In Defense of Plastic Surgery

Sexiness is deeper than skin

It’s 380 B.C.. You find yourself seated at Socrates’ dinner table, drinking wine and talking about love. His friend Aristophanes brings up a theory called the Ladder of Love, which he argues that the things our eyes find attractive ultimately lead us from the world of material to a wider, transcendent place that Plato, the author of the symposium you’re at, calls ‘the Good’ — a place of ultimate, perfect beauty.

Looking good, something we easily cast aside as trivial, merely sexual, or superficial compared to characters of the heart, is so much deeper than skin. Whether it’s a haircut, a Russian manicure, LASIK, leg lengthening surgery, or a butt lift, altering our physical appearance is no longer shallow according to Plato’s philosophy. Rather, these little alterations might actually be the foot of a ladder that climbs up to what we might find the loveliest in ourselves, if only just a small part. The physical world of object is connected to the world of ideas and virtues.

Sexiness can be profound. Striving for physical attractiveness is serious. A chin tuck or a hair transplant can make a universe of a difference in how someone feels, is perceived, and is treated. The thing is, as much as we like to say that we are logical, non-biased beings of reason, feelings always happen first when our senses are stimulated. We are emotional beings that think, more than we are thinking beings that feel. We can certainly suppress our feelings with logic but emotions tend to have a drive of their own; for example, you’re either attracted to someone or you’re not — the body does not lie, whether in the form of flushed cheeks, sweaty palms, or an animalistic reflex between the legs.

“What’s your type?”

Biology tells us that our perception of beauty is linked to our drive to have healthy offspring. Generally, symmetry and proportions are the main indicators of this: a certain complexion indicates the quality of one’s immune system, or the chubbiness of the face hints at fertility. Like feathers on tropical birds or manes on lions, our biological fitness is coded in the girth of a bicep, the roundness of hips, and the perkiness of breasts. But that’s where biology ends — it tells us beauty = healthy and ugly = sick, but it doesn’t explain why we prefer one healthy person over another. Why do some women fawn over Chris Evans but feel indifferent toward Cillian Murphy? Why do some men look for a Margot Robbie lookalike but feel less inclined to woo a Keira Knightley?

Taste — this is up to psychology.

Our taste makes us feel attracted to someone based on whether they’re a dog-person or a cat-person, the timbre of their voice, or the brand of watch they wear. In fact, this is the foundation of fashion, which would be a rather boring business if all it portrayed about a wearer was fertility. The difference between a woman who wears Max Mara and Versace is not biological but psychological. The first is about sophistication and modesty, the latter is a seductress with big hair and perfume so strong you smell her before you see her. Miu Miu is the girl next door, just like how YSL is the femme fatale.

Art historians try to unravel this mystery all the time: why might one revere Rubens and recoil at Dalí? Why might another admire Monet and dismiss Rothko? One German historian, in particular, proposed a rather psychoanalytical reason: in his essay, “Abstraction and Empathy,” Wilhelm Worringer stated that everyone grows up missing something; we form imbalances in our psyche because parents aren’t perfect.

Every creation occupies a psychological or moral dimension: we may describe a painting as bourgeois or folk, a piano sonata as masculine or feminine, or a blouse as classy or provocative. Our deficits determine our taste: what we lack influences what we prefer in these dimensions. For example, Worringer would say that cautious, stoic people are more drawn to art that’s dramatic to compensate for their inner sterility that comes from being overly risk-averse or rule-driven. Adults who prefer minimalism likely grew up in cluttered environments. The most aloof likely prefer the majesty of the Italian baroque, while the giddiest might go for French impressionism.

Whether it’s the arch of a cupid’s bow, the bobbing of an Adam’s apple, or the sharpness of collarbones, appearances are always more than just something we look at. While the Greek notion that tiny penises signified self-control and the pseudoscientific idea that bumps on the skull determined personality sound outdated today, the beauty-morality-psychology connection is something we have never stopped paying attention to. Attractiveness is never just about sex, like how a designer wool coat is never just about warmth.

As Kant said, “beauty is a sign of the morally good,” and as Stendhal said, “beauty is the promise of happiness,” aesthetics always point to something above and beyond.