Skin, which was most often issued to us as neonates unmarked, was to be tended with great care, valued and aspired to as "good skin." Acne and other dermatological diseases were the enemy. Smoking and too much sun were suspect, but not yet understood. For us, clean, young, glowing, golden and caramel expanses of unblemished skin -- unsullied by moles, hair, freckles, the pathology of scabs and rashes and bumps -- was the ideal. Beautiful and sexy, so desirable it was airbrushed onto models, that blank canvas was summoned by those who wanted others to "show some skin."
Then came the writ-upon part. Inevitably, we knew, time and experience would mark us up, add scars and discolorations, wrinkles (and their athletic cousin, weathering). But American culture had also responded with an aesthetic of acceptance, although not totally embraced: aging skin, upon which life had written its owner's story, revealed character.
Last week the Pew Research Center for the People and the Press reported "Millennials' Judgments About Recent Trends Not So Different," citing a range of societal issues where attitudes of approximately a third of our population, those born between 1982 and 2003, are compared with attitudes of earlier generations. From cell phones and online shopping to the purchase of green goods, our attitudes are not so different.
Until you get to the issue of The Growing Number of People Who Get Tattoos. There, 15% of the Millennials saw the trend as a change for the better; 51% of the Boomers saw it as a change for the worse.
Most of my generation, as we slough off the dry and ashy and lather on the Retinol, hyaluronic acid and SPF 50, hold on to the aesthetic of healthy, natural skin (and there are still those whose religions forbid tattoos and other defilements of the body). We are uneasy about body art beyond the single tat of a butterfly, especially the arms forever sleeved in ink.
For better or for worse, we were not encouraged to write upon this scabbard ourselves.
