It’s a difficult decision. More difficult than I can really hope to explain here, but one which seems to haunt me whenever I am out and about and, just by chance, happen to see a beautiful woman. Now, when you think about it, this seeing a beautiful woman is probably something which happens each and every day when I go out and, believe me, I tend to go out each and every day. Although, perhaps it really isn’t so much a decision, more a personal preference. The trouble is, I’m not sure what my personal preference is.
From the title to this post I think you may well be assuming that I am referring to hair color. Well, in a way you could be right, and that was indeed my intention when I first put fingers to keyboard. However, as I started looking through the photographs I’d picked out for this post, it became clear to me that there is far more involved than just hair color. Sure, it’s important: the hair must fit the fantasy as much as it must fit the person sporting it; there is nothing more off-putting than meeting up with a really beautiful woman in a hat or scarf and then, as she releases her hair, locks of heaven alone knows what fall out and ruin the whole spectacle.
No, it is far more than that. The whole person is important: the whole person must form a whole within itself which fits together; from character through to appearance. This, as I am sure you can well imagine, is something of a high demand.
We all have our thoughts about what a person should look like, many of us even have a specific hair color which we prefer – on our partner. It might be black, or blond, or brunette. It might also, sometimes you only find this out at the last moment, be dyed that color. What then? Does the whole still fit together because the hair isn’t its natural color, or could it be even better.
We all know that women have a personal ideal of themselves, and that ideal very rarely matches reality.
It goes, for me, a little bit further than that. The character is as much of importance as the hair color, as the clothing, as the features, as the body. Fine, these outward appearances are also important, for that first impression. I don’t doubt for a moment that everyone – who doesn’t lie to themselves – goes from that first impression, what they physically see, first and everything else is just a little bit of cream on the cake. Trouble is, the cream might be sour.
We see, every single day of our lives, people who we would consider beautiful. Not all of them match our ideal, for whatever reason, but we recognize the essence of beauty even in a fleeting glance. This essence is different for each and every person throughout the world. One person cannot truthfully say ‘this person is the most beautiful’ because their personal taste isn’t going to match that of the person sitting next to them, the one across the table, the person walking in the street.
I guess that’s why I find these ‘Miss’ competitions – regardless of what level they may be held at – to be such a farce. I’m not thinking cattle-market or anything like that, more factory products. What we get to see is a sort of mish-mash of a few peoples’ thoughts and desires. It is a thrown together nothing, in effect. The women – or men – do not necessarily fit in with our personal tastes but, since they are in a ‘Miss’ competition they must be beautiful.
Much the same with these supermodels who strut their stuff along the catwalk. I’ve nothing against it: they earn their money selling their looks just the same as a prostitute sells her body, a manager sells an image, a saleswoman sells an ideal. I’m not comparing one to the other either, so there’s no need for the Top Ten supermodels who undoubtedly read this Blog every single day to get their thongs in a tizzy and send me rude messages or Tweet their displeasure for all the world to see. It’s just that, well, I don’t find you beautiful at all.
Supermodels are a concoction of ideals put together by agents and marketing managers. I am neither, and probably never will be, I see things with my own eyes and not as a customer – or potential customer – through my eyes and pay packet. We consider them to be beautiful because we have been told that they are beautiful, and many men, I do not doubt, would rush to go out with one of them even if their normal date looks nothing like this ideal figure, this perfect woman.
It’s the same with skin color. I cannot believe that some people honestly prefer one skin color exclusively. This ‘Once you’ve had black you never go back’ thing is just a set of words, it has nothing to do with reality. The color of a person’s skin, the same as their hair color, their eyes, the shape of their nose, is all part and parcel. It all fits together into a complete woman (or man, for those who wish to read the other gender into my post, which is fine by me because it works in all directions).
It should make no difference what color skin a person has, as long as it is what fits in the whole. I do have something of a problem with colored and Asian women who dye their hair blond because, well, no, honestly. An Asian woman with light skin and a sort of cos-play blond wig, or pink, green, whatever, that’s fine, but dyed just seems to look tacky to me. And blond or ginger-red hair on a black woman?
But we all make our own choices, we all decide in which direction we wish to go, what we wish to look like, what we wish other people to see. Just a shame that what other people see is not necessarily what we see in the mirror!
I’m rambling. I know that I’m rambling. This was going to be a post about the hair color I prefer on women, until I realized what a ridiculous idea it is to even have a favorite. Fine, yes, we can have a favorite, but a hard and fast, a set-in-stone favorite, not for me.
I began this post really with just a single reference to hair color from the book L’lpotesi di Copenhagen. Sulle orme di MosÃƒÆ’Ã‚Â¨ by Oscar Caplan which I am reading at the moment. (An interesting side thought: I am reading it in German, the title Curia is far better to cope with. It was written in Italian. Oscar Caplan lives in France and England at the moment but has also worked or studied in Spain, New York, New Zealand and Switzerland. Hard to get more international than that, although when you add the countries he writes about in this book … and it is not yet available in English, although if an English-language publisher doesn’t bring it out soon there is no hope for the literary world!) One of the main characters is attracted to women with red hair and green eyes following an earlier, brief, affair. He looks for women with red hair and green eyes, even if the hair is dyed because, unless both are present, he can’t get an erection. At one point in the story he is even talking to a dark haired woman while imagining her to have red hair!
Now, I am not quite so bad as this character – especially since an erection is really not something I am likely to get, ever – but there are somethings which do arouse (in more ways than one) my interests.
I admit, I don’t have a personal preference when it comes to hair color. Or rather, to be a little bit more accurate, I do but it depends on far more than just the color: it can be governed by the overall look of a woman as much as her clothing, even by the weather, what I am feeling at that particular moment, whatever.
Wouldn’t life be simply too boring if we just stuck with one thing and didn’t look elsewhere? Don’t answer that; there are enough people out there who cannot see beyond their own noses, let alone over their own prejudices.
Love & Kisses, Viki.