Hillary laid bare
What her make-up free face is telling the world
Putting on a good face is something Hillary Clinton is used to. Throughout her gruelling campaign for the presidency, every pantsuit, haircut and slick of lip balm seemed to be a calculated move in letting the world know that here was a professional woman in control. A woman in touch with her feminine side. A woman who knew what she was doing.
So, it was quite a shock to see Hillary make her first appearance since conceding to Donald Trump.
On Wednesday night at an event in aid of the Children’s Defence Fund, in Washington, Hillary appeared anything but power-groomed. Something had clearly shifted. The hair was flat, she wore scant make-up, her eye-bags were defiantly on show, her skin a little sallow. She admitted: “There have been a few times this past week when all I wanted to do is just curl up with a good book or our dogs and never leave the house again.”
In short, she looked perhaps a little more like she really felt inside. She has lost the war – so why bother with the paint any more?
That women in the public eye are judged ferociously on their turnout is a depressing truth; the politicians’ polish being an indicator of their suitability, their conviction, their dedication to the gig. It says: if I can be bothered to get up two hours earlier than a man to have my hair and makeup done perfectly, then surely I can handle government. The chronicles of Clinton’s appearance – from scrunchie ties, $600 Bergdorf Goodman blowdries and her power bob – are something she herself has taken on and, to an extent, embraced.
She played the game. On the campaign trail, her stylist packed two hairdryers in case one broke, and she consistently used her clothing to make subtle sartorial points. In launching her presidential gig she posted a picture on Instagram of her red, white and blue trouser suits with the caption “Tough choices” – accepting the oppressive level of scrutiny that she knew existed for her.
When asked, in a Facebook Q&A session, how she manages the “hair and make-up tax” expected of women, she replied, “It’s a daily challenge. I do the best I can – and as you may have noticed, some days are better than others.” She highlighted the glass
ceiling that she hasn’t quite smashed with her white trouser suit – an official colour of the suffrage movement. Similarly, in the face of defeat, for her concession speech she chose to wear purple – to send signals of nobility, humility and, again, suffrage. And yet, a week on, the Hillary we see before us couldn’t be more different, nor the message that she is conveying.
While her speech was a rallying call to her supporters not to lose hope but rather to “believe in our country, fight for our values and never, ever give up”, her appearance seemed to suggest something else entirely. What the world saw was the tired face of a 69year-old woman. It is a serious face. It shows its weaknesses, and its losses. Hillary’s guard has come down and her humanity is revealed.
By dropping her polish, she seems to be telling us that after losing the election she has woken up in her own American nightmare, one with serious repercussions for her country and career. This hasn’t been easy for her, and now it is as though she wants the world to know: it won’t be easy for anyone else either. In these turbulent times, is she perhaps saying that there are more important things than putting on a brave face? For Hillary that’s the brutal truth – although the uber-groomed women who now surround Donald Trump may disagree.