March 19, 2010

Pretty Price Check: Jessica Simpson Special Edition (03.19.10)

The Pretty Price Check: Your Friday roundup of how much we paid for beauty this week.

Jessica Simpson's The Price of Beauty logo photo

Okay, not to sound like a martyr, but I think we can all agree: I’m already doing a lot for this whole “investigate the price we pay for pretty” quest. But forget no Klean Kanteens. Forget gaining ten pounds and constantly running short on sleep. That was nothing. That was cake.

So let me tell you about the biggest sacrifice I’ve made for this project thus far: Sitting through all twenty minutes of VH1’s season premiere of Jessica Simpson’s The Price of Beauty.

I mean. Give me ten arbitrary power-trip rules to follow and another ten pounds of Dunkin Donuts weight any day of the week. Because this show is one hot mess.

Okay, so the premise sounded promising: Jessica wants to understand the true meaning of beauty and is traveling to far-off lands to understand what beauty means in places where her golden extensions and five-inch heels are not the bar by which all is measured. Nevertheless, the opening credits circle around blonde, gorgeous Jessica wearing all white before morphing into elaborately costumed women of color.

Oy.

Then we tag along with Jess and best friends CaCee and Kevin as they explore Beauty in Thailand. Read: Thai massage and awkward jokes about happy endings, meditating with a Buddhist monk until Jessica gets the giggles, and eating street market vendor bugs, which makes them puke, just like the obnoxious American girls on spring break that I’m sure most Thai folks presume them to be.

VH1 raises the dramatic tension when Jessica meets a Thai singer who has become horribly disfigured using skin lightening creams. “All around America, we just want to be tanner, but here they actually lighten their skin,” says Jessica in wonder. Except: That happens in America too, Jess. Um, a lot.

And the episode culminates in a trip to see the women of the Karen-Padaung Hill Tribe, who elongate their necks by constantly wearing stacks of brass rings from the age of six on, distorting the growth of their collar bones and vertebrae. Jessica and friends watch a six-year-old have her first brass ring put on and talk about how beautiful it is for them to witness this special tradition. “She’s such a brave little soldier!” Jessica coos. No mention is made of the fact that the United Nations called for a tourist boycott in 2008 amid allegations that the Karen, who are Burmese refugees, were actually being kept in human zoos — fake villages set up so tourists would pay to gawk at the women in their brass rings — and weren’t permitted to leave the country.

That’s pretty much where she lost me. I want to agree with James Poniewozik over on Time’s Tuned In blog, who concludes, “it’s not Frontline, but it’s a refreshing change from VH1’s dating shows.” But after our whole COVERGIRL debacle this week, I am just kind of over examples of media claiming to offer a thoughtful exploration of beauty and really just trying to sell me a celebrity shoe line — and feeling less and less inclined to cut them the “at least they’re trying to be more open-minded” slack.

Still, if you’ve been looking to spend 20 minutes that you’ll never get back because you’ve otherwise used your time just so wisely this week — by all means, go catch the whole episode here.

March 19, 2010

Beauty Schooled on Crazy Sexy Life!


Screen grab photo of Beauty Schooled on Crazy Sexy Life

Don’t fret, it IS Friday — and so the Pretty Price Check (and a special edition, mind you, so get excited) is coming up a little later on today.

But first, I just wanted to say a quick hello and welcome to new readers coming on over from Crazy Sexy Life, where I am guest blogging today. Hello! Welcome! And here are a couple of tips for navigating Beauty Schooled:

  • Check out About to get the back story on what the heck I’m doing here.
  • Go to In Class to catch up on all the Beauty U adventures thus far.
  • Click Glossed Over for my take on beauty in the media, For Extra Credit for musings on beauty issues making news, and Happenings for beauty stuff that is, well, happening. Or just go click around in the Category Cloud to your right — lots more good stuff in there.
  • Go over to the right where it says subscribe to add me to your RSS feed or subscribe via email. (I never do anything with your emails, promise — we’re 100% spam free around here.)
  • Follow me (@beauty_schooled) on Twitter.

Hooray! Now we need never be apart. And to my current readers: Do go explore the wonder that is Crazy Sexy Life. They have a star-studded blog posse and all sorts of awesomeness going on.

Oh and once more for the cheap seats in the back:  my guest post is over here. Thanks to Kris, Corinne and the whole CSL team for letting me visit!

March 18, 2010

Join Beauty Schooled for the next Feminist Carnival: Beauty Edition! [Deadline March 29]

Carnival Action Photo by Shannon Taylor (catching up again)

I’m so excited to announce that Beauty Schooled will be hosting Feminist Carnival No. 16: Beauty Edition on Wednesday, March 31.

As you might recall, I participated in Feminist Carnival No. 11 over at Gender Across Borders back in January. It was so much fun that I decided to get in on the hosting action myself. In case you’re new to the whole concept: A blog carnival is kind of like a link roundup on steroids. It’s a chance to feature some of the best (and often otherwise undiscovered) feminist thinking and writing going on right now in the blogosphere, all in one place. (And then we all link, Twitter, and comment like crazy so chaos and merriment ensues! Sequined masks and fried dough consumption optional.)

The theme of this carnival will be — wait for it! — Beauty.

Twist, I know. But I’m leaving that deliberately vague so y’all can just run wild. Beauty products? Beauty standards? Body image? Skinny supermodels? Beauty in art, films, music? Being beautiful on your wedding day? Being beautiful on any old regular day? Barbie? (Can we ever say enough about Barbie?) Beauty advertising? Standing up for beauty? Sitting down for beauty? Whatever your feminist take is on any of the above (or beauty-anything else that I didn’t think of yet!) I’d love to read about it.

The only criteria: Your post must run on your blog between now and March 31 (Carnival Day!) and you must get your submission in by March 29 (so I have time to pick entries and put the whole thing together). One post per blogger, though if your blog has multiple authors, everyone can submit something.

Read more about the Feminist Carnival here and then go submit your post here.*

(And quick, go tell all your feminist blogging friends to do the same!)

*If that form gives you guff, just email your submission to me directly on beautyschooledproject [at] gmail [dot] com.

PS. I’m using the term “feminist” super broadly here, so don’t get hung up. If you believe in equal rights for people regardless of gender, hooray, you’re a feminist! And if your post about beauty reflects that, then hooray, you should submit it!

[Photo by Shannon Taylor via Flickr.]

March 17, 2010

[Glossed Over] COVERGIRL says beauty is the victim.

Oh dear. Where to even begin with COVERGIRL’s Stand Up For Beauty Campaign?

Cover Girl Stand Up For Beauty Declaration Cloud Photo

The gist, as you’re probably catching from their “Declaration Cloud,” above, is that beauty has been getting a bad rap, kind of like that cheerleader that everyone says slept with the whole swim team, when really, it was just like, two or three guys, tops. Drew Barrymore and a whole bunch of celebrities and beauty bloggers are on board, “defending beauty’s honor” and claiming lip gloss’s ability to put a smile on your face as an inalienable feminist right. And COVERGIRL is even planning to give $50,000 to whichever Beauty Defender made the best video of why she stands up for beauty.

I guess I’m getting stuck on random segues like “and what’s so authentic about under-eye circles anyway!” (Umm… they are part of my face?). And also the fact that the campaign’s home page invites me to sign the COVERGIRL Beauty Declaration and get COVERGIRL makeup shade matches for my current department store brands at the same time. So when “we declare that starting now — beauty is for all,” what we really mean is “anyone can buy COVERGIRL products — even fat chicks, honest!”

So, can you rock that? Or am I being a curmudgeon when I should be giving them points (maybe half a point?) for trying?

March 16, 2010

Salty goodness.

Photo of woman with salt scrub.

Tonight I perform my first salt scrub. In case you’ve never had a salt scrub, here’s what it involves: Your client takes off all her (or his) clothes and maybe puts on a disposable thong, then lies down under a bath towel. You mix salt from the Dead Sea (or at least, um, salt — I can’t promise ours really came from the Dead Sea, which I hear is running out of all its good stuff anyway) with some oil, then slather it all over your client’s naked limbs, discretely inching aside the towel as you go, and then covering her back up when you’re done. If you do it right, she’s going to feel relaxed, pampered, exfoliated and moisturized.

I immediately take a liking to the salt scrub because, as beauty products go, this one is pretty clean. No laundry list of unpronounceable chemicals with unknown health risks; just salt and apricot oil. You could use olive oil and make this right in your own kitchen. (I can’t guarantee that every salt scrub you see will be this simple and preservative free, and it should also be noted that there’s quite a bit of debate over the potential health effects of various essential oils, but at Beauty U, at least, we keep this one simple.) I think it also helps that this treatment is less about perfecting or fixing you than a lot of what we do here. Sure, we’re getting off the dead skin so you feel soft and smooth, but that’s all, folks. We’re not making you skinnier or changing the shape of your eyebrows or using this as an opportunity to sell you wrinkle cream or tell you how clogged your pores are.

So I get to work on Miss Susannah, our newest Beauty U. instructor. I’ll admit, “a little weird” doesn’t begin to describe rubbing your hands along the inner thighs of a person you’ve just met. I mean, unless you’re a doctor, there’s really only one other situation where that’s going to happen. I notice that when Miss Stacy demonstrates this step for me, she keeps her gaze firmly averted, off into the middle distance. And although we start at the ankle and work up, when you reach the mid-thigh, you switch and move down from the hip towards the knee. “This way they don’t feel nervous about where your hand might go,” Miss Stacy explains.

I do feel nervous at first, but oddly, working on someone’s arms, legs, back and stomach (Miss Susannah declines to have her breasts included) is in some ways less intimate than working on her face. I guess just like I found facials to feel less invasive than applying makeup because of the steam and closed eyes, working on someone’s body distances you even further from them as a person, and they can become just a collection of surfaces you need to cover.

But before I can get depressed about how objectifying that sounds, I notice something else: Everyone looks fantastic getting a salt scrub. In the two spa beds next to Miss Susannah, there are two other Beauty U students receiving body treatments, everyone covered by matching white bath towels. It reminds me of that are-they-high special issue of Love Magazine that was supposed to celebrate the “diversity” of eight naked super models in the same pose. Only in this case, we have actual diversity: Brooke is a size 2 19-year-old. Tammy is a size 16 40-something. Miss Susannah falls somewhere in the middle. And everyone looks a little bit vulnerable and far from perfect under their towels. But also, kind of beautiful.

I haven’t performed a body treatment on a paying client yet, so I’ll have to keep thinking about how money changing hands would change things. But at this basic, non-transactional level, there’s something very caring about giving someone a salt scrub. She may worry her arms are flabby or her midsection could be more toned, but your touch conveys acceptance. So instead of everyone in the room thinking “Oh my God, she’s naked!” it’s more like we’re thinking, “Okay, she’s naked. And she looks freaking great.”

[Photo by deborah jaffe via Flickr.]

March 15, 2010

Trade schools scam students and taxpayers like you.

Manhattan Trade School for Girls Photo

In case you missed it, the New York Timesfront page story yesterday was all about how for-profit trade schools are raking in beaucoup bucks in tuition right now, taking advantage of desperate-for-work students and federal financial aid programs alike:

But the profits have come at substantial taxpayer expense while often delivering dubious benefits to students, according to academics and advocates for greater oversight of financial aid. Critics say many schools exaggerate the value of their degree programs, selling young people on dreams of middle-class wages while setting them up for default on untenable debts, low-wage work and a struggle to avoid poverty. And the schools are harvesting growing federal student aid dollars, including Pell grants awarded to low-income students.

The article focuses mainly on schools that want to train you for food service, auto mechanics, health care, computers and electronics, probably because tuition for those kinds of programs can run you upwards of $30-40K, while beauty school is more in the neighborhood of $5-$15K. (Beauty U costs $8500 – $12,000, plus a slew of little extras like aprons, black clothes, products, and “advanced training” classes that are constantly being advertised at $95-$150 a pop.)

But I think we can all agree that even $8-12K is debt you don’t want to be carrying around when your expected income after graduation is $18-32K per year — if you can get a job at all. (Estimates vary widely, but I use the Bureau of Labor Statistics’ data, which ballparks salon workers’ before tax salaries at $8-15 per hour, including tips.) A lot of my Beauty U classmates are worrying about the debt they’re racking up and whether it’s going to be worth it. “I’m at the point where I can’t believe I got a loan for this,” says Meg after Miss Lisa’s water bottle rant. “It doesn’t feel like they’re preparing us for anything.”

Of course, the for-profit trade school industry argues that it’s providing an indispensable service, helping the working poor realize their middle-class dreams and creating opportunities for professional growth for “career changers” or other recession casualties. When I interviewed at Beauty State, the owner talked a blue streak about how this would be a better investment than my fancy bachelor’s degree from a private university. And Mr G, the owner of Beauty U, loves to paint word pictures about our anticipated success. You know, while mismanaging his teaching staff and failing to stock the supply closet.

And here’s another trick that the NYT story forgot to mention: Extra hour charges. Since most of these programs require you to complete X number of hours in order to sit for the state board exam (I’m working my way through 600), trade schools assign you a graduation date when you enroll. On paper, this makes sense. You want to get through your 600 hours as quickly as possible, so having August 16, 2010 marked on your calendar gives you a reason to get up every morning. But then comes the catch. If you don’t finish all your hours by that set date, the school gets to charge you by the hour to finish them up afterwards. Which means if you miss a couple of nights (to move house, take care of a sick kid, cope with a death in the family, whatever), you have to make the time up as quickly as possible to avoid getting charged later.

Is anyone surprised to hear that Beauty U has extremely strict rules about when you’re allowed to make up those hours? Or that their “make-up hours” fall exclusively during weekday business hours, which makes it nearly impossible for night students (who are attending school at night precisely so they can go to paying jobs during the day) to ever catch up? We’re stuck choosing between losing income now by missing work, or paying Beauty U later.

But I am encouraged to hear that Obama administration is taking notice of this scam system. From yesterday’s article:

Concerned about aggressive marketing practices, the Obama administration is toughening rules that restrict institutions that receive federal student aid from paying their admissions recruiters on the basis of enrollment numbers.

The administration is also tightening regulations to ensure that vocational schools that receive aid dollars prepare students for “gainful employment.” Under a proposal being floated by the Department of Education, programs would be barred from loading students with more debt than justified by the likely salaries of the jobs they would pursue.

Yes. More of that, please.

[Photo of the Manhattan Trade School for Girls, which offered year-long training programs for women headed into the garment industry circa 1890-1930. Because this is not a new problem.]

March 12, 2010

Pretty Price Check (03.12.10)

The Pretty Price Check: Your Friday roundup of how much we paid for beauty last week.

Wal-Mart prices black Barbie less than white Barbie photo

  • $3: Wal-Mart’s sale price on black Barbies, versus the $5.93 they charge for white Barbies. (Of course, both are a damn sight cheaper than the $74.98 Mad Men Barbies we talked about earlier this week). Wow, someone was asleep at the wheel on that one. (Great analysis over on Sociological Images.)
  • $500: How much some New Jersey women paid for black market butt injections — that turned out to contain mostly bathroom caulk. Figure does not include subsequent hospital bills. Please folks. If you’re going to inject stuff in your butt, spring for a board-certified plastic surgeon. This one is just too depressing on just too many levels. (Meanwhile BellaSugar notes that cosmetic surgery business was down by a whopping 2 percent last year. Assume black market procedures don’t factor in to that count.)
  • $13,000: What you’ll spend on cosmetics over the course of your lifetime, according to a new poll by UK retail chain Superdrug. (Via BellaSugar where the commenters are trying to do their own tallies… with some pretty interesting results.)

[Photo via Sociological Images]

March 11, 2010

[Tip Jar] Client #3 likes me; she really likes me.

Photo of a ten dollar bill

I’ve decided to start a new blog category called “Tip Jar,” where we’ll track how much I make in tips working on clients at Beauty U. And because tips make up such a huge portion of the average salon worker’s income and because they are so entirely subjective and at the whim of the client, we’ll also spend some time exploring what went into each tip — or lack of tip, if/when that happens.

First, let’s get caught up to speed:

Client #1 = $5 on a $25 European Facial.

Client #2 = $5 on a $22 Hand & Foot Paraffin Dip. I actually performed this the same night that Miss Susan came in to tell us that the junior students aren’t allowed to work on real clients anymore. Samantha was waiting on a friend getting her hair styled by one of the cosmetology seniors and decided to pop into the spa for a little pampering in the meantime. The senior girls were already booked solid, so Miss Stacy drafted Meg and I to handle her. (Meg gave her a facial after I paraffined her up.) Oh irony.

So now, Client #3. Yes, the irony continues — despite the “crackdown,” us junior students have been called on to do services almost every night this week. Tonight it happens as I’m doing some last-minute cramming for our big Milady’s Chapter 4 anatomy test; Margo arrives with her friend Denise for a 7 PM facial. Denise has an appointment; Margo does not. But Beauty U has a “walk-ins welcome” policy, so the Powers That Be decide my test-taking can wait.

I like Margo right away because she compliments my shoes as we walk over from reception, which opens up a nice bit of girl bonding over spring flats. She’s a little chattier than Jody, though once we get going with the steam and massage, she drifts off to dreamland while I work. Which, I realize, I really don’t mind now. At first it felt strange to be responsible for someone else’s relaxation while you feel anything but relaxed yourself. But now that I’m getting into a better groove with my facials, I’ve started to enjoy the quiet rhythm of the thing. It creates a space for me to tune out my surroundings and think my own thoughts, just as the client is doing.

Maybe that sounds bad. There’s surely a school of thought that says I should be slavishly devoted to my client at all times, thinking about her every pore. But in this case, at least, it pays off. Margo slips me $10 as I walk her out — a 50 percent tip on her $20 facial! — and tells me that she feels “invigorated and relaxed at the same time.” And she books two more facials before she leaves.

I’m feeling so confident that I take a swing at upselling, telling Margo and Denise that they might consider trying a more expensive facial next time that everyone swears up down and sideways offers tremendous anti-aging benefits.

It’s a little awkward, because they’re chatting about where to go for dinner, and I have to sort of interject with a “I just wanted to mention, before you go…” And I wonder if they’re both thinking “Okay, here comes the sales pitch…” Which makes me feel bad. Margo and I have been bonding over shoes! Now I’m about to tell her to spend more than twice as much the next time she comes to Beauty U.

But we have to get a teacher to sign off on a form saying we tried to upsell something after every single client, so I persevere — and when I say “anti-aging,” they both perk right up.

“How much is that one?” Margo asks.

“Well, it’s $55 here,” I say. “Which is a lot more than the standard European, but I promise, once you get it, you won’t want to go back. The results are amazing. Also that’s still way cheaper than what you’d pay at a regular spa.”

I mean, I pretty much hate myself now.

“Okay, we’ll think about it!” says Denise. “Anti-aging. That’s just what we need!”

I can’t make myself push any harder. It’s just creepy. So I tell them to have a great night and head back to the classroom. There’s no time left for a break — it’s already almost 9 PM, and I have an hour-long anatomy test to take, plus laundry to finish and a facial station to clean.

But I’ve also got ten bucks in my apron pocket. So there’s that.

Current Tip Total: $20

[iPhone photo by me. Careful folding up on the Hamilton by Margo. By the way, all three of these tips came folded the exact same way; what is it about tipping that makes us want to make our money as little as possible?]

March 10, 2010

Mad Men & Barbie: A marketing love story.

Mad Men Barbie photo

Consider today’s post a public service announcement for women’s studies majors everywhere: I have your senior thesis topic!

Today’s New York Times is reporting that Mattel will be releasing a set of collector’s edition (read: $74.98 a pop) Mad Men Barbie Dolls this summer.

Mattel is all about the brand synergy: The first Barbie came out in March 1959; the first episode of Mad Men was set in March 1960. But let’s talk about the brand irony: Betty Draper, the beautiful-yet-dead-inside Stepford wife as a Barbie doll? Well, yes, I think we knew that. So is literally marketing her as a Barbie doll a way of acknowledging Mattel’s 51 years of sexism? Or will it just encourage little girls (who are probably not DVR-ing the show and parsing its every nuance) to think they have to look just like January Jones to land a hottie like Jon Hamm?

Also, is it just me, or did they shave down the curves on Barbie Joan? Um, kind of a lot?

Mad Men Joan Holloway Photo

Ugh. Type, women’s studies majors, type as fast as you possibly can!

[Barbie photos via the New York Times; Joan Holloway photo cropped from Jewelry Gal Blog.]

March 9, 2010

Miss Jenny Quits Part 2: The Crackdown Begins.

Photo of Grease, "Beauty School Dropout" on Broadway

With Miss Jenny gone, the remaining teachers decide that its time for us to hear about everything we’ve been doing wrong under her tutelage.

“Laundry needs to be put away in the closet, ladies,” Miss Lisa says, gesturing to a pile of four neatly folded bath towels behind the waxing station. The senior students grab from there when they need to make the facial beds on the fly between clients. “It can’t just be left out in stacks all over the spa.”

Later, Miss Stacy snags the red metal Klean Kanteen off my desk in the classroom. “You guys, I don’t want to see this kind of thing anymore,” she says. “Enough with the juice and the coffee and the tea. You are only allowed to drink water in here and it should be in a real water bottle.”

“But mine is water,” I say. “There’s only a little bit of vodka in there, honest.”

Everyone laughs, even the teachers. But still: “I’ll let you have your Klean Kanteen,” Miss Linda says. “But if Miss Susan sees it, she’s going to take it away.”

Miss Susan is the night school director. To quote another teacher (who shall remain nameless), she’s about 26 years old and still lives at home with her mother. But she doesn’t mess around about school rules. Half an hour later, she summons us all into the classroom. Stephanie is in the middle of giving me a paraffin dip, but Miss Susan needs to talk to us right now, so I pad over in my bare feet, dripping apricot oil, and stand on a towel.

It turns out the issue is us junior students working on clients before we’ve graduated to senior student status. “This has never been allowed to happen before in the history of Beauty U,” Miss Susan says somberly. “It can never happen again and it will never happen again now that I’m aware that it has been happening at all.”

The logic being that if we’re busy working on real clients, we’ll miss what Beauty U calls “theory instruction,” aka reading Milady’s. Which is all well and good, except that we’ve only ever worked on clients when the spa overbooks and a teacher tells us too. In fact, Meg misses half of the lecture because she’s finishing up a facial that Miss Stacy assigned to her earlier that evening. But no more! We all match Miss Susan nod for serious nod.

And finally, as we’re pulling on coats at five minutes to ten: “I don’t want to see coats draped over chairs in the classroom either,” says Miss Lisa. “You should fold them up and put them in your bags. And really, you shouldn’t even have your bags in here. You should put them in the lockers in the hall.”

“If Mr. G sees your bags in the classroom, he’ll grab them all up and take them away,” adds Miss Stacy.

Now lest this all sound like I’m whining: I get that most workplaces and schools have rules on what you can wear and where you can eat. And that they’re often necessary to maintain a professional and hygienic atmosphere. And the business about mastering the curriculum before we’re let loose on real clients makes sense too.

But there’s a lot of talk around beauty schools these days about how the industry has become so much more “professionalized” in recent years. Which means, beauty school is no longer just a place for the Rizzo and Frenchie types who failed typing in high school. We’re supposed to be here to build a career, to go on to work on rock stars and make six figure salaries, if you believe Mr. G.

So I guess I’m just a little stuck on the disconnect between that notion and the reality where it’s okay to confiscate water bottles and pocketbooks from tuition-paying, soon-to-be-professional adults.

[Photo: "Beauty School Drop-Out" on Broadway, via BroadwayWorld. I know, I can't believe it took me this long to make that reference either.]