Dove’s latest Real Beauty campaign has been making its way around the media and my Facebook page. In it, a police sketch artist draws women as they describe themselves, and then as other people describe them. The latter sketch is better-looking than the former, a heartwarming affirmation that we always see ourselves worse than other people see us.
I hate this campaign.
Images from this amazing Creative Commons collection of Women in World War II. Except for the Russian women. Everything is creative commons in Russia.
While Mr. B and I were in New Orleans, it was cold. Super-cold. Cold enough that we hadn’t planned for it. Isn’t the South always supposed to be perma-warm like that spot on the floor that always gets the sun?
Long story short, we had to buy clothes on vacation.
First things first. Oh, the irony:
Then, for five seconds, this was an option:
Until I realized I had become every woman I see at the Russian store. And I became terrified.
Why do Russian women love fur? What is it that brings out the fur coats, the fur collars, the leather? And why do American women hate them?
I’m guessing it has something to do with this:
Although I’m too lazy to research. So I’m crowd-sourcing.
Also, I did find this:
Yesterday, I was reading The Economist.
We get The Economist once a week and I put it on our coffee table to make it look like we know what we’re talking about (“Did you know Indonesia is at a crossroads? It is!”)
It’s been a while since one of these, right?
