Ilene Beckerman Shares Snark and Insight in Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness

I’ve never been much into makeovers. From the ten-minute makeovers that are a weekly feature on the local news to the makeover that allegedly won Clay Aiken his spot in the semifinals during the second season of American Idol, they’ve always seemed to superficial to me. It seems that Ilene Beckerman, author of Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness, came to a similar conclusion in the preparations for her elementary school reunion though she is far more fashion-conscious than I ever was.

My friend Libbie lent me this pithy book, which is just over a hundred pages long and feels considerably shorter because it is filled with white space, squiggly illustrations and text boxes containing letters to her granddaughter or various famous folks. In it, Beckerman talks about her lifelong struggles to feel beautiful in her own skin. The looming class reunion brought all of this to the surface, prompting her to examine her thoughts more thoroughly and create a book of advice she could pass on to her granddaughter Olivia.

Most of the pages that don’t feature a letter have only three or four short paragraphs, if that. The letters, meanwhile, are generally only about a paragraph long. Libbie and I have both enjoyed writing letters to famous people as well as each other, so this was an aspect of the book to which we could both relate. Throughout the book, she shares lots of letters, few of which she actually sent. The messages to Olivia are usually wise or sweet, while the notes to celebrities tend to be snarky or self-deprecating. Many of them reflect a preoccupation with physical appearance.

For instance, right from the get-go she mentions that she has spent huge portions of her life obsessed with her clothing, hair, makeup and other aspects of her looks, often trying to emulate supermodels or glamorous actresses. She then reveals a letter that she claims she wrote to Mother Teresa years ago in which she confesses that she wishes she had spent that fashion-focused time on more noble pursuits and wonders what she might have made of herself if she had. Then she adds that she wishes Mother Teresa – or Sandra Day O’Connor, another woman she says she admires – had Audrey Hepburn’s wardrobe.

She writes to a lot of people throughout the book. Other non-recipients include Sofia Coppola, Ann Landers, Bess Truman, Shirley MacLaine, Ava Gardner, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, Sarah Jessica Parker, Kate Hudson, Gwyneth Paltrow, Gene Tierney, Madonna, Helen Gurley Brown of Cosmopolitan, Sophia Loren, Goldie Hawn, Elizabeth Taylor, Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe and Meryl Streep. These letters usually begin with some variation of “I’ve always been a fan of yours but” or “even though” nearly every letter includes some bit of advice, though obviously some of it is not meant to be taken seriously (particularly since some of it is directed at people who have been dead for years).

Beckerman talks about how hung-up on appearances she used to be and honestly, to some extent, still is. While she doesn’t always take her own advice, she tries to tell Olivia that looks aren’t everything, and neither is star power. Early in the book, she tells her, “I hope you don’t have to wait as long as I did to know nobody’s perfect.” Mostly, she seems to think that society has progressed and that Olivia will be more able to feel content with herself than she did as a girl. Sometimes, though, she is horrified by modern trends. After stumbling upon MTV while channel surfing, she writes, “Kids seemed to be doing things to music that I didn’t know about until after I was married… and I certainly never did to music.”

Mostly, however, she expresses optimism that Olivia will be able to navigate the excesses, pressures and temptations of her generation to become a poised young woman. “I wish I’d known that people liked me just the way I was, even if I didn’t like me the way I was,” she writes in her final letter, having been surprised at how kindly her classmates treated her and each other and how insecure many of them reported feeling during their school days. “It takes a lifetime to get smart,” she advises her but hopes that she can get a head start.

The quirky illustrations add to the fun of this book. Some are quite silly, like the “bad hair days” illustration that features, among others, the headgear of Amelia Earhart and Whistler’s Mother. All of them have a very sketchy quality about them. These aren’t particularly artistic illustrations, but they are often amusing.

If you’ve ever struggled with self-esteem related to body issues, you may find solace or at least a smile in this book. Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness is probably not going to change anyone’s life, but it may make you a little more aware of the ways in which the fashion industry drives our culture, sometimes to the detriment of impressionable young minds.