Camera doesn’t lie

Of late, I have had to apply for a new passport. This in itself is not a chore, particularly – well, it is a bit – but the real issue is having that photo taken, once every decade.

It’s hardly surprising that Anna Wintour has celebrated fashion photographer Mario Testino take her passport shots. Who doesn’t dread the cold truth of the 10-year passport photograph cycle and the flashbulb reality that you have aged somewhat?

For this application, I had my photo taken three times. First I went to the pharmacist and was handed four pictures of horror.

“I think they’re lovely,” said the lady.

I looked at them again. If this was “lovely” then we had a bigger problem than I thought.

It was a mugshot, exacerbated by an unforgiving flash and a photographer shorter than I am, taking the picture up my nose.

Yes, I guess it looked a bit like me, Nostrils Ridyard, but could we try it again, please?

The issue, it seems, is our perception of ourselves.

We all think we’re better-looking than we are, which is worrying for those of us not best pleased with our looks to start with.

In research, people were shown three almost identical photos of themselves, one flatteringly retouched, one uglified, and one the actuality, and asked to choose the real one. Everybody thought reality was the retouched photo.

Clearly I did, too, for next I tried a machine, which spat out four more crime-scene shots. Then I fixed my make-up and went back to the pharmacist, determined to prove I wasn’t really hideous.

This time she stood on a box so we were level, before the drill was repeated: don’t smile, look straight at the camera, push your hair behind your ears so The Man can see all of your moon-face, keep your expression neutral …

And still my hope was proved vain, in every sense.

So what price vanity? Well, I paid three times and, surprise, I used the first “lovely” photos.

Now, finally, the passport is done, and to my amazement I look like a middle-aged woman posing unhappily for yet another unflattering passport photograph.

But, worst of all, I have to look at that photo for the next 10 years, hating it, but knowing that in a decade there’ll be another photo, and that one will show a bleak new truth, and suddenly this one will look like a fresh-faced cover-girl.