“Presently the door swung back and both leaves were opened, whereupon he looked to see who had opened it, and behold, it was a lady of tall figure, some five feet high, a model of beauty and loveliness, brilliance and symmetry and perfect grace,” runs an extract from The Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad, which appears in the Arabian Nights. “Her forehead was flower-white, her cheeks like the anemone ruddy-bright. Her eyes were those of the wild heifer or the gazelle, with eyebrows like the crescent moon which ends Sha’aban and begins Ramazan. Her mouth was the ring of Solomon, her lips coral-red, and her teeth like a line of strung pearls or of camomile petals. Her throat recalled the antelope’s, and her breasts, like two pomegranates of even size, stood at bay as it were.”
I’ll no doubt be accused of rampant Orientalism, but the above description, as romanticised and idealised as it may be, is deeply rooted in the essence of true beauty. In the natural, the serene and the effortless. In tight curls, in blemishes, in a face as full and radiant as the moon. In graceful resistance. In the Palestinian keffiyeh. “There is nothing more rare, nor
more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection,” Steve Maraboli once said.
Now consider this. Back in 2007, a Dove study conducted among 3,300 girls and women aged 15 to 64 in 10 countries, including Saudi Arabia, found that 37 per cent of Arab girls between the ages of 15-17 would consider cosmetic surgery in the near future. It’s an old study, but still telling in its relevance. It also found that 63 per cent of Arab women were “threatened to feel attractive amidst the beauty ideals portrayed in the media, fashion catwalks and entertainment industries”.
Interestingly, it was also stated that 46 per cent of young Arab girls wished they would see more girls and women in the media that looked like them. It’s a sentiment that is echoed by Leo Burnett Beirut’s May Chaker: “I am yet to find a Lebanese show that depicts a character I can relate to, or one that resembles me in any way. A common notion in our region is that if you are beautiful, have an attractive body, big lips and a perfect nose, you should be an actress. Because apparently, that’s what people want to look at, and that’s what they aspire to be.”
In a world of botox, false eyelashes, false breasts, false hair and make-up better suited to a drag queen, it is imperative that the advertising industry embraces natural beauty. It must revel in the authentic, not in the grotesque. Otherwise, for those of us who care, the essence of Arab beauty will be irreparably distorted.