Frances McDormand Went Sans Fards On The Cover Of Vogue
Frances McDormand has never been into the whole Hollywood glam scene. In 2019 she wore Birkenstocks to the Oscars. The year before she picked up her Independent Spirit Award in PJs. And at 63, her face is seemingly free of fillers, Botox, Restalyne, and whatever else the cat people of Hollywood are injecting under their skin (pudding?). So color me unsurprised when Frances went sans fards for the cover of Vogue’s January issue. Well, at least she appears makeup-free. Someone is still credited for doing her hair and makeup. What a cakewalk gig that musta been.
Here’s Frances’ cover, shot by Annie “I’m Bad At Lighting Black Skin” Leibovitz:
And another picture from inside the magazine:
The article is typical long-form celeb kiss-assery with approximately four flowery adjectives per sentence (via Vogue):
At close range McDormand is quite beautiful.Her skin is rosy and glows with good health, enhanced (I imagine) by the fresh drinking water she procures from a spring near her house. In repose her expression tends to be deadpan, except for her eyes, which are deep blue and have a mischievous glimmer.
Woof. The article also gets into Frances rejecting Hollywood’s beauty standards:
McDormand has been making deft statements about age on the awards circuit—the not wearing makeup, the not dyeing her hair. She wore Birkenstocks to the Oscars because why the hell not? McDormand says it’s political. But I wonder if that, too, sells her a bit short. Her success is much more than symbolic, after all. If she’d done lots of things to her face—if she were no longer utterly recognizable—what characters could she play?
Makes you wonder about the stuff McDormand was told. Her example seems to disprove it. Her example seems to say: Not only is it not true, the opposite might be true.
OK, the journalist lost me by the end, but sure. I actually think it’s awesome that Frances gives a giant “fuck off” to fards and fillers. But for regular people, no makeup isn’t so much a political choice as it’s a “me tired/busy/lazy/what’s the point of any of this in 2020?” I stopped wearing makeup entirely the moment I locked down my boyfriend in the summer (such a feminist sentence!). And the pores on my nose are gigantic! Huge! Gaping! Craters! So where’s my medal for bravery?
Pic: Vogue