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One of the first things I noticed when I arrived at New Jersey’s Newark Airport last week after living in Tokyo for nearly four months was how different everyone looked. Not different from the Japanese, but strikingly different from one another. Because Japan’s population is about 98% Japanese, people’s general appearance, clothing, and other aesthetic choices are rooted in a single culture—which results in a less diverse array of styles than might emerge from a broader mix of ethnicities and cultures. I must’ve been at Newark for at least 10 minutes before I heard a word of English. And what a stew of faces, of skin colors, of dress, of head coverings: straw sun hats and turbans and crocheted rainbow yarmulkes! While I was away, the news from home—so much antagonism from all sides—often seemed grim; the conformity I experienced in Japan, comforting and safe. But seeing again the variety of cultures here, I felt suddenly protective of our gorgeous mess. How could we possibly have survived this long with so cacophonous a culture clash? You might say “With classism, racism, colonialism, paternalism, and sexism, among other things,” and you would not be wrong. But wading into this field of wild diversity inspired renewed affection for our democratic experiment. And for Rodney King’s anguished, supremely sad plea: People, can’t we all just get along?
“Ask Val” answers your urgent questions, Vol. 34
Is that you, L? With your tote bag crammed, as usual, with books? So happy to see you!
Q: Are there any procedures for getting rid of or minimizing the tiny red veins (which my Dad also has) popping up on my face? An aesthetician recommended some sort of three-part method but I’m not sure if I should go ahead with it. What are your thoughts?
A: I’ve had those little red veins on my face, too. A dermatologist long ago zapped them with a device that temporarily left me looking like (as my husband observed) I’d shattered a glass door with my face. Remember Harold and the Purple Crayon? You would’ve thought Harold had had a field day on me. After getting used to the idea that I would just have to be patient till the squiggles faded, I found it interesting which of my colleagues at O, The Oprah Magazine asked me about them and which pretended nothing was different. When Gayle King saw me, she immediately cried, “Val! What happened to you?” (An exclamation, despite Gayle’s tone of genuine concern, I’m never fond of hearing.) Other colleagues tried to carry on a conversation with me as if my face looked completely normal. My trust in those people shifted at the time; I never felt totally comfortable with them again. When the purple marks disappeared, so did the little red veins.
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Anyhoo, I emailed devoted HNTFUYF DermDiva Heidi Waldorf for her advice about your little red veins. Following is a slightly edited version of her response:
Tiny red veins—or ‘telangiectasia’—of the face are very common. The two primary causes are rosacea and sun damage. Since rosacea is familial, patients frequently tell me their mom or dad has the same. We can also see prominent telangiectasia on the neck and chest from chronic sun damage. On the neck, it’s called ‘poikiloderma’ [Val here. That word is from the Greek for spotted or embroidered; I would’ve named it pointilloderma.] You mention an aesthetician’s advice, but it’s important to be evaluated by a board-certified dermatologist for diagnosis and to confirm there are no precancerous or cancerous lesions in the area that require treatment. If the diagnosis is rosacea, you may be given topical or oral prescriptions to improve what you have now and keep it from progressing.
Treatment of telangiectasia is with either a vascular specific laser or an intense pulsed light device. Depending on the extent of the redness, several treatments may be necessary. Treatment can feel like a rubber band snapping on the skin. [Val again: If you grew up with an older sibling, you’ll recognize that sensation.] After treatment, the skin can look blotchy and hivey (though rarely swollen). Using ice afterward is helpful. Like so many treatments, it’s best to submit to it when you are at your least tan and when you don’t have any cold sores or other infections on the face or neck. While you’re being zapped, it’s felicitous to remember that the absorption of laser or intense pulsed light as heat can trigger collagen remodeling—meaning that repeat treatments may result in the effect of a more
youthfulbouncy, smooth, and even-toned complexion.
Book Club News: New book about a rich lady who lived a long time!
Though I’ve been a latecomer to audiobooks, once I discovered them I couldn’t get enough. I borrow them from the public library, but as I’ve mentioned before, sometimes the library snatches them back before I can finish. So I'm happy to share I'm partnering with Chirp to organize an audiobook club of biographies and memoirs called “Unfiltered Women.” Two things: It’s free to subscribe and Chirp offers great deals. Plus, you obviously get to keep the book to listen to at your leisure.
Here’s how it works. Every other month I’ll announce a new book club pick we’ll listen to together. You’ll have a chance to share your thoughts on the book a few weeks later and hear what other readers thought, too. My third pick is the biography Bunny Mellon: The Life of an American Style Legend by the superb reporter Meryl Gordon. I’m not alone in wondering what it’s like to be wildly wealthy (consider the success of shows about the Kardashians and the “real” housewives). I don’t watch those shows, but I do love to read about the wealthiest of the wealthy. For me, the story of Bunny Mellon—high society and serious horticulturalist (she designed the White House Rose Garden), patron of the arts, wife of multimillionaire Paul Mellon—is like a piece of rich chocolate cake; I don’t want a steady diet of it, but it’s delicious. How well-off was she? Though she owned many homes (in the Caribbean, Paris, New York, Cape Cod, and Nantucket), her main residence was a 4,000-acre estate in Virginia with its own mile-long airstrip to accommodate her private plane. Unlike some other socialites of her time like Slim Keith, Mellon was not a great beauty. But she surrounded herself with beautiful things: gorgeous table settings, magnificent bouquets, exquisite gardening outfits designed by Balenciaga and Givenchy. The most satisfying takeaway from this account of a long and privileged life (Mellon lived to 103)? In spite of the opportunities open to them, the rich are no happier than you or me.
To get started, go to chirpbooks.com/val and press FOLLOW to join my club. (Again, it’s free and there is NO commitment.) There, for a limited time, you can buy Bunny Mellon for only $4.99 (normally $25.98), including a 50% discount with code VAL50 if it's your first Chirp purchase.
Val Asks You
Don’t be shy! What’s your most vexing or intractable appearance issue? Send your beauty-related questions to valeriemonroe@substack.com. If I don’t have a good answer, I’ll find someone who does.
HNTFUYF, a Payola-Free Zone
Readers, a few of you have wondered aloud to me if I get a cut from sales when I mention a beauty product. I do not. I only mention products I’d like to buy myself, and therefore think you might like, too. I share this so you know my recommendations are offered without obligation. All posts and the archive are free; there’s currently no paywall. I rely on readers for financial support, so please consider becoming a paying subscriber if you can.
Bless Our Mess
It's strange to be reading your posts backwards in time about events and experiences in the past. Regarding your observations about our diversity in the US (thank you for such a post), it's an interesting and/both when it comes to being part of the majority (like when I visited Hawaii or when I moved to southern CA and suddenly feeling at ease) or in the minority ("you speak English so well" and my (internal) response,"duh, I was born in Boston.") as I was growing up in a Jewish White neighborhood then being a minority in a majority-minority context (my friend's 60th birthday party with her African-American friends and family or visitng a Black church and I felt completely at ease as well). The experiment continues...
Welcome back, dear Val! One thought about your wonderful post: I’ve always known you as a person who thoughtfully infuses honesty with compassion. So I’m not surprised that your trust in your co-workers shifted.
I’m thinking, though, that perhaps they didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, you were still the same fabulous Val to them, blotchy face and all!
But I can relate to how you must have felt at the time. Like when you get spinach or salad stuck between your teeth and nobody tells you. I always want to say, “Please tell me!” For me, better an awkward moment of embarrassment than not to have one’s “predicament” acknowledged. ☺️