Let's Just Say It Wasn't Pretty

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

INTRODUCTION: WRONG IS RIGHT

PRISONERS ON MY WALL

CORRECTIONS

BAD HAIR DAYS

THE EYES HAVE IT

TURTLENECKS AND TIES, BIKINIS AND BRAS

WHAT IS BEAUTY?

SIZE TEN

THE DREAM OR THE NEIGHBORHOOD?

OLD IS GOLD

IN ONE EAR AND OUT THE OTHER

HEALING HUMOR

IN LOVE WITH THE NIGHT

Dedication

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Other Books by This Author

About the Author

I’ve always loved independent women, outspoken women, eccentric women, funny women, flawed women. When someone says about a woman, “I’m sorry, that’s just wrong,” I tend to think she must be doing something right. Take Diana Vreeland, the legendary editor in chief of
Vogue
. Vreeland was many things, but a classic beauty wasn’t one of them. Her mother called her “my ugly little monster.” Guess what? That didn’t get in her way. Vreeland paraded around with a head of glossy
pitch-black hair until the day she died, at age eighty-five. She defied every rule of aging gracefully. She thrived in the big-time world of Beauty, yet was not enslaved by it. Diana conjured a world where “you’ve gotta have style. It helps you get down the stairs. It helps you get up in the morning. It’s a way of life. Without it you’re nobody.”

I respect women who aren’t afraid to push the envelope, women who are inappropriate, women who do what you aren’t supposed to. Women like Katharine Hepburn. Didn’t she wear pants under a Chairman Mao tunic to the Academy Awards? No gown? No jewels? No stylist? No posing on the red carpet? Outrageous! And what about twenty-seven-year-old Lena Dunham, who has redefined what a star can look like. I think she’s one of the most beautiful women on TV. Her HBO series
Girls
has hit a raw nerve with some reviewers. “One reason that
Girls
is unsettling is that it is an acerbic, deadpan reminder that human nature doesn’t change,” wrote Alessandra Stanley of
The New York Times
. “As funny and creative as her show may be,” wrote Robert Bianco in
USA Today
, “there’s little doubt
Girls
will be too explicit, too New York–specific, and too young-and-female-centric to appeal to everyone.” That’s the point: Why try to appeal to everyone?

I have a soft spot for women like Phyllis Diller. Remember her running after the garbage truck as it pulled away from the curb, yelling, “Am I too late for the trash?” “No,” said the
driver. “Jump right in!” I admire women like Joan Rivers, even though I can’t count how many times she’s hauled me before her Fashion Police. Look, it’s hard not to love a woman who can laugh about the fact that an animated show once featured her as a vagina that had received too much plastic surgery. Joan, Phyllis, and Totie Fields were among the first to openly discuss their multiple cosmetic surgeries. It takes strength to fess up to your imperfections. People have asked me why I’ve never had work done. The truth is I respect women who have had work done just as much as I respect those who haven’t. We’re all just trying to get through the day.

In my early twenties I used to torture Woody with my insecurities: Would I ever be cast in a great movie? Would my slightly-but-definitely-noticeable crooked nose keep me from getting work? Looking back, I don’t know how Woody put up with me. For a year and a half the only job I’d been cast in was the recurring role of a young woman running around in a tracksuit uttering “Hour After Hour won’t wear off till the day is over.” That’s right, no one would hire me, except to sell underarm deodorant. I asked Woody if he thought I was crazy to keep flying to California to audition for films like Anthony Newley’s
Summertree
only to lose out to actresses like Brenda Vaccaro. And even if I landed one of those roles, would I ever have a career? Woody told me I didn’t have to worry. You’re funny, he said, and funny is money. I looked at him and
thought, Is this guy nuts? Funny women told jokes. I wouldn’t know a joke if it hit me in the face. Funny women knew where the punch line came. I was always fumbling for the right thing to say. Funny women like Joan Davis from
I Married Joan
had a great career playing fall-down clowns with names like Flossy Duff. Funny women were comedic geniuses like Carol Burnett, or Ruth Buzzi of
Laugh-In
, who made herself look pretty awful with her most inspired character, Gladys Ormphby, an ugly spinster whose hair was pulled into a bun secured by a hairnet knotted in the middle of her forehead. Not exactly what you’d call attractive. Joan, Carol, and Ruth took funny to the edge of a cliff and they weren’t afraid to fall off. That’s when I understood what Woody was talking about. It’s why Phyllis Diller worked into her nineties and Joan Rivers is still a force to be reckoned with. It’s why I love funny women. They make funny beautiful.

Speaking of fearless and original, what about Lady Gaga, who has worn outfits that look like a chicken nugget and a feather duster? Love that. And Rihanna, the black Madonna, who reinvents her style and image with every album. To me, the most beautiful women are independent women like Angelina Jolie, Anna Magnani, fierce and sassy Jennifer Lawrence, Georgia O’Keeffe alone in the desert, Laurie Simmons (Lena Dunham’s mother), Cindy Sherman
front and center in her photographs, Barbra Streisand with her untouched nose, strong Kathryn Bigelow, defiant Kate Moss, Grace Coddington and her orange hair, Louise Brooks and her black bob, Françoise Hardy, unstoppable Hillary Clinton, brilliant Tina Fey, fearless Joan Didion, and and and and … each found her place in the world. Each has her own style, her own voice, her own independence, her own stamp, her own method, her own wrong that she’s made right.

Just yesterday Dexter, my eighteen-year-old daughter, found a story online called “Top 10 Female Celebrities Who Are Ugly No Matter What Hollywood Says” by someone named Valdez_Addiction.

“Mom. Mom. Come over here.” I ran to the computer and there was a picture of Number One, Angelina Jolie, with this assessment: “She looks like Skeletor from He-Man. Sorry Brad, you could have done much better than this stick figure.” Valdez_Addiction slammed Number Four, Reese Witherspoon, with this: “What can I say about this genetic mistake that you can’t already see? Between that chin and that forehead that she finally realized she needed to cover, I’m still amazed she even has a career much less being voted beautiful by people magazine.” Dexter kept scrolling, and there was the fifth-ugliest female celebrity no matter what Hollywood says, Diane Keaton.

Old as dirt. Wow. I went to my bathroom and looked in the mirror. “Let it go, Diane. No wallowing in self-pity. You have a family. You have a brother and two sisters. You have a daughter and a son. You have work. You have friends. You can feel. You can think, up to a point. Your legs walk, your arms swing. You can see. Seeing is believing. Seeing is the gift that keeps giving. It’s much more engaging than being seen. That’s the bottom line, Diane.… Get over yourself. Listen to your friend Daniel Wolf’s advice—want what you have.”

Daniel’s not wrong, but he’s not entirely right. It isn’t quite that simple. I wish it were, but beauty is more complicated than that. Let’s get real: Does anyone know a woman over fifty who hasn’t taken a long hard look in the mirror and recited some version of this not so pretty monologue? “Diane, I’ve got some bad news. No matter what you do, no matter how much Restylane and Botox, no matter how many face-lifts and arm lifts and body lifts (good idea, why not get the whole package taken care of in one fell swoop and call it a day); no matter how many brow lifts, thigh lifts, breast lifts, breast reductions, breast augmentations, tummy tucks, nose jobs, eye jobs, cheek
implants, or chin implants; no matter how many chemical peels, laser skin resurfacings, spider vein treatments, permanent makeup applications (permanent sounds good), liposuctions, hair replacements, dermal filler polylactic acid treatments, dermal filler PMMA treatments, dermal filler polyalkylimide treatments (that’s a lot of dermals), calcium hydroxylapatite (whatever that is), etc., etc.… Are you listening? No matter what you do you will still be a sixty-seven-year-old woman on the downhill slide.”

So, what is beauty if it isn’t Angelina Jolie and Reese Witherspoon? Why do we try to pin it down by categorizing it as absolute? Why limit it at all? Why is classic beauty the gold standard? Why is
gold
the gold standard? And what is “classic”? What’s precious about precious stones? Why are diamonds a girl’s best friend? Don’t tell me what beauty is before I know it for myself.