Three days after my divorce was final, I decided to get back into the game. I’d been single long enough.
“Well, if you’re going to start dating again, you had better do something about the way you look,” complained my brother. He had a point. I looked old and tired. Well beyond my years. And, while I’ve always considered my body a temple, lately I allowed it to deteriorate to an urban housing tract; especially my face. I had to do something, and do it fast.
One of the most popular trends modern men are using to improve the way they look is men’s cosmetics. Like coloring their hair, men’s personal skin care products can help give them a competitive edge in the workplace and the dating scene. But, I had to admit the notion of lotion on my face made me a bit uncomfortable. Apparently, I’m not alone.
While more men are gradually experimenting with masculine skincare, 75% have yet to take the plunge. On the other hand, 54% approve of using skin care products like moisturizers. Twenty-four percent regularly have facials and 9% go as far as using foundation cosmetics.
Men’s skincare (which includes the gambit from moisturizers, lotions, powders, lip glosses, nail polishes, hair colors, gels, sprays, bath oils and assorted creams—anything short of prescription drugs and cosmetic surgery) is a $6 billon industry; $33 billion, world-wide.
There’s still the stigma to overcome before men become willing consumers of cosmetics, even though the only difference between men’s and women’s products are their intended purpose. Men tend to use skincare products to cover-up or correct imperfections. Women use them to beautify and enhance the way they look.
Women have always understood how cosmetics can dramatically change their appearance and the message they send to others; especially potential mates. When people were driven indoors from field work, they needed a way to mask the odors and filth that resulted from bathing just once a week. Instead or toiling in the great outdoors, men and women worked side by side inside contained offices—frequently with uncomfortable results. To mask foul smelling body odors, women began dousing themselves with liberal amounts of perfume, powders and sprays. Along the way, they discovered they could change their appearance according to their environment and desired outcome: mature and competent during the day, romantic and sexually available at night.
Anthropologists have discovered evidence that women and men used eyeliner and lip gloss more than 5000 years ago. Even King Tut refreshed his make-up a bit before exiling Moses into the desert in 1446 BC. He used ground ant eggs for eyeliner and applied pearlized fish scales to enhance the color of his lips.
Some went as far as lip-stretching, foot binding, tattooing, and head shaping to communicate to the world their elevated position and social status. Fortunately, options today are more palatable. All modern cosmetics and procedures must be approved by the Food and Drug Administration. But, with so many products, where does a budding narcissist begin?
As a young man, I never gave much thought about how I looked. Beyond getting some new weird haircut or sneaking away from the house with my shirt-tails hanging out, I felt people should learn to live with the cards they’re dealt. Concealers changed all that. What marijuana is to heroin, they turned out to be gateway cosmetics into my metrosexuality.
I decided to follow the majority of men buying men’s skincare products by shopping for mine online. The stigma of using anything remotely “girly” or akin to women’s make-up still prevents most of us from hanging out at cosmetic counters in Nordstrom’s.
Fortunately, I had a plethora of choices that promised to deliver their products in plain, brown paper—much like my brother’s Playboy subscription back in the 1960s. Many sites have online chat rooms staffed by licensed cosmeticians. So, that’s where I started.
I wanted to begin slowly, carefully avoiding feminine labels like lipstick and eyeliner. If my roommate happened to stumble across my products, I’d 
rather that he found manscara, guyliner or urban camouflage instead of Ballerina Beauty Balm, Radiance Wonder Glow or Miracle Mousse. I spent a nanosecond contemplating Botox, but nixed it immediately. The men I know who have used it looked more like The Riddler than someone who wanted to gently turn back the clock.
An article in Marie Claire (my bible) suggested that I begin with a light cleanser to remove excess oil, followed by a mild astringent and concealer under my eyes to counter the dark circles I typically have after all-night poker games. Gradually, my 10-minute morning routine went from a quick lark in the shower to over an hour, including a daily self-examination for new wrinkles, lines and pores.
Once I started getting compliments from the women at work, I was hooked. What else could I try? What steps could I take to transform my reptilian skin into the face of a Justin Bieber? I had only scratched the surface—literally.
The critical test came the night I hooked up with my first blind date. We agreed to meet at a trendy new Italian restaurant called Mal di Stomaco. They were known for their dark ambiance, so I thought it would be the perfect setting to try out some of my new fashion accessories.
I started with a light base of primer. I was familiar with primer from the weekends I spent toiling in an auto body shop while I worked my way through college. Much like Spackle, primer is designed to even out the surface of the skin, prolonging the life of your make-up. Er, I mean manouflage.
My cosmetician suggested that I add a light touch of bronzer to highlight my cheekbones and give my skin a shimmery look. Whatever that means. Next, I experimented with a little manscara, and guyliner with glittery flecks to enhance the size of my eyes. Nothing over the top. I finished with a liberal coating of setting spray to lock it all in place. I was ready for my big date.
The first thing Natalie said was, “Ewwww. Are you wearing make-up?” I was so humiliated, I turned beet-red and ran to the men’s room. Fortunately, she couldn’t tell how flustered I was because the primer hid my skin color from the rest of the world. By the time I returned, she’d left a note on the table: “I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is going to work out. I like my men more natural.” Exactly the kind of man I used to be before I was introduced to the world of cosmetics.
I went to bed that night in full make-up because I was too tired to remove it. That, and the fact that my cosmetician hadn’t shown me how to take it off. It was going to take a liberal acid wash and a few passes with a belt sander.
I have to confess I no longer wear urban camouflage. I ended up going back to my wife who told me she liked me exactly the way I was. I do, however, occasionally find myself surrendering to my new, old ways spending evenings exfoliating and luxuriating under Botinal Line Defense facials. I’ve even been known to touch up my eyebrows with a coloring pen, but that’s as far as it goes.
