Lightening Up on the Quest for ‘Healthy Color’
W ith crop tops and cap-sleeve Ts being all the rage for summer, golden midriffs and biceps have become desirable fashion accessories. Nothing homelier, we think, than stark-white anything coming between a groovy top and bottom. But how much color is enough, how much too much? Is it a tan we need? Or just a little blush?
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SHE: I’m all for my ultra-light tan, the one I got in Hawaii last week from wearing 30-strength sun block on the beach. It took days to earn it, natch, and I came back to California looking fit and healthy, not bronzed to the max.
But oh, those Hawaii sun worshipers. Just about every twentysomething waitress--especially the blondes--looked sixtysomething around the eyes and mouth. As a pal says, “a tan fades, but wrinkles last forever.” What are they going to look like at 30? 40? 50?
HE: If they don’t look like Gabby Hartnett’s catcher’s mitt (Hartnett played for the Cubs in the ‘20s and ‘30s, so we’re talking about an OLD catcher’s mitt), they’ll probably be auditioning for Stephen King bio-horror movies.
I don’t want to sound like a Cassandra, but Mr. Sun is no longer our pal. The ozone layer these days is about as impenetrable as a wet Kleenex, and the rays that are hitting us are of the nastiest sort. But we still cling to the idea that if you don’t look like George Hamilton (a young George; he’s been looking awfully leathery lately), you’re less attractive.
These days, there’s a piper to be paid: Get nice and brown today, look like a nuke survivor when you get to be middle-aged. If you get to be middle-aged.
SHE: While I was in Hawaii, I took a peek at the underside of my upper arms and saw perfect, unlined, freckle-free skin. It was the first time that I actually made the connection between how young that area looked compared to the top-side of my arms. If only I hadn’t baked myself like a ham when I was in my teens!
I also took the time (I had lots of it) to have a confrontation with my upper chest area. Did I have the “California road-map chest” that an East Coast friend talks about? (“Why do those California women always show off their weathered chests in low-cut tops?” she asks after visits here. “They look terrible!”) Mine’s so-so. If a road-map chest is at the 100-mile mark, I’m at about 70.
HE: File the following under “Kids, don’t try this at home”: Before I came to the inevitable but ridiculously obvious conclusion that I was truly Anglo-Saxon, I used to try desperately to turn brown in the summer like my dark-skinned, dark-eyed, dark-haired friends. This resulted in a series of once-or-twice-a-year sunburns so crimson that they could ignite cotton bedsheets.
I tried every suntan product known to man. No dice. Every June I became Elmo the Lobster Boy. I shed my skin like a snake.
Finally, well into adulthood, I gave up. While my friends took their vacations in Mazatlan and Hawaii, I took mine in Mammoth. In January. With No. 30 sun block. Or Ireland. In October. On horseback, in the rain, with lots of heavy sweaters and tweed caps. And No. 30 sun block. These days, if anybody rags me about my far-less-than-bronze appearance, I pretend to study a part of their face, put on a worried expression and ask, “Has . . . has that mole always been there”
Besides, the margaritas in Galway are just as good as the ones in Lahaina.
SHE: Being California born-and-raised, I’ve always had a thing for the Golden Look. Nothing like a little time in the sun to freshen a tired face, soften a stark-white body. And for me, that still holds. I have a real tough time tossing on a bathing suit over a no-tan torso. So I head for the back yard to get a little color before I wear a swimsuit in public.
I’ve talked to dermatologists about this, and they say sun is fine--even desirable for some skin problems--as long as one wears a sunscreen and doesn’t overdo it.
Do you like your summer women tan a la Bo Derek in the movie “10”?
HE: I have to admit I find a light tan attractive on some women. But I still have a real weakness for women with red hair, which pretty much puts the kibosh on even the slightest tan. To me, the trade-off is more than worth it. I just don’t know of any real tanning options for the very fair-skinned person. Are there any? Any ideas on how we palefaces can compensate?
SHE: Dress like Stevie Dykstra, my red-haired grammar school friend! His skin was as white as a refrigerator when he joined us at Alamitos Bay in Long Beach for those endless childhood summers. He always wore aqua blue trunks. His fashion philosophy: blend in with the blue of the water and no one will notice that you’re as white as a ghost. The kids used to tease him, but I bet they’re not laughing now.
When you’re a paleface, you should play up your beach look; go for bright, bold colors that contrast with your light skin. Pastels are also flattering to the fair-toned. And if you’re really self-conscious, make a beach cover-up part of your silhouette.
HE: You’re right about the bright stuff. Maybe that’s why I instinctively search out aloha shirts.
But I don’t go to the beach much anymore. I’ve put in enough time there. Maybe we fair-skinned types all ought to get together and become mushroom farmers. Think of the bucks we’d save on sun block.
