Polly Vernon has her say
I DID NOT see the Face Mask Wars coming. Brexit and Remain, sure! Territorial disputes, Twitter’s ideology feuds, Blur v Oasis, Tottenham v Arsenal, yup, yup, yup, yup! I mean, I never subscribe. I think this sort of thing silly at best, deadly at worse, uniformly frustrating… But I can see how each triggers primal urges about protecting our tribe against perceived aggression from other tribes, and in doing so, creates assorted crises of identity, because: if someone believes as passionately in their tribe, as we do, in ours, then what?
The idea people could be torn asunder according to whether they wear a slither of fabric across their mouths and nostrils, though? Nope. Sorry. No. I do not understand how anyone extrapolates that into a bigger row about Who We Even Are Anymore. Yet: America has. Right-wing libertarians denounce face masks as a civil infringement akin to gun control, or Communism. Leftie liberals embrace them as emblems of compassion, wear them for selfies and shame those who do not. Because – please forgive the cliché, which is too apposite for comfort RN – when America sneezes, Europe catches a cold: on Saturday, I saw signs London was getting in on this act, in the form of a man holding a placard that read: ‘MASKS ARE MUZZLES’.
‘Only if you’re going to bite someone,’ my friend remarked, not-very-sotto-voce. ‘WHAT DID YOU SAY?’ demanded an adjacent protester, whose sign read: ‘CORONAVIRUS IS A LIE’.
‘It’s not though, is it?’ said my mate. I hurried him away lest socially undistanced fisticuffs ensue.
Me? I’m into face masks! Not because I style myself a morally superior liberal whose capacity to do right by humanity is unbound. I mean, I definitely do see face masks as, like, the least we can do, deffo no biggie compared with total lockdown or re-spiralling death rates… But more importantly, they are chic. Half accessory, half make-up; glamorous when done well – the sunglasses of the chin, if you will. I am now in possession of what amounts to a complete wardrobe of facemasks. I have masks of a colour chosen to make my eyes appear greener, than ever they did before! Masks patterned to clash deliciously with the fabric on a favourite top. Subdued masks, which I wear with my most dramatic earrings, so as not to overwhelm. My Studio 54 disco mask, studded with Swarvoski crystals. (No. Really.)
All my masks are of that cut that emphasises cheekbones (pointing up across the nose bridge, sweeping down beneath the eye socket, tapered along the jaw – @atelierspatz is a fine example). All my masks get handwashed – and ironed! – with a delicate devotion I usually reserve for very best frocks. I have yet to find a single look not improved by one. So guyz, if you’re not doing it for corona: do it for fashion!
(NB I am also embracing face mask wearing as an opportunity to reinvigorate the practice of winking at strangers, who can no longer tell if you’re smiling at them or not.)