Day 12 - Serious Face

Ok, so now that my intervention is finally complete and I have journalised my thoughts and feelings throughout the process, it's time to get serious for a bit. Having done some personal research on body image, if I critically analyze my thought progression from before to after the intervention, a few interesting points become apparent.

Initially, my instinctive analysis on this was that I am simply a product of my own vanity and narcissism. However, on the topic of psychology and objectified body consciousness, Cash & Pruzinsky (2004, p.57) state:

       "Watching one's appearance is presumably associated with self-love and individual achievement for women. However, research shows that when people pay attention to how others perceive them, they try to meet relevant standards, feel bad if standards are not met, and are susceptible to influence by others. Thus body surveillance is about control, not self-love."


Even though the passage was based around feminist theory, I found a certain level of truth to their argument. Introspection has enlightened me to my own desire for control. Meticulous attention to my dress i.e. adherence to social standards of aesthetic beauty (fashion) serves as a direct means to controlling how I am perceived within that same society. Food for thought, at the very least.

Bibliography

Cash, T. F., Pruzinsky, T. 2004. Body Image: A Handbook of Theory, Research, and Clinical Practice. New York: Guilford Press.

Tom Ford, Keira Knightley and Scarlett Johansson Vanity Fair Cover. 2009. [online image] Available from: http://www.beyondhollywood.com/gallery/stills2/scarlett-johansson-keira-knightley-nude-vanity-fair-cover-big.htm [Accessed March 25 2011].

Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Jason Segel, Paul Rudd Vanity Fair Cover Spoof. 2009. [online image] Available from: http://justjared.buzznet.com/photo-gallery/1769211/seth-rogen-paul-rudd-vanity-fair-02/ [Accessed March 25 2011].

The Aftermath

Aaaaand we're back to the drawing board! Or. In this case.... back to the dressing table. 

The Hair

The Earbling

The Dress

Aaaaaaand The Watch... haha

Day 10 - "Why Are You Dressed Like That?"

Last day today. I feel weird. Similar to the feeling I get the last day of fasting before Eid every year. Kinda like... even though you're happy that things are finally going back to normal, you're overwhelmed by an unexpected wave of melancholy at the prospect of losing the little bit of solace and humility that has surprisingly inhabited you over the duration of your "intervention." 


Even though I feel most like myself when I express who I am through the intricate art form of dress, I look at the process with a wider gaze now. This fucking qurta is comfortable, man. And when I wear it, I feel less vain. With no vanity, with no pressure to impress or get double takes as I walk through the corridors of my daily routine... I feel at ease. Calm. Almost... more like myself. Isn't that weird? I guess if physical expressions of self through dress are my yin, then this valuable lesson is most definitely my yang:


"We can dress the body for a lifetime, but our souls are naked for eternity."


I just made that up. Plans to copyright are pending. 
Anyway, two interesting developments today. 


INTERESTING DEVELOPMENT 1


I walk upstairs for breakfast this morning in full autopilot mode. Halfway through breakfast my dad says in a groggy voice, "Why are you dressed like that?"
I hadn't even realised that I got dressed already. I explained the assignment to him and that was that. To think just just a few days ago I was smuggling myself out of my house as if it was Alcatraz. 


INTERESTING DEVELOPMENT 2


Remember when I said nobody would ever see my embarrassing, curly hair?


.......

Shut up.

Day 9 - Clever Vega Bastards

So it’s the second last day today… and you know what? I think I’m starting to get used to this old qurta. There’s no morning stress deciding which combination of garments would get me more attention. No trifling with which pair of shoes to wear based on expected time out v.s. fashion/comfortability. No pressure to impress when I weigh my appearance against others. No grueling accessory removal procedure at the end of the day. No shiny watch today. And you know what? Under this this thick, black beany lays a bedhead of curly hair that no one will ever see lol. I did, however, GHD the 3cm tail that peeps out the back… ~cough~ Shut up.

I gotta admit… never in a million years did I imagine I’d be this comfortable at this stage of this assignment. It’s pleasantly surprising, and at the same time I feel a little bit silly about myself for all my unnecessary insecurities over the years. I still love dressing up. I love the thrill of being extravagant to express yourself in an era when finding an original, unique identity seems nothing more than a generic attempt to fit in. I think maybe now I just understand why I am the way I am a bit better. Clever Vega bastards.

Day 8 - BuRrRp

As much as I’d like to write something truly spectacular today, I’ve been home alone all day cleaning and eating. In my underwear. 

Day 7 - I Dress Therefore I Am?

Whoops! I was so rushed yesterday that I forgot to tell you how my plan went! Ahem…

So I rock up at Ali G’s looking like a rockstar and the aunty behind the counter immediately glances at my earrings, then doesn’t make any eye contact with me for the remaining duration of our transaction. Weird. So I go home, change and go back. Her confused expression when she saw me looked like a cross between “WTF” and “I think your twin brother was just here.” This time, however… she was looking at me. Smiling, even. I found this really interesting. Our appearances seem to be a very direct expression of our beliefs, our personalities and what we stand for. I dress, therefore I am? She immediately identified my attire as congruent to her own and accepted me the second time around. Does this then mean that our choice in dress is a statement of the kind of people we invite into our space on a more personal level, as well as a request to be invited in by people of the same creed?

The Waterfront, I found, was a lot less enlightening. The cultural demographic made either of my two appearances equally acceptable. To think, that embarrassing slip in the men’s room was all for nothing. Bleh…

Day 6 - Oh, the Irony!

Day off due to not wanting to embarrass my little brother in front of his peers at their pre-matric ball party. It’s funny… here I am, slap bang in the middle of an anti-vanity intervention, dressing my brother in the most elaborate embellishments so that he looks like the epitome of contemporary aesthetic perfection for one of his most memorable rights of passage in his 17 years of existence. The irony is amusing, to say the least. Gotta go. The limos are here. Hummers! Immmmpresssiiiiiive….

Day 5 - The Idea

I stay in Walmer Estate, which has a pretty orthodox, Muslim community. The shop up the road from me, Ali G’s Videos (I kid you not) is owned by the orthodoxest of the orthodoxes. The old lady who sits behind the counter in her ever-present scarf shall be my first victim. Here’s my plan. I will dress in full Riezness (hair, clothes, accessories, the works), walk into the store, analyze her expression, then go home immediately, don my intervention suit and go back to the shop to see her reaction. Then I’m going to repeat the process at the Waterfront. I’ll take my clothes with, change in the men’s room and observe how people respond to me in each context.

I’m going home now then to the Waterfront later today for some last minute shopping for my little brother’s matric ball tomorrow, so my itinerary’s sorted! Gotta run! Shit wait… I’m in flip-flops. Gotta umm… jog!

Day 4 - The Watch

This watch is bugging me. The sleeves of my qurta are long and nobody but me sees it… but I know it’s there. And even though I’ve convinced myself that the reason I’m wearing it is to tell the time, deep down I think I know the real reason. It’s the same reason I do my hair every day. Yes, I still do it. Don’t you judge me.

I’m fighting the process. Resisting the intervention. Desperately clinging to little secrets that make me feel like I’m not selling myself out. Nobody will fucking see my hair. I know this. My watch is more a piece of jewellery representing my dire desire for flash than a functional means to measure time. I know this. Yet here I sit in class, cleverly concealing it from plain sight as if this somehow made my project authentic. Who am I kidding, really?

Anyway I’m having trouble analyzing people’s reactions towards me in my new, anti-Riez persona. That’s purely because I haven’t been seeing many people, to be honest. I wake up early, hide from my family as I get dressed (are you still judging me??), rush off to campus (which we’ve established as an inconclusive context), have class until late afternoon then go home and get undressed before anyone sees me. I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry. I intend to show them. Promise.

I have an idea to investigate the above problem, however. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow! Watch..... this space.

Day 3 - Two Things

I realized something today. Well… two things, actually.

Thing Number 1

I’ve been GHD’ing my hair every day since the intervention started, even though I wear a beanie every day.

Thing Number 2

I’m still wearing the watch. Doesn’t feel right. Dunno why.

Now I know for a full fact that the only reason I still feel the need to do my hair is purely because of morbid, obstinate loyalty to my normal, pre-intervention dressing ritual. “Why the hell am I still doing this?” I asked myself. And almost before the question echoed off the walls inside my head I had already shot back at myself with a very interesting answer. “I am scared that if, for any reason, my beanie should come off my head, people will see my curly hair and I will be embarrassed.” I’ve actually programmed myself to believe that the natural texture of my hair is somehow inadequate and inconsistent with my desired body image. Hmmm… 

Day 2 - Secret Dressing

It’s ridiculous how chilled yesterday was. Here I was, expecting my amazing metamorphosis to somehow cause the world to part! Surprise, surprise…

It didn’t.

I suppose the context of my environment wasn’t very conducive to planetary transformation, to be honest. I rocked up to school, hopped off my Vuka and made my way through the crowd of students gathered outside the campus steps. It was the first day of the intervention for everyone, so people were expecting to see the madness that unfolded. They all sat there chuckling at one another’s appearances. Not really the best scenario for information gathering.

Anyway, today I got dressed in secret. Nobody saw me yesterday but everyone was congregated upstairs for breakfast this morning. I dunno, man. I don’t want them to see me like this for some reason. I don’t know why. Is it because I’m embarrassed? Am I too proud to see the smug look on my dad’s face as he sees me, perceiving me to finally be caving to his ideals? Suddenly the uncomfortability of this intervention is very tangible.

Day 1 - The Fraud

Even though I prepared myself mentally for this "dressing-down" business last night... I, in my half awake/half asleep stupor went about my normal, autopilot Monday morning ritual: Yawn while I get out of bed with my eyes closed; rub my eyes all the way to the shoilet (my toilet is also a shower); pee; bump into furniture like a drunk man as I make my way to the kitchen upstairs; breakfast consisting of corn flakes and strong, black coffee; back downstairs to shower (in the shoilet, of course); out the shower, engage rigorous towel-drying procedure; roll-on; underwear; body lotion; GHD my hair while in my underwear; full body deodorant; get dressed in an inexplicably meticulous order: left sock, right sock, t-shirt, jeans, belt, boots, earrings, watch on right wrist, leather strap on left wrist, black beaded rosary around neck, silver pendant bathchain around my neck, Vega access card around my neck; perfume; grab Vuka keys, helmet and schoolbag; head for the door...

Crap!

The intervention starts today. Rewind at lightning speed and don my fez and all black qurta suit. A qurta is a long salaah top. Salaah is the prayer of Muslims. As I'm walking out, I pass a mirror and realise the back of my mohawk is still visible from under the fez and... I still had my accessories on. I paused for a moment to ponder this...

This process is already embedded in me. My hair has always been my biggest source of vanity. These accessories I embellish my body with on a daily basis make me feel comfortable and attractive. If someone were to see me dressed this way walking in the streets, they'd immediately notice my fashionable hairstyle underneath this holy facade and know I was a fraud. Here I stand, supposedly humbled in appearance, in front of one of a hundred mirrors I'd normally check myself in everyday, and what am I doing? Checking to see if I look okay. I feel like an idiot. I take my fez and accessories off and cover my hair in a plain, black beanie. I keep my watch on. I mean, I'll need to know what the time is, right?

As I hop onto my Vuka, my salaah pants hooks on the key on the side and rips at the crotch. Greeeeeaaat. Talk about a bad omen. This is gonna be one interesting day.

Salaam Alaikum!

Haha...

And welcome to my first entry. The purpose of this blog is simple. I intend to document the 10-day Creative Development body intervention I have been assigned for my first project as a second year Multimedia Design student at Vega The Brand Communications School. The documentation of this intervention forms my Critical Studies segment of the joint project.

Our module of study is named "The Body (un)comfortable" and revolves around our own human bodies, how we observe and perceive it as well as how others observe and perceive us. The aim of this particular project is to firstly unpack our own body image, locate our comfort zone, physically remove ourselves from it by means of a 10-day body intervention and then critically analyze our findings. In a nutshell, get uncomfortable with your body and document it all.

First off, allow me to tell you the characteristics of myself that I chose to exploit for the purpose of this project. I am a 26-year-old man who comes from a traditional, Muslim, Cape Malay home in Cape Town. My family is fairly religious and I, myself, am the complete opposite. I find that religion separates more than it integrates people. I'm extremely spiritual, though. I believe in a supreme force at work beyond our comprehension and I live my life according to my beliefs. This, however, is not congruent to the teachings of my religion. So I am seen as somewhat of a rebel in my family. I especially tend to rock the religious boat with my rebellious attire and radical hairstyles. I mohawk, I accessorize, I fashionize. That is how I have always been.

THE INTERVENTION

The choice of intervention was pretty simple once I evaluated this particular facet of my persona. So for the next 10 days I am going to acquiesce. I am going to embrace and embody my polar opposite body image. I will become what they want and make myself supremely uncomfortable in the process. I will mow my hawk, unfashionize and I will dress down into traditional Muslim garb. Accessories denied.