She Painted Her Face

Cosmetics have been with us for a long time (the Bible tells us that the wicked Queen Jezebel "painted her face, and tied her hair"). The 19th-century poet Henry Austin Dobson, writing of "the ladies of St James's", who were "painted to the eyes", added that "Their white it stays for ever, Their red it never dies." So the idea of this kind of enhancement is familiar; what may be less well-known is the precise nature of some of the beauty products on record.

In 1754 the Connoisseur noted that, "At Paris the face of every lady you meet is besmeared with unguent, ceruss, and plaister." "Ceruss" was ceruse, a name (perhaps from the Greek word for "wax") for white lead (basic lead carbonate) used as a cosmetic. It was popular in the 17th and 18th centuries, and could clearly be deceptive; Macaulay wrote of Dr Johnson that "[his] eye-sight was too weak to distinguish ceruse from natural bloom." White lead might be used in conjunction with rouge (derived from the plant safflower); a character in Mrs Randolph's Wild Hyacinth (1875) recalled, "I recollect I had rubbed rouge on my cheeks and white stuff on my nose." Some cosmetics were more effective than others, however; a character in M. D. Landon's Eli Perkins (also 1875) observed ruefully, "There's no use of my trying to dress without rouge. I do wish they would learn how to put on pearl white [a white pigment containing bismuth] here--why, every wrinkle shows through."

Nearer our own time, cosmetics may be seen as having other associations. "Women have been trained to speak softly and carry lipstick. Those days are over," declared the redoubtable American politician Bella Abzug. And yet it seems likely that they will remain part of the world around us. As the businessman Charles Revson said, "In the factory we make cosmetics; in the store we sell hope."

Printer friendly version

Vanity, Vitality, and Virility: The science behind the products you love to buy by John Emsley