhance their God-given assets. My friend got stuck with the idea that she won’t ever be as alluring as her model friends despite being gifted with good looks and a brain – a brilliant one at that.

And so, to appease her, I decided to buy the dang beauty book (it cost me a fortune). It’s about an inch think and has no pictures – just text that instructs the reader on how to shave unwanted hair properly, when to wear pearls and what kind of shampoo to use on dull, limp hair, etc. etc. I thought it was quite a find and it has everything she ever wanted to know about primping.

I myself seem to be having problems dealing with beauty. I bought People Magazine’s special double issue on The 50 Most Beautiful People of 2002. Why? I like seeing beautiful things and nice looking humans. Who doesn’t? What I hated was that these 50 demi-gods were made to appear like they don’t care about their appearance at all! The articles downplayed their beauty rituals and reduced them to "washing with soap and water". Won’t anybody from Hollywood be honest enough to admit that half their million-dollar earnings go to stylists’ salaries? Won’t anyone acknowledge the fact that it takes a village to get Nicole Kidman to look smashing?

I know, I know. If I am to have a healthy self-image, I shouldn’t be reading those trashy fashion magazines. I thank the heavens for Tyra Banks who said some models use duct tape to hide their cellulite during photo shoots! Tyra, you’re an angel!

What is beauty? I’ve heard a lot of wise women say it comes from within. (Of course the stuck-up and smart-allecky would say innards are never beautiful but who listens to them, anyway?) I believe real beauty comes from knowing that you are beautiful. It doesn’t matter if you’re wearing a Dolce & Gabbana jacket or a sweatshirt from the ukay-ukay. The true measure of one’s beauty is the way one carries himself or herself. If you walk with your head up high and vibrancy in each step, you’ll be more of a showstopper than the slouching Zhang Ziyi look-alike. I’m kidding, of course.

I guess what I’m getting at is: beauty is what comes out of you and not what you want to take in. If your heart is full of envy, greed, sloth, and whatever other sins there are, you’re sure to lose beauty points.

My friend left for Spain a few days ago and had no more time to see me. So now I’m stuck with a very expensive book with no pictures.

E-mail the author at lmpilapil@philtown.com.ph