What does it mean to be a feminist? How can they be recognized? BELLA RAPOPORT Journalist, Feminist Not all feminists are engaged in activism, and not all women should be engaged in this. Even activists do not have to keep watch day and night. Being a feminist means noticing

   "You can be a sensible person and think about the beauty of nails." Perhaps the Japanese are not familiar with the work of Pushkin, but they know how to take care of themselves. Although the cosmetic bag of the average man of the Land of the Rising Sun is smaller than that of his neighbor from South Korea, there are enough cosmetics for men in Japan.

Inga decided to show off the beauty-guiding arsenal that a regular Japanese store offers to men. The choice turned out to be quite wide: here you have BB cream, a mask for the face, and even stickers for the nipples.

In truth, among the Japanese there are courageous people in our understanding, and many, especially among high school students, athletes and representatives of working professions. But in general, it seems that they are slender. Small arms and legs, a thin neck, a quiet voice, fingers, soft toys, cute hobbies ... That's all. However, they do not believe that there is any problem with masculinity. On the contrary!

So let's take a walk together in the large men's department at the large Tokyu Hands store, where there are always a lot of tourists and locals and where the latest and most vital things are always sold.

The showcase is called: "Developing masculinity." Here's what is exhibited on it: wax for depilation, deodorizing wipes, a sponge for depilation of thin hairs on the hands and on the body, and something else interesting. And, of course, very important for a man!

By the way, I even bought a sponge, it was very interesting. He is like a soft thin sandpaper, you drive it clockwise and counterclockwise 10 times and in fact the hair disappears somewhere - but only thin and soft, like a fluff. Powerful manly hair does not take.

A huge showcase of all kinds of devices for cleaning the ears. And even a device for viewing what is happening in the ear. Yes, but how, on the other hand, to live without it?

A device that, with due diligence, can make the nose thinner.

Stickers to hide translucent nipples in sports or fashion clothes, in white shirts.

Probably there are men who do not want to use ladies' makeup, even if it is without a sweet smell and with a suitable action for them? The same thing, but in men's packaging, they are quite happy with it - this is how these lip balms are.

Hand cream.

And this is for advanced beauties. Mask sauna for oval face. Some would give advice and not take it off!

Roller massager for the face. Such even in women's magazines are as a presentation, and in stores like "all for 100 yen." I don’t know who can seriously operate such and hope for some kind of effect, but I know for sure that kids and pets love to play with them!

But this is a sensible thing - compression for the calf muscles. For women, there are a lot of light compression stockings and tights, but it is impossible to understand whether they are suitable for men. Namely, I see men for the first time.

BB cream for men's skin.

Male eyebrow pencil.

In general, the opportunities to support male status are inexhaustible in the Land of the Rising Sun.

Pasternak and Mandelstam fell in love with her, Anna Akhmatova was a close friend of her for 30 years. Maria Petrova did not even try to publish her poems during her lifetime. “I didn’t carry verses for the editors. It was clear without words that they were "not in that vein." And it never occurred to me or my friends to print their poems. One thing was important: write them. ” And her poems are upturning souls, always sincere and very feminine ...

A. Tarkovsky wrote about the poetry of M. Petrov:
   “At first glance, the language of the poetry of Mary Petrov is the usual literary Russian language. What makes him a miracle in the series of our great poetry is the ability for a special phrase that is free from any influences. "Her words light up one from another, neighboring, and their light has no end."

An amazing romance on her poems, music by Elena Frolova:

Do not seek, my confessions are rude,
   After all, they are to match my fate.
   My lips are dry
   Just thinking about you.

I pay you an affordable tribute -
   A life embodied in a prayer
   I'm breathing
   Just thinking about you.

It doesn’t matter that my garden was crushed by thunderstorms,
   That I live with myself in the struggle
   But my eyes are filled with tears
   Just thinking about you.

In her strikingly sincere, naked verses, there is not a shadow of guile or coquetry. Her poetry is ascetic, straightforward and extremely serious. Being a direct person, Maria Petrov spoke frankly.
   “Once,” writes A. Geleskul, a famous poet-translator, “in a conversation about someone’s verses - simple but confusing for the sake of interest, Maria Sergeyevna dropped:“ I still love to write directly. ”

Yes, I'm proud that I couldn’t
   Do not twist a single line,
   My deaf voice didn’t strain
   I did not extort the fate of another.

And she lived quite simply and modestly, not recognizing in her life any extra things that were so beloved by women trinkets. She did not follow fashion, was indifferent to outfits, her appearance did not have the slightest relation to elegance.

   “With her strict bangs and the ugly beauty of a slightly rude and at the same time not at all rustic, but strong-willed chased face - she lived separately from the so-called public life, remaining one of the mysteriously surviving strong characters”
   E. Evtushenko

And yet, not being a beauty, she easily won men's hearts.
   Mikhail Landman, poet and translator, recalls:

“... many fell in love with her. In addition to Mandelstam, Pasternak, Emanuel Kazakevich, Alexander Tvardovsky, and Pavel Antokolsky were fascinated by her at different times ... In a word, she was a woman who caused strong feelings among many people in contact with her ... And the reason for this was some elusive internal force , the charm of the personality - not only of the mind, but of some amazing childishness and severity, openness and restraint ... "

From the pen of Mandelstam, who is in love with Mary, a poem dedicated to her comes out, which has become one of the diamonds of lyric poetry of the 20th century.

Mistress of guilty eyes
   Little shoulders holder!
   Pacified male dangerous burrows,
   Drowned speech does not sound.

Fishes walk with fins
   Inflating the gills: on, take it!
   Their mouths sounding silently
   Feed the semi-bread of the flesh.

We are not red and gold fish,
   Our sisterly custom is as follows:
   The ribs are thin in a warm body
   And the vain wet shine of the pupils.

Poppy eyebrows labeled a dangerous path ...
   What am I, like a janissary, love
   This tiny, flying red
   This pathetic crescent of lips? ..

Don’t be angry, dear Turkish woman:
   I'm sewing in a deaf bag with you
   Your speeches are dark swallowing
   I'll get drunk for you with a crooked water.

You, Mary, help those perishing,
   It is necessary to warn death - to fall asleep.
   I'm standing at your doorstep.
   Go away, go away, still be.

Maria Petrov was born near Yaroslavl on March 26, 1908. Since childhood, distinguished by humanitarian inclinations, she entered the literary faculty of the university, after which she worked in the editorial office. He meets Akhmatova, Mandelstam ...

Since 1934, Maria Petrova became known in literary circles as an excellent master of poetic translation. Maria was very careful about the author’s text, she was a fan of every line.

In 1934 he meets his youth friend Vitaly Golovachev, a poet and pianist who returned from exile, in 1936 he marries him. But they were destined for a short happiness - soon Golovachev again sent to exile for five years. Mary remains with a four-month-old baby in her arms and in complete obscurity. And ahead is also war ...

No one will help, no one will help
   Your throws do not bother anyone;
   Find in yourself an incomprehensible power,
   Like a hidden gold mine ...

At the beginning of the war, Maria and her daughter Arina, as part of a small collective of writers, their wives and children, were evacuated to Tatarstan, to Chistopol. “It was a tragic and wonderful time. It was a time of extraordinary spiritual cohesion and unity. Everything separating has disappeared. It was a time of deep attention to each other. ”

She will never see her husband again - he will die in the camp in 1942. But Mary for a long time could not believe it and continued to wait for him.

A year after his death, she wrote:

Not now on the doorstep
   From grief as if delirious
   I'm the postman's feet
   With a prayer I will fall ...

Is it possible to be unhappy?
   I've been waiting for you all year
   Like a suicide bomber before execution
   Mercy awaits.
***

I have great sorrow
   And I can’t cry.
   I would get to the sea
   Fall on the shore.

Isn’t it tears, dear,
   Play over the edge?
   Share at least you with me
   Let me cry, give me!

Give it salty, give it green
   Golden water
   Blue sun calcined
   Hot of my misfortune.

I will go to the crossroads
   I’ll fall to my knees.
   Let the tears wash the grudge
   Satisfy the trouble!

About the life-giving miracle
   I beg you:
   Give me, dear people,
   Cry only once!

May my prayer be ridiculous
   If only someone brought
   I’m not asking for love, not for bread, -
   A handful of combustible tears.

I would have pressed them to my heart,
   for my blood to enter
   The burning sting
   From which it is light.

As if from grave guilt
   I can not raise my face ...
   Gimme somebody, oh gimme
   cry to the end

Before the cherished beginning,
   Until dawn in the meadow ...
   Too painful I was silent
   I can not anymore.
***
   I know that you will not come to me
   But believe me, I’m not sorry for you:
   From another grief unbearable,
   And I speak of you with him.

Honey, you owe me a debt.
   Remember what is left of you.
   You owe me - owe me! - I don't lie -
   Air, sun, blue sky,

The noise of the forest, river silence, -
   Everything that was with you before me.
   Bring back friends, fun, power,
   And then already - leave alone.

“Make me a date ...”. The late love of Maria Petrova

Make me a date
   in this world.
   Make me a date
   in the twentieth century.
   It’s hard for me to breathe without your love.
   Remember me, look around, call me!
   Make me a date
   in that south city.
   Where the winds drove
   along the mountains of the district.
   Where the sea captivated
   seven-color wave,
   Where the heart did not know
   unrequited love ...
   ... date me
   although for a moment,
   In the crowded square
   under the autumn storm.
   I find it difficult to breathe, I pray for salvation ...
   At least in my last hour of death
   Make me a date by the blue eyes.

This poem by Maria Petrov was very fond of Anna Akhmatova and called him "the best example of lyrics of recent years" ..

The blue eyes referred to in the poem are Maria Fadeev’s sunken eyes of Mary, who became her last, very strong love.

Having given up even her principles, she completely surrendered to the overwhelming feeling.
   An agonizing, forbidden love for a famous writer who was married ...
   In the spring of 1956, Fadeev’s life was tragically cut short; he shot himself. For Mary, his departure was an irreparable loss ...

I just wouldn’t hear, not see
   Know no one, nothing
   I do not think living offend
   But how dark and dead it is!
   Or I’m just tired of living,
   And wait, and love, not loving ...
   Everything is over. The world is gone
   Think! - you are gone.
***
   Tell me how to live for me, how to live
   On this shore?
   I can not forget you
   And I can’t remember.

I can not forget you,
   As long as I see the light
   I'll forget there maybe
   Or maybe not.

Or maybe soul soul
   Come in silence
   And I will rise without breathing
   Like an eternal dream in a dream.

On your lifeless shore
   Take me quick
   And the beauty of the inanimate
   Warm up life.

Only at the age of 60, Maria Petrov was able to see and hold her own book in her hands. Through the efforts of her Yerevan friends, the only lifetime collection of the poetess “The Distant Tree” was released in Armenia.

Maria Petrov died in the summer of 1979 at the age of 71 in Moscow.

Think, is that the thing
   That you did not prevail
   Not fully realized
   Ile didn’t come true,
   She rolled down a star
   Missing, without a crown?
   Do not believe that you are in the service of generous
   Scattered like dust in the wind.
   Not Dust - Flower Pollen!
   Not in vain, not in vain, everything passed.
   Not for nothing, not for nothing that you burned down,
   If your heart is warm
   Someone else's pain overcame
   An alien heart warmed up.
   Imagine - you are already gone
   No matter how it happened
   But your secret trail glows
   In other hearts ... Or it’s not enough -
   To leave the light in living hearts?

Love, oh love, you again, again!
   Watching your lips
   I will start repeating against desire
   such a strange name.
   Oh shame! I should take my eyes off
   from the flame of these eyes
   and - there wasn’t enough strength. Sorry heart
   thirst will torture us.
***
   For what is destroyed
   Is the faithful heart killed?
   Open to me: why is it
   Smokes a burnt sulfur?
   Why stinky filth
   Is he suffocating in anguish?
   Why is the heart true?
   How does hell in the underworld?
   Why is he desperate
   Midnight Vigil
In the dying wild
   In the last alienation? ..
   You give everything cheaply
   Than this heart dreamed
   You’ll go around him,
   Take a breath easy and fun ...
***
   You took both the light and the air from me
   And you want to know where I take strength
   To breathe, to see the sky in the stars
   To take work in the morning.
   Well, I’ll answer you, dear:
   Trampled Hearts Alive
   Despair suddenly fills with strength
   Despair without edge, without end.
***
   What kind of game is this? ..
   There are no words, no tears, no strength ...
   You can stop loving - I understand
   But come, say you fell out of love.
   What are these half-views for?
   I do not understand sudden tenderness.
   Rejecting, hugging is not necessary.
   Is it not insulting to myself?
   I always wonder at you as a miracle.
   Do not find this among people.
   I will not forget until death
   Your merciless pity ...
***
   What to do! My soul became impoverished
   And slipped away.
   I promised someone something
   And she deceived everyone.
   But I’m not on purpose, but it just so happened
   And life is running out.
   What to do! The soul was gone from me
   Walk free.
   And where does she wander? Who did you meet?
   What was surprised? ..
   And I don’t remember the beginning without her,
   The beginning has been forgotten.
***

I used to know that modern people have a very restless mind, but I did not think that this is a problem for all “white” people, that is, Western people. Moreover, I assumed that it was more about women, but it turned out that the "European" men this feature is developed no less.

At first, the Ayurvedic doctor mentioned this after testing, saying that, like all Europeans, the brain works too fast. But Asians (not by nationality, but by environment) have this, they say, not. I was surprised. I decided to think about it later.

See how simple it is. Situation - you need help. For example, you go out of the store and carry a very heavy bag of potatoes. You really need help. And nearby passes, for example, your neighbor. It would seem - ask him to help! But no!

War begins in our brains: to ask or not to ask? What will he think of me? What if he refuses?

Uncomfortable to somehow load. But to drag too hard. She’ll say she bought it herself and drag it. But in the lectures they say it is necessary to ask. Can try? Or is it better some other time?

And even if asked, the war does not end. If he agreed, you can break your brain on the topic of whether he wants something for this, why he agreed, maybe he has some kind of views on me and what other neighbors will think when they see it. And if he refused, then you can worry about how now he is looking into his eyes, and that he is not such a good person as he seemed.

Indians are getting easier. And not only them. Help is needed. Help me? Yes fine. No, good. And that’s all. And no complex designs, attempts to predict the thoughts and actions of other people, decency ratings and so on. Everything is simple.

This has always surprised me in India how simple and easy they are for help, and how easy it is to turn to them.

Take any other situation that could be solved easier, and see how our restless mind can make the simple complex.

If, for example, you like another person. I like what he does, how he does it, how he looks and so on. What is in your head? Should he talk about this? How appropriate and correct is this? What will he think? But will it not be puffed up? But will not laugh at me? What if he comes up with more than he really is? And if someone finds out that you like it? Etc. It would seem - like it - say that. The person will be pleased, and so will you. But no.

In India they do so. You walk along the street, and strangers tell you what a beautiful sari, how great you wound it, what beautiful children, what a smart mother you are. They don’t want to build any kind of relationship with you, they just go by and say what they feel. They said - and went on, and most likely they don’t remember you after five meters.

And if you do not like what the other person is doing to you? The key here is “with you,” we are talking specifically about situations where a person acts towards you in such a way that hurts or inconvenience you. For example, you have stepped on your foot and stand. You are seething internally and waiting for a person to wake up a conscience, because he specifically behaves this way! The further you go, the more you are able to come up with both a person and his attitude towards you. And a person simply does not know that your leg is there. Doesn't know, doesn't feel. But you already thought up something and were offended, angry.

And so in everything, in any of our relationships, the head is able to complicate everything, to invent what is not there, to escalate. Remember the movie where the heroine told her beloved that they would someday have a son, and then trouble would happen to him? Here is a classic example. The son has not even been born. Maybe a daughter will be born at all. Or nobody will be born with this man. And she is already worried about a man who is not yet.

Our restless mind can draw us something and then get scared of it. And instead of here and now we live in incomprehensible where. Not even in the past, because we and the past see through the prism of our restless mind. Not even in the future, because the mind paints us pictures most often those that will never come true (and thank God!).

We live in these fantasies of our inflamed, restless mind.

The girl, having barely met the guy, begins to be tormented by doubts whether she is narrowed or not, whether he likes her the same way or if he wants to use her, what their children will get, whether he should take his last name, where they grow old and how to name their grandchildren. She mentally married him already, there she managed to quarrel and disperse. And he just invited her to drink tea together.

I often recall the different stories that were told by girls who had healed their relationship with their parents. How, after many years, they were able to speak out their grievances and discovered that mothers and fathers did not know anything about their torment and did not want to hurt the children.

For example, in my childhood I had a terribly prickly hat that I hated. But mother asked her to put on, because it is very cold outside. And my mind then drew me different scenarios that my mother specifically tormented me. And a couple of years ago we remembered this hat, and it turned out that my mother did not know anything about my suffering, because I did not tell her. For her, it was just a warm hat and that’s it. We have been growing like this since childhood, we are taught this - and people, and the environment, and habits.

We are trying in every possible way to interpret any external signal in relation to ourselves. Although even the beloved by many, Freud said that "sometimes a banana is just a banana."

For example, if a girl from behind heard a whistle, then often she can interpret it as an appeal to an easily accessible woman, project it on herself, and as a result she will be offended, angry, and will begin to blame herself for what she put on today. But most likely, they do not whistle at all and with completely different thoughts. Similarly, when someone is laughing behind you, 90 percent of women will decide that they are laughing at her and will frantically begin to check if she forgot to wear anything, if her legs are crooked, and so on.

And with clothes the same strange situation. We don’t wear what we like, because suddenly someone will think something. We wear fashion, like everyone else, even if it is uncomfortable and does not like. And constantly at the mirror we evaluate ourselves - what does it look like? What signals does it send? Should I lose weight under this dress? Or vice versa, getting fat? Am I too old for such shorts?

Can you wear such a dress for a mother of three? What if people think I'm fat? What if I’m stepping somewhere on the hem of this skirt? What if I meet a girl in the same dress? What if other mothers on the court will condemn me for showing off? What if her husband doesn’t like it? It would seem - put on what you like, and you will feel different - that's all. But no.

Instead of a stimulus-reaction, we get a complex chain of stimulus - long throws of a restless mind - reaction - and again the torment of the mind.

We spend too much effort on this, trying to understand what they think of us, how they treat us.

We complicate our own lives, instead of just living, we think so much that there’s no power left for a life.

In a relationship, we endlessly fight against non-existent problems and suck problems from the finger. We really suffer from stupidity more than karma. We really look like crazy.

How many far-fetched problems in our lives! Due to the fact that we want to be good, like everyone else, ideal, we do not accept our past and are afraid of the future. We often cannot even understand what we want, where our desires are, and where others are.

Too restless mind, fed by TV, upbringing and rules of behavior, a bunch of useless knowledge that we don’t use, education that for the crust, but it ruined our nerves and filled my head with nonsense ...

In this place we have a lot to learn from the Hindus or the Balinese. Yes, we sometimes evaluate them as too simple and not knowing the decencies of people. But they do not worry about this topic and do not even think about what we think about them. They continue to live as they feel and remain themselves. And we should learn to calm our restless brains, and this will already bring us closer to a sense of happiness.

P.S. How are they joking - God gave you brains to think about what dress to wear, and you are about the fate of mankind. Do not do like this!

P.P.S. And please, relax your frowned forehead, under which a war of thoughts has already begun on the topic that it is impossible to live without brains, that they are all poor, that I’m doing all the fools here. Relax. The article is not about that.

Standards of masculine beauty are no less stringent than feminine. And if in the XVII century and the beginning of the XVIII century powdered handsome men were in fashion in wigs and with frills, then by the end of the XVIII and the beginning of the XIX century the byronic type came into fashion - a young man with letters and an open shirt collar. Meanwhile, brooding eyes were perfectly combined with dandy tailcoats and resembled whiskers. Ekaterina Astafieva will tell about how men of the beginning of the 19th century dressed up and looked after themselves and which of Pushkin's friends were considered the ideal of beauty.

Flaunting Pushkin

The 19th century brought with it a fashion for two seemingly incompatible styles. The military campaign of 1805 and the Patriotic War of 1812 made popular the image of the brave hussar, a sort of cuticle and womanizer. A perfect example of a handsome military man is Evgraf Davydov from a portrait of Kiprensky. Curled hair, thick sideburns, a mustache, a doloman embroidered in gold jacket, tight leggings, chikchirs - any young lady dreamed of such a fellow.

Evgraf Vladimirovich Davydov, portrait of Kiprensky, 1809

In contrast to the military, the dandy style came into fashion. Here, of course, we recall Eugene Onegin, who "is like dandy in London dressed." What did the Russian mod of English cut look like?

Tailcoat was universal clothing at the beginning of the 19th century.

First, he needed to put on a snow-white shirt with a starched standing collar, on top of which lay a tie - a scarf, which was tied with a beautiful knot or bow. The ends of the shawl were hidden under a vest, which could be single-breasted or double-breasted, striped or speckled. On the principle of "I’ll put on the best of everything at once," some dandies wore several vests. Legs clothed in tight leggings to the knees. On holidays, men dressed up in stockings and shoes, and high boots were attached to the bow every day. In the 30s, pants resembling modern ones appeared. The tailcoat assembled the costume into a single whole - it became a truly universal clothing, which was worn in a feast, and in the world, and in good people. Due to the high cost of special occasions, tailcoats were often rented. The outfit was completed by a cylinder-bolivar and a cane.

19th century dandy costume

Wash, haircut and wrap

The first European dandy is considered George Brammel. This sybarite and cuticle was called "handsome Brammel." In addition to fashion for shirts and frock coats, he has made popular new personal care items. Brammel regularly washed and rubbed his body with a coarse horsehair brush.

George Brammel is considered the first European dandy

George IV took over the new style from him, to whom all the remaining fashionistas of Europe rushed to imitate. Lord Byron, another famous dandy, a truly cult person for Russian aristocrats of the Pushkin era, called only 3 great people among his contemporaries: Napoleon, Brammel and himself.

George Brammel

About the beauty of nails

Especially popular with men during the time of Pushkin was nail care. “Combs, steel nail files, straight scissors, curves and brushes of thirty genera for both nails and teeth,” Evgeni Onegin possessed such an impressive arsenal.

Pushkin diligently grew a little finger nail

The poet himself had beautiful long nails, which can be seen, for example, in the portrait of Kiprensky. In this case, one nail on the little finger was longer than the rest. Pushkin was so afraid of breaking it that he often put on a special thimble before going to bed. This fashion for a long fingernail on the little finger was associated with the popularity of Masonic lodges in Russia, one of which Pushkin himself was not for long. There was no special meaning in a long nail - most likely, free masons simply recognized each other from it. And sometimes letters were printed when there was no knife at hand.

Portrait of Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin by Kiprensky, 1827

Perfume and lipstick in the men's arsenal

In the travel bag (or simply a cosmetic bag) of each self-respecting dandy, there was always a place for lipstick. Of course, it was not her lips that were painted at all, but “lipstick” hair, styling them with dashing curls and giving shine. At that time, lipsticks were often made from bear fat. Perfume was added to the styling product, which at the beginning of the 19th century had not yet been divided into male and female.

Perfume was not applied to the skin, but to gloves or a scarf

At the beginning of the century, perhaps the most popular fragrance was patchouli, which was associated with oriental exoticism. True, perfumes were not applied to the skin, but to gloves and scarves. Cologne Water, which Napoleon especially loved, was also in fashion.

Ivan Ivanovich Pushchin, Lyceum friend of Pushkin

As you can see, Eugene Onegin was the standard of this dandy. Among the lyceum friends of Pushkin, the nickname “dandy” was worn by Alexander Gorchakov, the future “Russian iron chancellor”. A close friend of the poet Ivan Pushchin was considered a real beauty. A brilliant cavalryman, a man of exceptional moral qualities - Pushchin was a favorite of women. The poet himself was never considered a handsome man, but many noted the originality of his facial features and the burning expression of his eyes.