The Ridicule of Appearances

Appearances are so deceiving. I know that's a grossly obvious statement (I do have the dubious talent of observing the blatant), but I've been pondering that notion for several reasons.

Thanks to the hilarious Michael K of DListed, I came across a photo retouching company called iWANEX, and if you visit their site, click on "portfolio," and run your cursor over each celebrity's picture, you'll see the wonders of Photoshop in all of its glorious, glaring clarity. I entertained myself mindlessly for about 20 minutes yesterday doing just that and decided that if I ever purchase another fashion magazine, I'm sending myself to Promises for Idiot Rehab. Or hiring a permanent team of retouchers and lighting techs to follow me every second of every day. Since my legal fees are approaching the cost of a Bentley (ok, I might be exaggerating just a tad) and I can't afford rehab or a make-me-hot team, I think I'll wear a string of garlic and a Fiddy-Cent sized cross around my neck to ward off the temptation at the checkout stand.

In any case, iWANEX's site also recalled something that I learned in Greece, and that is the extent to which appearance can so often be wrong, both for me and about me. I wasn't acquainted with too many of the people who attended the party prior to the trip, but I was aware that they were, for the most part, members of the Fabulous Crowd. What I mean by that is that many are in the fashion and design business, so I was expecting some supercilious attitudes that my shoes were from two seasons ago and that my attire was from (*gasp*) three seasons ago. Instead, what I found was a fascinating mix of people who were, indeed the Beautiful People, but who were also intelligent, intuitive, genuine, and after some ice-breaking, had much more going on below the surface than the pretty façade.

Take Alexis, for example. She's quite famous in her own right, having traveled the circuits of the most fabulous designers on the planet for a high-profile job. Alexis looks the part: her clothing is impeccable, hair is flawless, and accessories green-with-envy-worthy. You might think that she would refuse to engage with anyone less fabulous than she, but rather, she's a down-to-earth entrepreneur who upped and moved from one of the fashion capitals of the world and is forging out on her own, unaided. She surprised me with her perspicuity as well, being someone forthright with her depth of personal matters apart than just details of her new venture.

Aside from my own misjudgment, I was also misread in a way that made me laugh until I cried. These are some of the questions I had to answer early in my trip until people actually got to know me:

"Yes, I know I have a stripper name, but no, I've never been an exotic dancer and yes, this is my birth name."

"No, I have never been a porn star." (I'm pretty sure this one was based on the name as well, since my assets aren't quite what's required for such a task.)

"No, I am not a sex therapist."

"A sex surrogate?! Uh, no."

The genesis of these rumors remains a mystery to me, but they amused me nonetheless and were proof positive that anyone can misjudge upon first making another's acquaintance.

Then there was a couple in Greece, Scarlet and Guido, who just opened a restaurant in my city. I met Scarlet quite some time ago, but only had the opportunity to really get to know her on our trip. She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in person and you might expect her to be shallow, simply based upon her looks. However, once you sit down with her and really talk to her, you realize that she's talented and beautiful on the inside as well. The restaurant that she and her husband just opened hosted the party for Designer on Friday night, and the walls were fully decorated with her artwork. She had told me of some of her work in Greece, but I never anticipated the beautiful torture she expressed in every piece. I think I bugged the crap out of her, making her take an hour to tell me about each piece and her exact process in creating them, but they were such striking paintings that I couldn't hear enough about them.

What's more, I had my court date for my pedestrian run-in the day after I returned from Greece. The case was dismissed (thank God!!!) and Officer Lentil and I ended up having an hour-long conversation in the courthouse hallway afterwards. Initially he exclaimed, "Hey, Almost, I had another pedestrian run-over the other day and I thought of you!" But subsequently, we spoke about other matters that didn't make me feel like the city's moniker for Morons Who Run Over Joggers. I pegged him for being a kind and very funny man, but I also misjudged him, thinking that a man in blue probably spends his free time watching the idiot box or hanging out at a bar and I could not have been more wrong. (This is not a discriminatory statement, by the way, it's just that I know cops see too much horror on their jobs and need to decompress somehow.) Officer Lentil spends his free time finding relics from churches that are being torn down in our city and dedicating months to restoring them to the gleaming beauty they once boasted. He scours antique shops and flea markets to find that one piece that speaks to him and asks him for help to return it to its original elegance. And he went to a very prestigious art school. I'm ashamed to say that I never would have guessed, but it was quite a pleasant surprise.

And perhaps this is just me, but even after knowing someone intimately for a substantial period of time, the well-practiced appearance can still mask the gruesome reality. I've already told just a few of the stories of how Ex snowed me in certain ways (forgery, Levitra, and Granny Porn, anyone?), but I secreted away things of my own. In that sense, both Ex and I had our own permanent staff of retouchers and lighting techs who glossed over the flaws and created a poreless quality to the marriage, at least to the outside world. Not always, but appearances can deceive to the point of ridiculing what you thought was your own accurate judgment, even after years.

And to answer the other question I first faced in Greece? No, I'm not a dominatrix, either, although I hear they make a very good living.