The Beautiful People

Why could we not avert our eyes from her? Was it because she beckoned? Or was there something else we longed for?By IAN BURUMA for Time
These words were penned in honor of an extraordinary woman who left the world in a state far better than she found it. Mother Teresa? No, silly. Diana Spencer.
In 1997, the world was set to mourning. Princess Diana died tragically while being pursued by pernicious paparazzi. Her coy countenance graced the covers of Vogue, Elle, and Time. Her death was followed not long after by the death of her favorite designer, Gianni Versace. After his murder, the world likewise felt its heart pull in the direction of glamour. New York City was just growing scar tissue over Audrey Hepburn's demise in 1993. The international beauty brigade couldn't deal with the shock of losing another icon.
So there was this other woman who perished in the summer of '97. Her name was Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu. This name doesn't so much roll off the tongue as stumble down on clumsy bear feet. She must have realized this and got herself a publicist, becoming a much easier-to-prounounce Mother Teresa. So why did she merit only a couple of lousy spreads in Newsweek and an obligatory mention in Time? Why didn't Vogue salute her as L'Ange des Enfants, the way it did Ms. Hepburn? Sure, she performed a miracle or whatever (something icky about a tumor). But she didn't try hard enough where it counts: Prettiness.
I understand - I guess - that missionary work in leper colonies doesn't leave a girl much time for her toilette, and Lord knows there must be a dearth of good dermatologists in Calcutta, but really. If she had really wanted this Sister of Charity thing to take off, she could have made herself a touch more camera-ready. Now, I don't know what a missionary packs in her Prada duffel, but I'll bet dollars to doughnuts that there's room for a Chanel lip gloss and a tub of La Mer moisturizer. She needed to come down to Earth and look at her predecessors: The Angelic Eyes of Joan D'Arc (doubtless she dabbed a bit of Great Lash on before those portraits were painted); Saint Bernadette, the ingenue; and, let us not forget, the Virgin Mary. She was at least in her forties when all those beatific portraits were done. (What did Mary know that Teresa didn't? Lighting, honey. It's EVERYthing.) There's a reason her beatification is taking so long - she's a tough PR sell.
So, again, let us not be befuddled at M.T.'s lack of post-mortem publicity. It was her own fault for not trying hard enough to be good-looking. If I could go back in time, I'd like to help her image with a few timely fashion spreads with Sting or Bono and gift her a facial peel. She could have had Comme des Garcons craft her a much more flattering habit, which would have done loads to ingratiate her with the right people. Who knows, maybe Elton John would have rewritten the lyrics to a song about her, as well as Di? (Alas, hindsight is 20/20.)
In our paths to greatness, let's be ever-aware of the importance of lighting, smiling, a few no-nonsense wardrobe staples, and a skincare regimen. Remember the immortal words of America's greatest living actor, George Hamilton (no stranger to the sun himself) in his finest cinematic hour as Zorro: The Gay Blade: "There is no shame in being poor: Only in dressing poorly."