The Culture Code (8 page)

The same archetype in a different culture can have a different opposing force. In France, for example, the archetype on the other side of the axis from freedom is not prohibition; it is privilege. Throughout their history, the French have vacillated between periods when a privileged class ruled the day and periods when this class is overthrown and the nation abolishes privileges and titles. The most famous example occurred, of course, in 1789, though it is interesting to note that Napoleon began a new era of titles and privilege not long thereafter. Today, France has again shifted on this axis toward freedom, but there is still a very real tension, as a result of the Communist Party’s espousal of many of the tenets of privilege (minimal or no work, government responsibility for financial welfare, and so on). The French strictly enforce a thirty-five-hour workweek and have six weeks of paid vacation a year, free medical care, and free education. It might be a shock to the French themselves to hear me describe this way of life as aristocratic, but while the
content
of the behavior has changed, the
structure
is very consistent with aristocracy: the notion that working is bad and beneath any person of worth. Though there are few actual aristocrats in France any longer, the undercurrent of privilege still exists, as exemplified by a system where you receive more money in unemployment benefits than you can in many jobs.

When Disney launched Euro Disney in Paris, they learned how much privilege means to the French culture. Originally, the theme park had the same rules as all other Disney parks, barring pets, smoking, and the consumption of alcohol. The French stayed away in droves because they didn’t like such restrictions. Disney broke through to the French market only when they began to offer special “privilege passes” that allowed access (for a premium price) to certain parts of the park where visitors could take their pets, smoke, and drink wine. The idea of islands of privilege in a sea of equality was right on Code for the French.

BEAUTY
AS A
BALANCING
ACT
AND
A
NOBLE
PURSUIT

When Cover Girl (a division of Procter & Gamble) hired me to find the Culture Code for beauty in America, the tension related to this archetype emerged in my very first discovery sessions.

Female participants, raised in a culture where the unconscious Code for sex is
VIOLENCE
, consistently told stories whose unspoken message was that one needed to strike a balance between being attractive and being provocative. They gave the clear impression that a line divided being beautiful and being
too sexy,
and that if they crossed it, they put themselves in danger.

Certainly, there are messages supporting this notion throughout the American culture: a judge deciding a rape victim provoked her attacker with her appearance or her actions, for example, or the slashing of a model’s face because her assailant thought she was too perfect. American women therefore navigate an axis between beauty and provocativeness, coming as close to crossing over as they are comfortable without actually doing so. Unconsciously, they compile a list of rules to follow: high heels are fine at a social function, but too sexy for the workplace; a tight-fitting, low-cut dress might be acceptable at a private cocktail party with your husband, but if you’re single and you wear it to a bar, you’re on the prowl; bold makeup can work for a night on the town, but if you wear it to the supermarket, expect some sidelong glances. One of the reasons Victoria’s Secret is such a successful company is that it offers women an easy way to navigate this axis: they can be as feminine and sexy as they want
underneath
their clothes, the secret side. Lingerie is the safe way to be beautiful and provocative at the same time. In fact, the name of the company itself suggests the axis, the tension. On one side, we have “Victoria,” suggesting Victorian rigidity and repression; on the other side, the “Secret,” the hidden closet, the forbidden expression of sexual attraction and beauty.

Uncovering this tension told me a great deal about the perception of beauty in this culture. Being a woman in America is difficult. I often joke (though I am only half joking) that if I am ever reincarnated, I hope I don’t come back as an American woman. While I admire American women greatly, I wouldn’t want to have to go through what they go through. So many rules; so many tensions.

Understanding the tension was only part of my task for Cover Girl, however. In order to discover the Code, I needed to dig deeper into the stories, to ignore what the participants said in search of what they really meant.

I was about fourteen and I was invited to this big party. I knew that I needed a new outfit. I really wanted to look good. There was a guy that I kind of liked. So I asked my mom for some money for my outfit. I went to the store and found just what I was looking for. I tried this outfit on and I looked hot. I danced all night with this guy and we started to date. I felt that this new outfit did the trick for me.

—a woman in her fifties

Last summer. On vacation with my family. Ten pounds thinner than usual. Great haircut and color, good skin, manicure, pedicure, summer tan. At a deck party, I danced with my husband on the deck. I felt young and in love. My husband couldn’t keep his eyes off me. He said he was proud to be with me.

—a forty-two-year-old woman

The only time I can remember looking good is when I remarried eighteen years ago to a wonderful man after being alone for seventeen years due to an unhappy marriage. Unfortunately, he died three months after that wonderful experience. I have not felt that I look that good at all since.

—a sixty-five-year-old woman

My most powerful experience of looking good was when I was fourteen—got breasts, my period, the whole thing. I fell in love with a very nice guy that was five years older than me. My whole world changed.

—a woman in her thirties

I was three or four years old and my mother’s cousin came to visit us. He made a great fuss over my smile and how happy I always was.

—a fifty-three-year-old woman

In 1970, I met a man named Charles and we started dating. On one date, we went into the city for dinner. It was July and I had been going to the beach so I had the greatest tan. I had gone to a new beauty parlor that day and my hair was perfect. I wore a hot-pants outfit. I walked next to Charles with my shoulders back, my hair flowing, and I felt like a movie star.

—a fifty-six-year-old woman

My lover made me a thirtieth-birthday party. I wore a lacy black dress. Before the party, there was excitement and anticipation. I looked good and I was loved. I felt cherished. I was the most special person to one other person.

—a thirty-six-year-old woman

The responses from the hundreds of participants in this discovery revealed something very poignant about the way American women regard beauty. When asked to go back to their first and most powerful memories of their own beauty, they recalled moments of romance, of attraction, of getting a man’s attention. Feeling beautiful was associated with dancing all night with a special man, with a brief, wonderful marriage, with falling in love, with feeling like a movie star, and with feeling cherished by a lover. Many of the stories revealed something even deeper. Statements such as “He was proud to be with me,” “He made a fuss,” and “I was the most special person to one other person” suggested that beauty not only attracted a man, but also changed him in a substantial way at the same time. A large majority of the stories women told about feeling beautiful related to finding a man—and a large majority of those talked about finding men who were life partners, not quick flings. The men who noticed these women weren’t slavering slobs, but people with strong, substantial feelings. There was something very powerful here.

Men are programmed for sex and, as much as he might protest this, the average man is willing to have sex with just about any woman willing to have sex with him. If a man notices a woman’s beauty, though, if he stops to admire her physical magnificence rather than simply throwing her over his shoulder, his soul is elevated to another level. If a woman can impress her beauty upon a man permanently, if she can stay beautiful in his eyes, she can make him a better human being. She is doing more than keeping herself visually appealing to him: she is elevating him from a rutting animal to something more exalted.

The Code for beauty in America is MAN’S
SALVATION
.

Think of the hugely popular and enduring film
Pretty Woman.
In that movie, Julia Roberts played a prostitute hired by a hardhearted tycoon played by Richard Gere. While she looks like a hooker, she’s nothing more than a plaything to Gere. However, when he needs her to accompany him to a formal function and when she dresses elegantly and makes herself as beautiful (rather than provocative) as possible, she wins Gere’s heart. She saves him from a life of emotional emptiness.

Another even more blatant sign of the Code at work in popular culture is with the TV show
Baywatch.
In this series, gorgeous women (most famously Pamela Anderson) perform the function of lifeguards, literally saving men (and women, too, of course) from drowning and other dangers of the water. These women perform heroic acts while appearing as though they have run into the bay straight out of the
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue.

Other cultures have different standards for beauty that relate to their own cultural Codes. Among the Arab nations, there are many different cultures, but they share many similar traits because of their common origin as desert nomads. One of these similar traits is the way they regard beauty. They see a woman’s appearance as a reflection of her man’s success. If a woman is skinny, this suggests that her husband doesn’t have the means to feed her properly. Therefore, Arab men want their women to be obese, the better to serve as walking billboards for the men’s wealth.

In Norway, beauty is a reflection of one’s connection with the natural world. Norwegian men consider slim women with athletic builds the most beautiful, because they see them as active and capable of running and skiing long distances. Norwegian women wear very little makeup and do very little with their hair because naturalness is the most beautiful thing in this culture.

THE
BEAUTIFUL
LIFE

The combination of the American Code and the tension in this culture between beauty and provocativeness can be a little overwhelming for women. They need to be beautiful to save the men in their lives and thereby to elevate and perpetuate the species; at the same time, though, they can’t be
too
beautiful, because that is dangerous. If they have a bad hair day, are they letting down their entire species? If their dress is too short, will this lead to man’s perdition rather than his salvation?

The American tension behind beauty is an adolescent one. Adolescents live extreme lives; they are either up or down, invincible or easily defeated. The Code for beauty is man’s salvation, but the other side is perdition. The thing that can save you can also damn you. This is a very powerful tension.

Fortunately, looking at beauty through the new set of glasses provided by the Culture Code actually makes the axis a little easier to navigate. Supermodels, for instance, are very much on Code because they uphold an unattainable standard for beauty. Women can aspire to that level of perfection without feeling any pressure to achieve it. Why? Because men—the very men they are trying to save with their beauty—look at supermodels and say, “I’ll never be with a woman like that.” Supermodels are almost like benevolent members of an alien race. They are fascinating to watch and we can sometimes glean useful tips from them, but they are not
among us.
On the other hand, prostitutes and women who dress in outrageously provocative ways are completely off Code because they suggest to men an easy way to fulfill their baser desires.

Recently, Dove launched a series of ads for its firming lotion showing larger and averagely proportioned women in their underwear. The message behind the campaign is that this is a “real” product for “real” women. While the media has lauded the campaign for relating to women in a genuine way and showing them that they don’t need to be supermodels, it is off Code. When beauty is normalized, when it’s suggested that every woman looks beautiful just the way she is, the elevated nature of beauty is lost. If every woman can be an advertising model, then can anyone save your husband? It’s one thing for models to look like “the girl next door” when a girl that beautiful actually exists in very few neighborhoods in America. It’s another thing entirely when the model can literally be your neighbor. The Code tells us there is considerable mystique surrounding beauty. If that mystique becomes average, something is lost.

FAT
IS A
SPECTATOR
SPORT

Years ago, Tufts University invited me to lecture during a symposium on obesity. My spot in the program came relatively late and I listened to the other lecturers while I waited my turn. It was a distinguished group of speakers speaking to a distinguished and brilliant group of attendees—a room full of M.D.s, Ph.D.s, and a wide variety of other accomplished professionals. The crowd was also substantial in other ways. At least a third of the people in the audience were obese and easily two thirds were overweight.

Lecturer after lecturer offered solutions for America’s obesity problem, all of which revolved around education. Americans would be thinner if only they knew more about good nutrition and the benefits of exercise, they told us. Slimming down the entire country was possible through an aggressive public awareness campaign.

I found the juxtaposition of these prescriptions and the round bodies filling the room humorous. When it was my turn to speak, I couldn’t help beginning with an observation. “I think it is fascinating that the other speakers today have suggested that education is the answer to our country’s obesity problem,” I said. I slowly gestured around the room. “If education is the answer, then why hasn’t it helped more of you?” There were audible gasps in the auditorium when I said this, quite a few snickers, and five times as many sneers. Unsurprisingly, Tufts never invited me to lecture again.