Wednesday 2nd December

There was always “Glamour”, but it was once reserved for Royalty and Aristocracy.  Then slowly the Merchant Class emerged, followed by the vast ranks of the Middle Classes and “Glamour” followed in its wake.  “Glamour”, the artificial (or occasionally) natural enhancement of one-self, the attempt to make you look better than you think you might look.

Then between the World Wars “Glamour” really hit the working classes, driven by the ultimate artifice of Hollywood; film stars lit by Kleig spotlights and smothered in white make-up somehow represented a desirability to lift us out of the drab and grime of our mundane existences.  I can remember the early sixties, spending hours in front of a mirror trying to get your hair to look ‘cool’, and begging my parents for a black polo-neck sweater, just like I saw the Beatles in a photo-shoot wearing.  And the girls back-combed their hair and wore bright red lipstick and dark eye-shadow just like Mary Quant.

But the “Glamour” industry really took off in the eighties, where it seemed that looking good was far more important than anything you might be thinking or have to say.  Looking back it was a very artificial time, pop-groups went for “Glamour” over the music, magazines were full of glossy adverts, millions were walking about in Burberry check, and even baseball caps were ‘designer’.  Politics too soon became Style over Substance, and all to appear somehow “Glamorous”.  But if you just paused for a moment, stood back and looked properly you could see the ridiculous shoulder pads, the hair extensions, the false eyelashes for what they were.

The trouble with “Glamour” is that you cannot mass-market exclusivity.  Hollywood stars were “Glamourous” largely because this “Glamour” was simply unimaginable, unobtainable and represented a completely different life-style.  But when “Glamour” is available for all it simply becomes meaningless; just as Champagne would lose its appeal if it were as cheap as Asti.  And so now we have ‘High Street Glamour’ everywhere, where artifice and a bland regime rules; it is now almost shocking not to look “Glamourous”, not to wear bling, not to try to look “Gorgeous, Darling”, no matter how old you really are.  But in truth natural and ageing faces are beautiful in themselves, they don’t need foundation and lipstick and eye-liner (or plastic surgery).  Hair turning gently grey looks lovely – you don’t need to die it.  And younger women too look far better with no make-up, no lipstick and artifice.  Let’s leave “Glamour” up on the silver screen and return to just being ourselves for a change (but I don’t hold out much hope).