Sorry, I can’t find any joy in letting myself go
‘Inever thought I’d be living in hoodies and letting my greys grow out,’’ an older friend of mine sighed wistfully down the phone a few days ago, ‘‘but it’s been really nice to let things go a bit with everything else that’s going on right now.’’
I’ve always envied this friend. She’s in her late 40s, has pasta in jewel-coloured glass jars, provocative artwork in her stylishly clashing living room, knows how to make a kaftan look glamorous and has the kind of succulently stocked bookshelf you could gorge yourself on for at least three years. In short she’s always been the model of the glamorous, smart, successful woman I want to be one day.
So if there was anyone who was going to embrace ‘‘JOLO’’ during coronavirus, I wouldn’t have banked on it being her. She introduced me to orange lipstick for God’s sake; she’s not exactly what I’d call a pioneer of practicality and comfort.
But JOLO is the coronavirus-era lifestyle mantra that stands for the Joy Of Letting Go. (Yes, the G is silent, so you can rap along to Drake’s YOLO with it.) And it’s popping up in households around the country right now.
JOLO espouses that it’s time to let go of all of the often excessive beauty and grooming rituals that we, especially the female ‘‘we’’, spend so much time and effort in non-lockdown life enacting. It’s OK to spend all day in your track pants, beams JOLO, it’s OK not to shave, wax, pluck, powder, paint, brush or groom at all. It’s OK to grow out your greys, let your talons curl and stop exercising. It’s lockdown, #JOLO!
On some levels, JOLO is right. I’ve been running around putting out Covid-related fires all week, which has resulted in my look being largely described as ‘‘scruffy purple Teletubbie athleisure’’. (Why have I only ever bought lilac activewear?)
And the JOLO logic that it’s OK not to always look #lit during a pandemic, as you’ve got far bigger stuff to deal with, is very soothing. But it’s still not a lifestyle mantra I’m going to be embracing full time.
For a start, I’ve never exactly been a fan of middle-class puritanism when it comes to aesthetics. And there’s a faint whiff of it behind JOLO.
It’s one thing to reassure women you don’t always need to be camera-ready. But the ethos of JOLO often tips into telling women it’s healthier and better to scrub away these socially enforced layers of our personality and expose our inner, rather crusty, selves.
Personally, I find that’s got far too many echoes of the argument common among well-bred types who believe it’s shallow to care too much about your appearance. Like those women who always sniff about boob jobs, as though it’s somehow a serious moral failing to give in to societal beauty norms. Ignoring that there are many empowering, rebellious and just plain fun reasons for doing so.
But the bigger problem is that, whenever I do scrape moments of calm, all I want to do is shave, moisturise and put on jeans so tight they make my thighs feel like the innards of an uncooked sausage.
It gives me a sense of control. Normal life may have evaporated, I may be watching my bestlaid plans dissolve like candy floss in the rain, but I can still control my Medusa-like nose hair! It’s satisfying to shave away one tiny irritant in lieu of any of the scarier ones.
I’m probably also just envious of the people who like themselves enough to be able to let go. I’ve always seen many of the beauty rituals as a way of managing my self-loathing. I’ve definitely absorbed harmful social narratives that I have to be thin, pretty and glamorous in order to be a successful woman. (In the same way guys are increasingly told they have to be super-ripped to be ‘‘real’’ men.)
But the problem is that I’ve absorbed them now, and I can’t seem to erase them, so I may as well try to work with them, right? Is it a sexist construct that women have to be hairless? Absolutely. Do I feel disgusted with myself if I don’t shave? Totally.
What’s the solution to this? Shaving, accepting that I hold flawed standards for myself, and then moving on. I’d love to be able to look at an untamed version of myself in the mirror and not flinch, but I’m not that evolved yet.
Ultimately, it’s OK if you want to run around in activewear, but it’s also OK if you need to wear a full face of makeup and a ball gown. We just need to do whatever helps us feel normal right now.
Whenever I do scrape moments of calm, all I want to do is shave, moisturise and put on jeans so tight they make my thighs feel like the innards of an uncooked sausage.