High Glitz is a close-up and intimate look at America’s child beauty pageants, and in turn our society’s obsession with youth, beauty, fame, and fortune. Susan Anderson’s vibrant portraits of pageant contestants twist notions of sexuality and identity, with a new perspective on this uniquely American subculture.
“High Glitz” is a subgenre of child beauty pageants characterized by couture “glitz” costumes and a broad array of cosmetic preparations including, among other tricks of the trade: glamour makeup, elaborate hairstyles, and “flippers” (false front teeth veneers). Anderson’s stunning visuals are complimented by a “High Glitz Style Guide,” defining and providing examples of the following categories: Beauty/Formal Wear, Western Wear, Sportswear, and Swimwear, with a special section on hairstyles such as “the Barbie” and the “Up-do.”
Each year as many as 100,000 children under the age of 12 participate in U.S. child beauty pageants, and it has recently become a billion-dollar industry. Parents invest thousands of dollars on costumes and private coaches to give their children a competitive edge. Countless hours are spent by professional hair and makeup artists on each child in preparation for the competition. The girls are spray-tanned, made-up, and groomed to a glossy perfection. Anderson captures the results of this time-consuming transformation process in exquisite detail.
In seeing how our society’s values of beauty, glamour, and celebrity are reflected in the hopes and dreams of thousands of young girls, we come to see that these pageants are a reflection of American culture itself.
Absolutely fascinating topic but rather lackluster treatment. Anderson is a photographer; one of the jobs she's returned to time and time again is pageant photography. This is a world she's used to, if only as an outsider: $2,000 dresses for five-year-olds, hairstyles that take two hours to arrange, primping and posing and glitter. Glitz.
I would pretty happily read an in-depth investigation of child pageants. Scratch that—I would love to read an in-depth investigation of child pageants. It's such a weird pastime, one that is arguably more for the parents than it is for the child (Simon Doonan, a fashion designer who wrote the foreword, would disagree, but a bit more on him in a moment). I've never seen Toddlers in Tiaras (not likely to change, as I neither own nor desire a television), but I can understand the appeal of watching it for its excess and wtf-ery.
Anyway, High Glitz doesn't go there. Instead we get a couple of short essays (including the foreword and introduction) and then what amount to studio portraits of some very young girls dolled up to look much older than they are. (Their hair especially tends to be reminiscent of Barbie.) Some themes emerge: blonde, generally slim, often from the southern US. Young. There are five-year-olds dressed to look as though they have cleavage. Nine-year-olds who could pass for thirty.
The photos themselves are fascinating. Obviously an incredible amount of work and thought goes into creating these looks. But what's missing is what goes on behind the scenes. Doonan argues that pageants are flipping awesome for these little girls (despite the fact that he doesn't appear to have any kind of insider knowledge—just envy left over from childhood—and his pro-pageant arguments run along the lines of 'it's great exercise!' Really? Better than, say, after-school athletics?), but there's no evidence to suggest that's the case—or, for that matter, that it's not. No interviews with these girls. No interviews with their parents. No interviews with judges. No photographs of the girls being coached. No photographs of them being made up. No photographs of two-year-olds having temper tantrums because they're sick of sitting still. No photographs of girls laughing with friends they've made from having been on the pageant circuit for so long. No discussion of the way pageants are sometimes marketed as providing scholarships, despite costing hundreds of dollars to enter and/or thousands of dollars to prepare for.
I love the kid beauty pageant shows - Toddlers and Tiaras, Little Miss Perfect, Living Dolls, Painted Babies, etc. And this book is the perfect companion to those shows. I like it for pure entertainment - I think the moms are a little nuts, and it's not something I would subject my daughter to, but it's fascinating.
The photography in the book is awesome. You can see the true detail and work that goes into making these little girls "glitzy."
This book isn't for everyone, but if you are as fascinated by this subculture as I am, then I recommend it.
Style writer Simon Doonan’s foreword starts out High Glitz: The Extravagant World of Child Pageants. Doonan feels that beauty pageants geared for children are no more exploitative or harmful than cheerleading or little league. He writes that children learn endurance, losing gracefully, and social skills. It also gives them exercise and breaks from the tedium of childhood.
However, early on Doonan mentions he has never actually experienced the pageant world. Even if he had, undoubtedly child beauty pageants are a different experience for female children then for adult males. While Doonan paints an envious picture of pageant life from an outsider’s point of view, he still admits he can’t see contestants going on to the fame and glory for which their mothers aspire.
Interestingly enough, in his introduction for High Glitz, Robert Greene, another admitted outsider to the pageant world, chose to mention long suspected pedophile Lewis Carroll. Greene never mentions any outright connections to his, but instead he mentions Carroll because of his "appreciation" of young girls, and his observations of how they liked to dress up and be photographed. Greene’s point appears to be that pageants are healthy for little girls because dressing up gives them a sense of personal power and is an adequate form of play. Personally, I’ve seen too many cranky kids on episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras and Little Miss Perfect to believe Greene’s point, but he presents it in such a clear straightforward way, it very well could be believable.
Finally, we get to Susan Anderson’s book. Anderson, unlike Doonan and Greene, is very involved in the pageant world, as she has been photographing contestants for three years. Anderson writes in a journalistic style that gives the reader an inside look at this strange pocket of our culture, but unfortunately we don’t get to see very much. Anderson doesn’t write a lot, and instead, lets her photographs speak for her.
The photos are all of girls between the ages of a few months to thirteen years; all look more glamorous, more grown up, and more downright sexy than I did at my senior prom. Some of these girls still look precious, like elaborate child Madame Alexandra dolls, while some of them look eerie, like ageless collectible figurines symbolizing "true" beauty; all of the girls have a look of no longer being completely human. I also can’t help but notice how few children of color are featured.
The images are frightening: girls as young as three are making attempts at showing cleavage, endlessly exposing midriffs, and squeezing into super short skirts. What skeeves me out the most are the images of young girls holding stuffed animals, as their fancy dresses ride up around their waists. Many of these girls do look happy, but from watching many specials on this subject, I know many of these mothers pay money for coaching. I would have preferred to see quotes from the girls themselves about what they think of their clothes and situations, how they feel being dressed in ways, even as a teenager, I would never have been able to leave the house in. This coffee table book, unfortunately, does not shed much light on the pageant world for the genuinely curious.
After reading this book as a part of my analytical essay I found it was very helpful and it just shot ideas at me that helped me a lot. It was more documentary and information based which help me write out pieces of my essay.
I recommend this book to anyone that is interested in reading about child beauty pageants and the 'truth' behind all the glamour.
Oh, it's nonfiction all right. It's a bloody Amtrak-meets-carload-of-promgoers can't-look-away TRAGIC WRECK. Makes me feel physically ill - I can only take a few pages at a time - and yet I keep coming back to it. Mommy porn at its best. I mean worst. Or... best.
Este libro impacta con sus fotografías. Los textos no aportan ideas muy interesantes así que lo calificaría como un buen objeto para comenzar interminables reflexiones sobre esa decadencia white trash de la sociedad estadounidense.