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The Cure for Vanity
I found a quotation by Tom Wolfe about vanity: “The surest cure for vanity is loneliness.” I think he’s right; if we have no one to see us or hear us or flatter us, we can simply be who we are.
Speaking of “being who we are,” at times I envy women who have no interest in make-up or primping themselves for others or even for themselves; their lives are simpler. No budgeting money for make-up, hairstyle stuff, skin toners, wrinkle remover products—just being their natural selves. No time needed for putting all that stuff on or taking it off.
My envy doesn’t last long, though. As a fair-skinned blonde, I have to do some things.
Still, in spite of my vanity, I don’t wear a whole lot of make-up; I can dash it on in a couple of minutes. And I often get compliments on my hair: it’s naturally curly, and I get “foils” (for the uneducated, color added) to, ahem, deal with the discoloration of my hair. Yes, I mean gray! But over the years, as I mentioned in a previous post, I have noticed my hair is turning silver. A beautiful silver, actually, like my mother had. So I went through this silly debate in my head: should I let it grow out to its natural silver color?
Even though it would reduce her income, my hairdresser thought it would be a great idea. She told me anecdotes about women who had decided to let their hair grow out to silver, and to this day, they still love it. Only one woman couldn’t stand it: put it back to color, she declared.
Now some of you, especially you guys, think this is an easy decision. You may be right—I do tend to complicate things. Yet there is a recognition that goes with “going silver”: I’m getting old.
Now some of you will protest and try to soothe me with comments that I’m not that old. I’m just maturing. But what does that mean? I’m certainly not young, although in some ways I’d like to think I’m young at heart. But at times I’m also a cranky old biddy. I’m entitled to be cranky at nearly 70 years old.
I think that my recognition of my “oldness” is not a statement of resignation, but a recognition of my place on life’s path. I’m on this amazing journey, doing what I love, embracing my friendships, writing often. I’ve earned the right to call myself whatever I wish, including “old.” Sure, the body is starting to show signs of wear—well, okay, it’s been showing signs of wear for a while! But I’ve earned my wrinkles, and I’m in darn good shape, with my aches and pains.
So what does my silver hair represent? First, I never could have imagined that I would be as spry as I am at this point. Nearly 70 seemed old, even when I was 50. But I look around me and I see lots of people who shuffle, lean over when they walk, and seem to be dragging themselves through life. I catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window and I’m bouncing along with a spring in my step. How lucky I am! But I also work at keeping relatively fit. If I am vain, it’s about not resigning myself to immobility, to mediocrity, to loneliness. I’m also keenly aware that my well-being could change in an instant. Everything changes.
Will my silver hair make me look old? Or as old as I actually am? Maybe. But there is also something rewarding about being satisfied, just where I am. Not complacent, but acknowledging that my silver hair, like the metal, is a treasure, a gift of time.
So the question is easy, as is the answer.
Shall I go silver? Yes, indeed.
Published in Culture
I am not particularly vain and my appearance often (always?) reveals that. I have also had difficulty taking compliments. It took many years to learn to simply say “thank you” rather than deflect or deprecate. I think the two (vanity and self-esteem) are synonymous and you can have too little as well as too much. “Vanity” is the word we use when we think there is too much, but too little is just as problematic.
I wonder if that’s a “guy thing.” I had to teach my husband to just say thank you! He struggled with it, but now he realizes that it’s not only a gift to the “thanker,” but also to himself. We’ve learned to thank each other a lot! Thanks, @rodin.
Let it go silver. I did, many years ago, in my late 40s. Went from what was then called color weaving to white without any problems. I really feel sad for my friends with colored hair and exposed roots. Everyone always complemented me on my white hair and I know I influenced a few to follow suit. Not as many complements now but probably because my face and body have caught up to my hair color.
Thanks for the encouragement, @onlinepark! And we called it “weaving” in CA–I’ve been in FL so long that I couldn’t remember the term! I’m glad you have enjoyed the switch.
The glory of the young is their strength; the gray hair of experience is the splendor of the old.
Proverbs 20:29 (New Living Translation)
When I start to get grumpy about the work that I have to do, I try to remember to thank G0d that I am still able to do it. So, hey there, ms. Splendiferous! @susanquinn
Thanks, @joelb. What a great quote from Proverbs! It reminds me that in Asian countries, seniors are treated with deference and kindness. I found this true in Israel, too. I must add, too, that there have been a few times, in airports and restaurants, when I’ve dropped something and a young person has hurried to pick it up for me. For a while, I wondered why. Then I realized that even with my hair colored, they recognized my “seniority.” It’s a very sweet gesture when young folks do it; it gives me hope for a future where we can hope they are respectful as they mature, too.
Edit: oh, and splendiferous?! Wow!
Why? Why would we expect those who, on the one hand, we admire for their resilience and wisdom of old age, to also be entitled to be cranky and obnoxious? Did you repress your crankiness at 20, 40, 0r 60, and now feel like you can finally be yourself? Or, as you now see everything through the lens of 70 years of experience just find more to gripe about?
Just curious.
All of the above!
Now that wasn’t cranky–only meant to be funny! Actually I think I complained a lot when I was younger. I was a perfectionist who found fault in a lot of things and in people, too. It didn’t do much to build relationships, needless to say! So I changed my direction and am now a recovering perfectionist. At nearly 70, I don’t have much to gripe about, but I just feel entitled! ;-)
One of the women at work, when she found out what color her hair was going to be after turning, dyed it that color to keep from having roots one color and ends another.
And “A grey head is a a sign of wisdom. It is gained in a righteous life.”
For what it’s worth, here’s my opinion. If you have pretty silver white hair, it should look great and not aging.
However, when I lived in Texas and had just taken very early retirement (50), I started going to a water aerobics class. The ages of the other women in the class were mid-60’s to mid-80’s. Once I got to know them and knew who was who, I discovered that the women in their mid-70’s and up who colored their hair looked younger and more energetic that the women in their 60’s who did not.
Kind of made up my mind.
Good for you. Most American women wear too much make-up, in my opinion. Sonetimes it seems a woman looks worst when she tries to look her best… which is to say that she cakes on the make-up for special events.
I disagree with the quote. Lonely people are often very vain. They drown in “Woe is me!” reflections and wishful fantasies.
Changing ourselves to suit others is one type of vanity. But vanity is ultimately selfish focus, which can occur for many reasons.
Wonderful!
I’ve never colored my hair because I knew I’d have a hard time with the upkeep. IOW, I’d have 2-inch roots! Also, my husband thinks my hair is great and coloring it would be fake. I’m happy to go gray naturally (I’ve earned every gray hair!!) and I hope to eventually go silver like my mom.
As for older women coloring their hair – it depends on the color. My grandmother used a rinse that was jet black. She was fooling no one. A woman at my church spent a small fortune coloring her hair (her husband joked that her hair was chemically dependent) and it always looked great, if maybe a tad unnatural for her age. She decided to let her shoulder-length hair return to its natural gray. It was a months-long process going from very dark to gray and shoulder-length to pixie length. Although it was weirdly fascinating to watch the transformation, I’d hate to go through it myself.
Not sure I agree with your first conclusion. I don’t think lonely people are vain; they may be very self-centered, but I doubt they think they are special. They may have fantasies because they have so little that they appreciate in their lives, and so they escape. But I don’t think that’s vanity.
On the other hand your second point is spot on. But then we can agree to disagree! I’m not vain about that!
That’s interesting. I never really thought of the two together, but when you put it like that, I can certainly see a relationship. Although I can think of one thing that distinguishes the two: vanity seeks approval whereas self-esteem expects it.
I love that–hair that is chemically dependent! @kimk, I think my transformation will be more subtle. I am still going to go for a couple of coil/weave treatments, and my hairdresser is going to move my color toward the silver. I don’t understand how that works, but I trust her. Thanks for the encouragement!
Thanks so much for this story, @eb. I’ve spent the last half-hour thinking about how I feel about others’ assessment of my age. It sounds strange, but I don’t think I’m much concerned about it. If they describe me as old, it’s fine. I’ve never understood why women refuse to tell their age–now that is vanity (no offense to any of you who feel that way). I’ve never felt the need to keep it a secret. Whether people think I’m much older than 70, much younger than 70, or just 70, it’s all fine. I think our culture is so indoctrinated to celebrate youth and discount those who are older, that especially we women feel we need to keep trying to look younger! Don’t misunderstand–I’ve tried to be clear that I try to look nice, to men and women. But especially if I’m not trying to attract a man (and my husband says he’s fine with me just the way I am–so he says–), why should I try to look younger?
Do any of you older women have any thoughts on this? I still have to contemplate this whole age thing and see if I’m being honest with myself!
Yes, vanity is generally associated with self-flattery. But I don’t think that’s the heart of it. Rather, vanity is attention to oneself to exclusion of others.
Our focus is meant to be on God and our neighbors… and through such outward concern we serve ourselves to become healthy and virtuous. Of course, one must also love oneself or else hinder love of others.
“All is vanity” says the king of Jerusalem in Ecclesiastes. The self-flattery he means is self-importance. Before the 20th century, vanity was often contrasted with humility. A person flatters himself by pretending he is the center of the universe and prioritizing his own happiness. Humble service is the true path to happiness.
Thanks so much, Aaron. Beautifully said. Now I understand.
I know nothing about make up, but I disagree about the loneliness.
I love being alone.
Me too! But are you not less vain when alone? Also, their is a difference between loneliness and being alone – it might seem an unimportant distinction, but it is a significant one nonetheless.
Good for you, Susan. I’m not a “make up” person myself. Too much money, and too much effort, for too little result. Same deal with my hair. I think many redheads (my mother was one) luck out there, in that the signs of “maturity and wisdom” come in white rather than grey, and sprinkled throughout–I’ve had several people ask if I’d had mine “foiled” or “frosted.” First couple of times, I was a bit taken aback, but it is what it is, and it’s the sign of a pretty contented life, for the most part pretty well lived, so I don’t mind. Welcome to the club. I often think, if it’s good enough for Emmylou Harris, it’s good enough for me.
I’m not sure I agree with Tom Wolfe, though. Perhaps some of it depends on the reason a person is lonely. Those who are overly vain and flatter themselves to excess can drive people away, and when they do, they often don’t have the self-awareness to realize why, so they don’t reflect on it and their their vanity or self-importance doesn’t diminish; in fact, it can get worse. Those who are terribly insecure and who don’t attract a lot of friends can pay too much attention to superficialities to try to make themselves more popular and attractive, even when it doesn’t work. I dunno. I think, perhaps, “lonely” isn’t quite the right word, but then, I am not sure what the cure for vanity is. Bonfires, maybe. The inspiration for the title of Wolfe’s novel was the late fifteenth century Florentine Church-led burnings of accessories considered “occasions of sin” by the Dominican, Savanarola–such things as mirrors, beautiful clothes, and cosmetics. That might do it!
That’s the narrative and the conventional wisdom; I’ve never really paid any attention to it. I think it’s possible to want to look nice, and to take care of oneself, without going overboard and becoming obsessed with the fountain of youth.
You shouldn’t. As Fred Rodgers would say, “I like you just the way your are. I’m sure Mr. Susan feels the same way. Because he has sense.
I’ll be 65 tomorrow (not jonesing for HB wishes, but it seems like a timely “full disclosure” statement in view of your inquiry), and I’m perfectly fine with that. Creaking a bit here and there, takes me a bit longer to get going in the morning, and I find I don’t have the inexhaustible energy I once did, nor can I manage quite as many things on my plate as I used to (in both the literal and figurative sense). Gravity takes its toll, as it does with most of us at some point, but I’m loving being a granny, I love my people, I love my garden, I love my animals, and I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet. Perhaps I still have a thing or two to offer the world. We’ll see. You know what they say–“The older the violin, the sweeter the music!”
Last year I thought about what I would do if I decided to stop coloring, (how, when, etc.) I found a lot of articles on the web. Here are a few of them, not necessarily for how to do it, but how these women decided, if they were happy, etc. They were interesting. If you want more, just Google “going gray.”
Transitioning
Four women going gray
Going, going, gray
Happy Birthday!!!
I rarely tell my age. Mostly it’s because I want people to take me as they find me, not put me in a pigeonhole and react to me based on their opinion about what someone my age is like. (And yes, I’m sure part of it is vanity.)
The exception is when some service person in their 20’s (and it’s always a guy) calls me “young lady.” That really gets up my nose. First of all, I’m not so pathetic that I would be flattered by that. Secondly, it’s condescending. Thirdly, it’s obvious that I’m not young.
I have started calling them on it. “How are you, young lady?” “Well, I’m not young.” The boy teller immediately said, “Yes, ma’am.” Sometimes I’m pretty nice, sometimes I’m pretty blunt.
It’s quite a presumption to say I’m ever vain, let alone more or less vain.
The nice man in the Home Depot plumbing department (the one who actually knows what he’s doing) always calls me “Miss.” It used to annoy me; now I find it kind of charming. (He’s a geezer too).
Is it? I’d figure you’d have to be pretty special to be devoid of vanity. If so, good for you!