A week is not enough to understand all the intricacies of a culture, but it is enough for an observer to do just that: observe.
When in France, the museums will beckon and the store displays will look inviting, but the best pastime is, arguably, neither of those things: no, it’s sipping an espresso, or, depending on the time of day, a glass of wine — all while watching the passerby go about their day-to-day lives. (It’s easy, as a tourist, to forget that we are theoretically trespassing in the streets and cafés that people call home.)
If one sits, like I did, and watches, like I did (this exercise can also be carried out on the metro or one’s local subway), it will soon become clear that French and American women approach their beauty routine, and indeed beauty itself, in radically different ways. Such a discovery, if it can be called that, is nothing new, of course: women on both sides of the Atlantic have been peeking at the habits of women on the other side to understand each other’s approaches.
Yet their routines are different. This is likely because individuals in each country are working within the context of their cultures — which leads to different standards. Maybe it’s not the beauty ideals that we hold ourselves up to that can be alternately empowering or damaging, but rather the societal expectations to which we’re reacting.
From behind an espresso, I saw countless women pass by who, were they transplanted in an American city, would immediately stand out for looking French. Here at home they blended in with everyone else, the only exception being their composure. Many strode down the street, hair arranged, eyes fixed on some point in the distance without looking towards a destination. Others sat a few seats away at another café, reading and sipping a glass of water —typically in the early evening, at rush hour.
They looked calm in a way that many Americans rarely do: neither rushing to an appointment, nor looking “radiant” in the way women are now expected to be on a daily basis thanks to the advent of foundation, bronzer, and highlighter; they looked unabashedly themselves. Yes, a presentable, put-together version of themselves, but one that did not attempt to present a different face to the world.
As articles here and here will tell you, French women focus on the canvas first. Everything else is secondary, and this is likely because French standards dictate, to a certain degree, that one takes care of what comes naturally before attempting to hide, enhance, or minimize.
Perhaps it’s a reaction to the pace of life: while the French are indeed always going somewhere, the pace of their lives is not as nearly as frenetic as ours. If there’s no need to rush, no goal to chase, no ladder to climb, it becomes much easier to take a long-game approach and think of beauty not as something that requires a reaction or a simple fix, but as an aspect of themselves requiring care and development over time — an investment, not something to be dealt with when problems appear.
Beauty standards don’t exist in a vacuum: they’re inherently a reaction to the world and culture we live in. In a society that throws new products almost daily, many, if not all, promising to fix a perceived flaw instantly, of course American beauty expectations cause anxiety. Apparently, we’re not using the right product, not enough of it, or not establishing rigorous seven-step regimen to be followed day and night.
Amid the noise and the rush, the goal of feeling (and thus looking) beautiful is lost. Though not true on an individual level, as a society, we value speed, efficiency, and novelty. These traits then permeate our beauty standards, leading us to believe that acne can be cured overnight if we just buy this new serum, rather than examining our habits and lifestyles.
Such a thing occurs because the standard against which many women and men measure themselves is an external one: it’s imposed upon us by the media, by influencers, by doctored photos on Instagram.
The French, on the other hand, understand that beauty is very much internal, and requires paying attention to what an individual needs to feel their best. Often, this feeling becomes apparent in one’s outward appearance. Here, beauty standards force us to treat ourselves like we’re a project: we constantly need to work on ourselves, whereas French culture emphasizes daily effort for the purpose of feeling one’s best. While this concept is widespread because of a larger societal standard, it is likely less suffocating because beauty is not viewed as an afterthought or in need of constant improvement.
That is not to say, of course, that the French ideal so feverishly copied around the world cannot present its own problems or possess its own limitations. Dewy skin, minimal makeup, perpetual hydration, and an air of nonchalance require their own cultivation, and in an ever-diversifying global culture that has access to images and content from countries halfway around the world, deviating from the standards of one’s society, even for personal well-being, can bring the pressures of any standard into sharp relief. Even for women who outwardly exemplify the simplicity and subtlety of French beauty, the day-to-day may not be nearly as effortless as it appears.
Beauty has always been centered around the concept of controlling what the outside world perceives of us; it’s more difficult to see someone’s struggles when their skin is flawless and their demeanor is calm. It doesn’t take many leaps of the imagination to understand that such standards can thus become suffocating.
While it may be easy to want to dispose of them, the task is far more difficult than expanding or freeing our definitions of beauty. Here in the US it requires a rethinking of our broader priorities. Care for ourselves cannot be encapsulated in a new tube of a supposed holy grail product — a quick fix — but rather in our day-to-day actions that together represent how we truly treat ourselves.
