It's 9:58; I have a cold, and in exactly two minutes I have a work meeting. Despite feeling like the physical embodiment of a big toe, luckily I've never felt the need to be particularly preened for these colleague gatherings, until I digitally slump myself onto Google Meet and see a message: "Touch up your appearance?"
As a Gen Z growing up in the digital age of Instagram and influencers, I'm no stranger to photo editing software, but for some reason, this innocent enquiry from Google stopped me in my tracks. Yes, we live in a filtered online world, but when did it leak into my workday? And more importantly, should I have to touch up my appearance for a meeting?
While I'm partial to a bit of social media brainrot, I've been wise to steer clear of overly filtered influencers for my self-preservation. I learned very quickly that the online world can blur reality and fiction, leading to a good ol' bit of body dysmorphia if I'm not careful.
With this in mind, I no longer edit my Instagram posts – not as some grand middle finger to FaceTune, but simply because I don't feel the need to anymore. This is what I look like... take it or leave it. But in this moment of morning flu-riddled weakness, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be nicer to look a bit more fresh?
Soon I was plunged down the rabbit hole of Google Meet's various appearance filters, from 'dewy fresh' to 'dramatic eye'. Each looks ridiculous on my sallow-skinned, sickness-ridden face – the beauty filter equivalent of a white-painted landlord special.
Each filter is designed in the style of a makeup aesthetic, likely an attempt to make female-presenting folks feel the need to be 'presentable', even when WFH. I note there are no masculine-leaning beauty filters – no 'rugged stubble' or 'handsome glow' to enhance their looks.
And yes, I realise I'm being dramatic (illness tends to do that to me), but Google Meet's silly filters point to a looming issue that worries me. At what point do we start to lose a sense of what we look like? Will future board meetings be full of flawlessly filtered execs? Will beauty become the new predominant form of professionalism?
I do not want to lose the privilege of joining a work call looking slightly haggard. Turning up in my natural form is not just a matter of convenience, but the assurance that I can be taken seriously in my career without the performance of beauty. While the suggestion to "Touch up your appearance?" is an option now, I fear one day it could be a mandatory professional demand.
