Ode by a Geriatric Urn

“Trusted facial filler.”

I look again at the ad. Yes, that’s the tagline, all right. The ad itself is for some stuff injected under the skin to shore it up. Without conscious volition, my face makes a face all by itself.  

“Trusted facial filler.”

The part of my brain that plays with language muses whether there is such a thing as “distrusted facial filler” or, even, “neither trusted nor distrusted facial filler.”

The part of my brain that works in marketing ponders whether it’s wise to even raise the issue of trust when trying to sell goop for subcutaneous injection.

The part of my brain that fusses about my appearance worries whether I myself need some trusted facial filler.

Day to day, the face in my mirror doesn’t change much, and a year-over-year comparison is beyond the capacity of my visual memory. But if I can’t quantify the change in me, exactly, neither can I miss the change in the ads, depending on the age group being targeted. In the never-ending pursuit of the beauty jackpot, the ante keeps going up.

In your 20s or 30s? Here’s some cream for those fine lines.

In your 40s or 50s? Here’s some serum to recover that youthful glow.

In your 60s or 70s? Here’s some injectable goop to fill out your sunken cheeks.

When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” – that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
                                                    – John Keats,Ode to a Grecian Urn

Well, John, maybe that’s all a Grecian urn thinks Man needs to know, and maybe that’s right.

But apparently Woman needs to know that “Beauty is youth, youth beauty,” along with the 1-800 number for the nearest purveyor of trusted facial filler.

 

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14 Comments

  1. Tom Watson

    Isabel
    On Friday night, I watched CBC’s Fifth Estate program regarding vitamin and herbal supplements. My take-away was that most of them are worth just about the same amount as that “trusted facial filler.” On the other hand, I wonder: If I put it on top of my pate would it appear that I have more hair than is actually there?

  2. Jim Taylor

    Your picture on the Senate campaign doesn’t look as if you need any filler, trusted or not. Umm… that comment could be misread, couldn’t it. So, sans flattery, you look good as you are.
    Jim T

    1. Isabel Gibson

      Jim – Thanks. I believe serenity lies in knowing that we all look good, just as we are. Not that I attain that state very often. Conditioning coupled with biology is a powerful force.

  3. I have always considered suspect a vision of truth or of beauty so strongly linked to a piece of ancient pottery no matter how charming its “leafy tale.” Keats “Geriatric” Urn well-deserves to be shelved with the trusted facial filler ad-person’s contribution to media prose.

    1. Isabel Gibson

      Laurna – Well, I admit that when I went looking for a link to the poem, I was dismayed to find the whole thing so, umm, tedious. This may be a lack in my education or a lack in my patience, but it did not recommend itself to me, for sure. Back on the shelf it goes. High up and well back, where the cats can’t knock it over.

  4. Mary Elford

    Isabel, I had 10 emails this morning. I missed this one the first time through, and I was sorry I didn’t see it in my inbox after reading the Senate nomination pieces. Then I saw Traditional Iconoclast! Fun Reading!
    Thank you for both blogs! Mary

  5. Somehow your Sunday filler (groan) landed in my spam. Glad I had a look over them before deletion. 😀 However, I have nothing of substance (groan) to add to your post except I never again want to look into an HD (stands for HiDeous) computer screen close-up view of my face, even by mistake (as it was). I shrank back as if I’d been bitten. Who WAS that?

    1. Isabel Gibson

      Barbara – How rude – the spam filter and the HD view! We none of us need to see ourselves up quite so close. I remember seeing a close-up shot of an older-than-I-remembered-her Chrissy Evert on TV, taken all unawares-like while she was watching Greg Norman (her sweetie) when he was in contention in a tournament (maybe a major) at an age past any age at which that would have been reasonable, and the then-new HD clarity showed all the little hairs on her face. “Yikes,” I thought, “little Chrissy Evert has hair on her face.” “Yikes,” I thought, “I bet she won’t be happy about this coverage.” And then I thought, “Yikes. If Chrissy Evert has hair on *her* face, every woman of a certain age does too.” And so we do. Stand well back from the mirror . . .

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