Moore expresses in her speech the pressure of not feeling “smart enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or successful enough” in the industry. She then accentuates the need for women to “put down the measuring stick” and to stop comparing or conforming themselves to Hollywood’s surreal laws of beauty and perfection. She further emphasizes this in an interview with Variety by describing The Substance’s contemplation of “women and their value diminishing as they age.” She then describes how her character Elizabeth gave great value to “everything external and how she then internalized it.”

While Moore affirms that she did not feel personally tied to her character’s journey, her own ageless looks seem instead to express the actress’ embodiment of Elizabeth’s relationship to beauty standards.

Indeed, Moore’s words appear to tackle the industry’s demanding beauty standards; however, her smooth face at sixty-two seems to abide by them and confirm them… and money makes the process all the easier. While it is undeniable that Moore looks stunning, what I find the most striking is this out-of-reach and, dare I say, out-of-this-world pinnacle of surrealism and unfairness at which women’s beauty standards have risen.

Instead of praising the natural beauty of women at any age, her tricenarian looks communicate unrealistic expectations for everyday women to stay forever young. To my eyes, it illustrates the toxicity of the French expressions that describing a younger woman as une belle plante, a beautiful and fresh blooming plant, and an older woman as une fleur fanée, a fading, wilted flower. Moore’s seemingly unwrinkled and tightly lifted face takes us away from the recent embrace of aging gracefully and brings us back to this impossible state of running against the clock. Always worried that our good looks will fade with age. Always worried that we will not be relevant anymore if we do not look twenty-five. Always worried that we will be replaced by younger, fresher women. Always worried that we will not be sexy or dateable anymore, especially to the male gaze.

I will not deny that Moore’s speech can be inspiring, and I agree that it is ridiculous for women to measure themselves against that fictitious perfect woman Hollywood so desires and fantasizes about. However, to hear this coming from the lips of a woman who has clearly indulged in that very fantasy only highlights the hypocrisy of it all and further glamorizes these unrealistic Hollywood beauty standards. Many women in their sixties will not have by their side Moore’s talented and, no doubt, expensive plastic surgeon, as speculated. While many know her looks are not natural, her youthfulness at sixty-two is praised. Resultingly, such superficial, demanding beauty standards diminish the natural beauty of women at sixty.

An article in The Daily Mail collected reactions posted on X to Demi’s appearance at the SFFilm Awards. Many denounce the role that money plays in sustaining such youthful looks, with one user further condemning how it is “unfair to expect 50+ year old women to compete with 20 somethings on the dating market (sic)”. Another user addresses how these celebrities are exceptions to reality, but due to their constant representation in the media, “they shape our perception of what is normal”.

However, the comment section of a Facebook post addressing the same unfairness shows greater positivity towards her potentially surgically re-invented self. Many commenters highlight how “gorgeous,” “beautiful,” “amazing,” and “great” she looks, and some even express how the focus should not be on her looks, but on her acclaimed performance in The Substance. The latter appears to condemn this superficial hyperfixation people have with women’s looks at the expense of their professional value – in this case, Moore’s talent as an actress. Indeed, women are too often artificially defined by their outer image rather than by what really matters: their worth as a person and a professional.

These comments emphasize the contradicting space Hollywood women must navigate, where they are expected to respond to the assumption that movie stars must look glamorous and flawless, all while being criticized for it. How does one negotiate in this world? How can one make everyone happy? The comments supporting Moore also express how people should just leave her alone – it is her body and her money. She does not owe anything to anyone and should not be held accountable for doing what pleases her. However, did she lean on the likely shoulder of plastic surgery out of her own free will, or did she do so because of the conscious or unconscious influence of Hollywood?

I think it is important to remember that being a Hollywood star comes with a certain degree of responsibility. She is a woman whose fame has made her greatly influential. Her image is not neutral or innocent but carries the price of being looked up to and inspiring to many – whether for her success, her beauty, or both. Regardless of whether she wants to or not, Demi Moore’s professional and aesthetic decisions endorse certain life choices, and today it is the glamorization of an impossible youth.

The post The Impossibility of Hollywood’s Beauty Standards appeared first on The McGill Daily.

At my ripe age of twenty, I still do not know where home truly is. I share my cultural baggage between a French mother and an English father. If you see my history, however, the data will start in the United States of America, lead you to Hungary, give you a brief few months in Paris, and finally eight years in Belgium. As a result, I am a French person who is not French and an English person who is not English. I am somebody who lived in Belgium but is not Belgian.

To the francophones, I am an anglophone. To the anglophones, I am a francophone. To my French family, I am English. To my English family, I am French. To some, I am even Belgian—though to the Belgians, I am a foreigner. On top of everything, I have more of an American accent than an English one. To me, I am lost. I am an impure product of my nations, the holy bastard of the Hundred Years’ War.

Yet, in Montreal I make sense. Despite not being Québécoise, I am a logical cog in this city’s intercultural machine. Montreal sits between the U.S. and anglophone Canada, while also having strong historical and linguistic roots to France. This results in an incredible blend of French and English actively fusing together to create Québécois French. The Montrealers switch from English to French with the same ease as putting one foot in front of the other. They dazzle you with the Bonjour, Hi greeting and own whatever English words they use as a natural extension of their French. For instance: “Es-tu down pour chiller?” meaning “Are you down to chill?”, or “Ça fait la job” meaning “It does the job.”

I indulge in this linguistic cocktail myself, having grown up in a dual-language household of French and English. My French teachers back in Belgium or my family back in France would penalize this expression as “des anglicismes” or “du franglais.” I have seen those words marked in red and underlined three times on my written papers countless times. However, this so-called “improper” French is very proper in Montreal.

I find myself right at home naturally switching from one language to the other. Starting a sentence in English and finishing my thought in French. Throwing in a random word from the other language, because I feel it is more fitting. All the while being understood and, instead of being looked down upon, being responded to in the same fashion. Over the summer, my childhood best friend, after witnessing this linguistic ballet, declared Montreal to be the most perfect city for me. She could not have been more right.

Montreal’s heterogeneous landscape does not stop there. When looking at the city through a magnifying glass, the influence of immigrant communities in building the foundation of Montreal is striking; Little Italy, Little Portugal, Little Maghreb, Little Latin America, Mile End Chavurah. These neighborhoods alone place Montreal within a dialogue of diverse cultural experiences, identities, religions, and languages. My own experience living for a year in Little Portugal has only highlighted this further. The Portuguese population was present not only through local businesses, such as bakeries and rotisseries, but also in church-centered festivities.

My old apartment was right by the Portuguese Mission Santa Cruz Catholic Church on rue Rachel. Throughout the summer, this church hosted a myriad of very popular festivals—as I would walk by, I would hear Portuguese everywhere in the air. Portuguese spoken between families and friends. Portuguese sung on stage by performers or projected through speakers. There was also a day when a Portuguese Catholic procession walked down rue Saint-Urbain. All these events showed me how such a public expression of Portuguese religious-cultural identity is not just confined to a church parking lot, but quite literally runs through the streets. A neighborhood bonus is that even the local Desjardins is called Caixa Portuguesa, with all the employees speaking Portuguese. Indeed, I was able to see how the Portuguese identity and language is entrenched in Montreal, proving how well immigrant communities have made themselves at home in this city.

My sister’s husband is Colombian, and the rest of his family continue to live in Montreal. Connecting with them has allowed me to gain insights into the well-established Latino community of Montreal, which I mainly have access to through food. I am amazed by how accessible Colombian food is for my family, despite living miles away from their homeland. For instance, they can buy frozen packages of pre-chopped and assembled ingredients for traditional Colombian soups, such as the Sancocho soup and the Ajiaco soup. They can also find fresh Colombian tamales, buñuelos, and pan de yuca. South American grocery stories, such as the Sabor Latino, Marché Andes, and Marché des Amériques, are central hubs for this preservation and expression of Latino tradition in Montreal. They allow immigrant families to stay connected with their culture and community through food, instead of losing touch and diluting into a homogeneous Montreal identity.

Montreal is a city that has so much to offer to third culture kids like me. It is built on a constant dialogue between different languages and cultures sharing the same space. This gives me the feeling that in Montreal’s great puzzle of identities, there is a place for everyone to fit in. It is a city where you are bound to find people who share your background or your journey, people who may come from the same places, share the same language, or have the same third culture experience. You may not be from Montreal, but Montreal is made for you.

The post Montreal Is Made For You appeared first on The McGill Daily.