Portrait Of A Beauty 2008 [extra: Quality]

Look closely at the frame. The hair is not "lived-in" or "beachy." It is shellacked, straightened to a liquid sheen, or else teased into a voluminous, aerosolized crest. The makeup is maximalist, not minimal. A smoky eye, sharp as a shard of obsidian, is paired with a lip so nude it has been erased into an idea of itself—the infamous "concealer lip," a trend that said: my mouth is for pouting, not for speaking. The eyebrows are not bold, brushed-up statements. They are thin, arched, surprised—plucked into submission by the steady hand of a tweezer.

This beauty is glossy. It is the age of the gloss. Magazine covers were laminated miracles of airbrushing. You couldn't see a pore, a freckle, or a flaw. The ideal skin tone was not "clean" or "glass-like"; it was spray-tanned —a uniform, tangerine-kissed bronze that signaled wealth, leisure, and a disdain for the sun's actual damage. It was the aesthetic of The Hills , of a bottle of Veuve Clicquot chilling on a white leather banquette, of the iPhone 3G’s new, shiny screen. portrait of a beauty 2008

Looking back, the "Portrait of a Beauty 2008" is both gaudy and innocent. It’s a picture of a world that still believed in the magic of the magazine, the power of the airbrush, and the simple idea that beauty was something you put on. It wasn't authentic. It wasn't inclusive. But it was, in its own strange, laminated way, the last true portrait of an illusion. Look closely at the frame