My Planet: Finding Humor in the Oddest Places

Nivea Man

Men are moisturizing, and I’m a little concerned. One of the things men have always done best is not waste money on personal grooming. You could depend on a man not to slap down a day’s pay for a thimbleful of “age-defying” face goo. Men wash their faces with soap, and then—provided there’s a towel or curtain hem handy—they dry it. This is the male skin-care regimen in its entirety.

Now men are starting to question themselves. My own husband recently said to me, “Should I be moisturizing my face?” We were in The Body Shop, which now has a “For Men” line of skin care. This includes a moisturizer that they have named Face Protector, no doubt an attempt to make male customers feel more comfortable by evoking a familiar sports-gear image.

The concept of moisturizer is confusing to men, because the traditional male moisturizer has nothing to do with wrinkles. This is a substance that comes in plastic tubs, like spackling compound or bait, and has manly names like Mariner’s Hand Cream and No-Crack Hand Healer. The idea is that you’ve been out in the elements, doing rough, masculine things, and your hands are calloused and chapped and cracked. Your hands, like your saddle or your rifle stock, are simply practical objects that need oiling now and again. Nothing sissy about it.

Since few men repair crankshafts or build docks with their faces, the male had no need for a facial moisturizer. Indeed, they are hazy on the concept. Ed asked me if he should use my Nivea Creme on his face. “That’s hand lotion,” I said. To a woman, this is like, I don’t know, shampooing with dishwashing soap, which I have seen a man do, yes I have.

“You can’t use hand lotion on your face?” Ed looked flummoxed. I explained that while hand lotion is for dryness and chapping, facial moisturizer is for softening and reducing fine lines. He pointed to the parentheses on either side of his mouth. “Will it get rid of these?”

Those aren’t fine lines, I told him; those are deep grooves. There’s a fine line between explaining and insulting, and I had just reduced it. Ed stomped from the room, though the drama of his exit was marred somewhat by his having to rush about and paw through his affairs for his cell phone, wallet, car keys, sunglasses, and ChapStick.

Today’s men badly need purses, but here they’re resisting the urban trend toward girlification. Like many a modern male, Ed has taken to wearing his camera and cell phone on his belt. The belt has become a sort of contemporary holster, blending practicality and frontier masculinity. Hold it right there, pardner, I’ve got a call coming in.

Eventually, Ed left the room. He walked out the door with a wide, confident stride, a manly swagger that said, I’m gonna go mend some barbed wire. Maybe fix a crankshaft with my face. And when I get back, woman, you best have my exfoliant ready.