It’s hard to believe that a Christina Aguilera song could actually have substance.
After standing in line outside Couvrette Studio on Gladstone Avenue for three hours, waiting another hour inside and then parading around in my underwear, competing against more than 200 other Ottawa women, I began to question one of Aguilera’s lyrics: am I really “beautiful no matter what they say?”
All of the women were there for the same reason — to audition for Dove’s open casting call for the Canadian version of their “real beauty” commercial.
The soap company’s casting call in the Ottawa Citizen asked for “real women” aged 20-50 plus, with no on-camera experience, and who were not professional models. They were looking for “real beauty.”
But how is beauty defined in 2005?
When you type “beauty” into a search engine, the first hits will be links to websites that sell cosmetic products from make-up to soap. Subscribers to People magazine sit on the edge of their seats in the spring for the ‘50 most beautiful people’ edition to see which celebrities the magazine says are the most beautiful.
Beauty is something we want to attain and see in other people, but don’t seem to see in ourselves, or else why would we need to buy cosmetic products and look at others to create its definition?
None of us truly knows what beauty is. We buy into what the companies tell us is beautiful.
On Dove’s website, they say “for too long, beauty has been defined by narrow, unattainable stereotypes,” stereotypes to which companies like Dove have contributed.
The next line of their campaign slogan is “beauty comes in many shapes, sizes and ages.”And underneath this statement, Dove states that ‘professional models’ aren’t allowed to compete in the campaign.
Are they not considered to be ‘real women’ or ‘real beauty’ because it is their job to look good?
Let’s face it; none of us in that lineup were professional models. However, none of us can say we are ‘real beauty’ either. I was guilty of blow drying my hair, wearing make-up, sucking in my stomach and wearing the best push-up bra I could find that morning — all in the name of attaining ‘real beauty.’
If I truly believed I am beautiful, why did I feel compelled to stand in a four-hour lineup, and hope that no one could see through my underwear, just to have someone confirm that “I am beautiful, in every single way?”
Dove’s campaign for ‘real beauty’ is a waste of time, as it is a quest for something that does not exist in 2005. ‘Real beauty’ is a fabricated term created to get more bang for the corporate buck.
The question becomes not how do we define beauty, but does beauty even exist, and if so, when is it considered real?
Perhaps beauty isn’t in the eye of the beholder anymore, but is in the hands of the ‘ad holder’ — everyday women who define beauty in the types and quantities of purchases they make.
And Dove, a company that shares the same consumer product company (Unilever) with Slim-fast, wants you to buy theirs.
Hopefully they won’t want to wash my mouth out with soap for saying so.