Vanity Analysis: Jeanne Dielman
Products for the working woman
I distinctly remember the first magazine column that I looked forward to reading. Nylon’s Private Icon, specifically in the years between 2006 - 2011. The aughts were the golden era of this magazine, as it reflected the colors, graphic design and document the fashion and music style that was once simply referred to as “hipster” and has been rebranded (by people who weren’t alive or sentient to appreciate the obscure melodies of Bat for Lashes and Klaxons) as “indie sleaze.” Everything appeared a little haphazard, but worked. An eclectic mix of 1950’s and 60’s silhouettes were introduced to 80’s colors, spandex and deeply side parted hair. Fashion and beauty were visually grating, for the most part.
A reprieve from the time capsule cocktails of outfits being styled and captured via flash street photography was the focus of Private Icon. In each issue, a single character from a film had beauty products ascribed to them. The unseens elements of the character that are left for the audience to imagine were now sensorial if you were to go to a shop to try them for yourself. This was major to me as I always had a predilection for cosmetics and fragrance. I never express just how into beauty products I am in this letter. When I was younger, my mom would teasingly call me a “product tester” because I devoured fashion magazines more than candy and needed to try the latest mascara or MAC product to understand what the writer was describing. I wanted to know if I could detect the tiny grains of glitter in a lip gloss or see how much a cleaner could “erase” my blackheads. To this day I allot extra time in Sephora when I’m running errands to spray fragrances, smear foundation on the back of my hand, and swipe swatches of blush in rows along my forearm because I find the way that these products can alter our sense of self through eliving aliments and enhancing features utterly fascinating. They’re personal. They’re helpful and damaging at times. But thinking about products in relation to cinema was inventive to my young, consumerist addled eyes.
This style of visual analysis was formative to me, so I am trying my hand at reading a film or character through what I imagine makes up their beauty routine in my film reviews. I hope you enjoy!
Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, dir. Chantal Akerman, 1975
I’ve had this film on my “to watch” list for a few years now, but there was no way that my attention span could withstand watching this over 3 and a half hour magnum opus from the queen of durational cinema, Chantal Akerman. Lucky for me, I had time to hunker down at Metrograph a few Saturdays ago for a screening. Starring Delphine Seyrig as Jeanne, we watch as she goes to the market, makes dinner for her son visiting from school, and ventures to the bedroom for meetings with men who leave after an unknowable amount of time over the course of three days. She is a widow with a defined schedule. We see the pattern of her life unfold slowly, carefully, until there is a subtle shift in her mood that creates a domino effect of disturbances. A metaphorical string is tugged and her life unravels, yet she maintains her calm regardless of the circumstances. I did not anticipate to be as attentive as I was to watching someone perform such mundane tasks, but her movements were hypnotically soothing.
L'Oréal Paris Elnett Satin Hairspray
I spied with my little eye a can of this iconic gold can sitting on Ms. Deilman’s vanity and let me say, this film is the perfect advertisement for it. Each strand of her hair stays in place throughout the three days we see her go about life, although, after a meeting with a client it is slightly rough and tumbled, but not awfully. This spray has been used for decades by hairstylists for their A list clients to hold hair in place while leaving a stainy sheen. Launched in 1960, it was marketed as the first brushable hairspray to allow for more flexibility and while sculpting a style.
Chanel Rouge Allure Velvet in Rouge Feu
Chanel cosmetics packaging is unmistakable. One compliment that I can give this brand and as I sit and think about it, is their cohesive packaging from their shopping bags to their cosmetic cases. Few brands have this strong of an identity because many switch up their style too often to become recognizable beyond their clientele (which I think makes it harder to be seen as aspirational if the greater public can’t recognize you, Hermès cosmetics are not sheathed in their signature orange, would you recognize any of these products as theirs if they caught the corner of your eye? Beautiful packaging nonetheless.) I wondered what shade of Chanel lippie she reached for and my guess is this one. It’s an unfussy shade of red that you can dab on your lips to control the amount of pigment. She is a woman with a full day and simply wants to brighten her face with a soft pop of color. Lipstick is her luxury.
Let us take a moment to appreciate her beautiful bathroom, perfect color palette. We see our utilitarian protagonist lather up without ruining their hair (another great sell on coping a can of Elnett), scrubbing the day away huddled near the bathtub’s faucet. This scene made me wonder about the average construction of Belgian bathrooms in the 1970’s because a shower head is nowhere to be seen, very curious to know how common this was and how it influenced bathing culture and products, if at all. Anyways, the description of this soap reads: “The oil's soothing and hydrating properties combined with the protein-rich power of fresh eggwhites and the readily absorbed soybean extract, lecithin, will help you maintain a clear, glowing complexion every day.” And her skin is glowing while she precisely peels potatoes, finds the right formula to make a cup of coffee, and not watch a baby that a friend drops off at her home.
Jeanne is a uniform dresser, but I know she invests in objects she uses daily. The volume of her hair is envy inducing, which I would expect a $95 hairbrush to do.