The Pursuit of Beauty

By Analise Bruno | Photography by Ria Huang | Design by Emma Hill

Most people tend to pay careful attention to how their body looks. We get permanent tattoos and piercings as decoration; we transform our bodies through exercise, alter ourselves with surgery, or paint our faces with cosmetics. For many people, there is no length too great or dangerous in order to achieve this vision of the “perfect self.”

There is something uniquely human about wanting to be liked and perceived as beautiful. It feels weird and often narcissistic, but the true roots originate from society’s standards of conventionality.

Indeed, to be conventional in any sense is a massive privilege. Society has been inherently built to suit people who follow the traditional norms of attractiveness, whether it be in the realm of face, body weight, hair, skin, or style. It’s no wonder there seems to be a collective struggle among people to achieve these expectations. After all, who wouldn’t exchange a little financial irresponsibility and pain for a lifetime of convenience?

As the growth of consumerism has reached an all-time high over the last decade, one thing is clear: the pursuit of beauty is no longer a trend, but rather a lifestyle.

You hear it denounced by a random plethora of studies that pop up on Google once a month: “Social Media Is Rotting Your Brain: Here’s How.”, “Is Social Media Bad for your Mental Health?”, “The Impact of Social Media on Teens.” Increasingly, we are warned about the long-term impacts that stem from this culture of influence, however, we can’t avoid the very in-your-face exposure that comes from apps that become practically integrated into everyone’s daily routine. Influencer culture has come to be defined by individuals who actively seek to leverage their social media followings through behaviors and viewpoints that encourage consumptionism on behalf of their primary audience. These people have built their credibility on expertise in a specific topic, such as makeup, skincare, clothes, or cosmetic surgery, among others.

I bet you know some of these people: Kylie Jenner, Charli D’Amelio, Ariana Grande, Addison Rae, James Charles, and practically every person bearing the coveted “Kardashian” last name. And, those are just some of the famous ones; uncounted are the millions of micro-influencers making their presence known across all different social media platforms. Every advertisement, sponsored post, or paid post you see while scrolling through your feed or before watching a YouTube video has likely disseminated from what has become a career of consumptionism.

It’s easy to fall down the rabbit holes of lies some of them weave — think about all the tops, makeup products, and accessories that you’ve shelled out a quick buck for because someone on the internet told you that you HAVE to have it?

“If you don’t have L’Oreal’s Telescopic Mascara, then what are you doing?”, “If you want clear skin, you must try the new Tarte face mask.”, “If you want good style, you have to shop at Skims.”

It feels like the list of pushy ads and sponsorships is never-ending. While some may ask, “why even care?” the solution is more complex than to just scroll past and ignore the commercial. Sure, it’s the integrity of the influencer that’s on the line when they choose to promote a product that may be misleading, but behind them stands an even larger corporation that is doing every ounce of research possible to follow the trends they are certain people will buy into. In essence, the pursuit of beauty is literally killing us — whether that be from excess consumerism depleting Earth’s supply of natural resources, or exposure to harmful chemicals.

A not-so-fun fact from a National Institute of Health study confirms that women who straighten their hair or use relaxers regularly are at a largely increased risk of developing uterine cancer. Another study from the University of Colorado found that exposure to the toxins emitted from acrylics and other nail polishes exposes workers and even regular customers to dangerous levels of volatile organic compounds that can lead to respiratory diseases and, in some cases, cancer. Another eye-opening perspective comes from the novelty “Not So Pretty” Netflix docuseries, where a woman named Corrin Ortillo shares how she developed mesothelioma from makeup containing asbestos. The point? Don’t follow every new beauty fad you see on social media; these brands’ spokespersons are rarely knowledgeable about the real side effects of their products.

In the world of fashion, influencing can have just as great a consequence. Think long and hard about all the micro trends that have disappeared as fast as they arrived, and prompted a new pattern of spending in their midst. Through each revival, we seem to curtail our own aesthetic and sense of style in favor of one that is deemed to be more popular. It is estimated that 11.3 trillion tons worth of textiles end up in U.S. landfills every year, and, given that 60% of all clothing contains microplastics, we are only contributing to the long, slippery slope that is climate change.

Think about every top, brand of jeans, shoes, or bag that you purchased because you saw someone else wearing it or noticed it was trending. Now consider how much you actually used the item, if at all. Of the already wasted textiles, 92 million tons of it is sourced from unworn, unused, or returned clothing. Even if you left that dress or pair of jeans to collect dust in the back of your closet, chances are the store you purchased it from has quadrupled the amount sitting in theirs that will inevitably end up in a landfill.

There is such a narrow definition of beauty that permeates society that people are willing to spend any dime or endure any discomfort to achieve it. While in recent years we have inched away from having one specific archetype of the stand-alone picture of all that is the perfect human being, as a collective we are still predominantly drawn to those whose features are embedded in those same values.

So, how do we, in practice, resolve the crisis created by the desire to be conventional? How do we tackle monumental issues with self esteem and once and for all prove to people that their value is not ascertained by how many goods and products they have? Perhaps in the same way we have given rise to the “influencer,” there is space for a deinfluencing culture.

No, I don’t mean that to “de-influence” yourself, that you should turn to another subtly sponsored video featuring some person telling you what not to purchase but what to buy in its place — there are loads of videos similar pervading the TikTok algorithm, and to be frank, there’s no difference between them and the influencers they’re criticizing.

It sounds cliche, but we really do have to go down the route of self-acceptance to achieve this kind of success. Avoiding these kinds of ads will be virtually impossible, and while I can stress that you do your research before purchasing, the reality is that the joy that results from indulging is far too satisfying. So really, what is there to do?

For as much as I love shopping, the one thing that has made me reconsider pressing that “confirm order” button or impulsively checking out at Sephora has been this one sentiment: “Admire someone else’s beauty without questioning your own.”

There is always going to be this desire to buy more makeup, lose more weight, or change your appearance in an effort to resemble someone you adore. However, that’s a very one-sided way of thinking about things. It’s hard to conceptualize on paper, but if you truly learn to love yourself more, you’ll be able to find greater comfort in things other than new products and clothes.

At some point, we all have to learn that what makes a person isn’t their makeup or their outfits — that is merely what defines their “shell.” Humans have so much more depth. While I’m not saying that buying these items makes you shallow - by all means, treat yourself to what makes you happy - I want you to remember that some of the products you see being pushed in your face on Instagram or Tiktok are part of a larger business. Yes, maybe that mascara will make your eyelashes look longer, or maybe it won’t: that’s not what’s really important. It’s sad to say, but as long as the company is making a profit, little to nothing else matters — so it only makes sense for them to use enticing words, dramatic acting from paid partners, and celebrity endorsements to catch your eye.

It may seem like this endless crusade for beauty we are all on is the issue, but I would argue that it’s perfectly natural. Despite how society may misinterpret the need to feel beautiful as being high maintenance, there is nothing wrong with wanting to feel beautiful. The primary issue lies with the constant and unavoidable insinuation that material items are our one “fast-pass” ticket to both looking and feeling better.

In this struggle to accept the person we see staring back at us in the mirror, we have to realize that beauty is subjective. No matter how much we buy, spend, and manipulate ourselves to fit into society’s box of what is conventional, there is no guarantee we will be up to everyone’s standards. To consider the fact that we can’t please everyone is scary, especially with something as malleable as our looks, but at the same time, it is liberating. There is something inherently freeing about knowing that there is no one way to be “beautiful”; it is this exact idea that keeps us all motivated in the pursuit of beauty. We are continually reshaping and changing to become the best versions of ourselves overall, not just the prettiest we can be.

The way we allow consumerism to affect us collectively depends on how satisfied we are with the person hiding behind all the masks of our clothes, cosmetics, and filters. Beauty is a concept that will always have the intrinsic capacity to both terrify and empower us — but as an exterior depiction of value, it does not have the means to ever define us.