To make matters worse, my father, who is slightly shorter than my mother, was given a box to stand on to appear taller. You can’t have the head of the family being a head shorter than his wife, right?
“Notice he is taller than me in the photo,” my mother explained. “It’s a nice memory, but it isn’t real.”
This is precisely what the rest of us were thinking this week when we witnessed the most amusing and confusing royal scandal since Fergie had her toes sucked in Saint-Tropez.
Earlier this week, in an effort to counter theories about her whereabouts and well-being, the Princess of Wales posted a seemingly harmless Mother’s Day photo, which soon became A Very Big Deal.
Within 24 hours of the photograph’s release, global picture agencies confirmed it had been digitally manipulated, forcing Kate, rebranding as C, to jump on social media and admit defeat.
“Like many amateur photographs, I occasionally experiment with editing,” wrote C. “I wanted to express my apologies for any confusion about the family photograph we shared yesterday.”
Naturally, the internet melted down, but I couldn’t understand what the big deal was. Aside from the insane crowd who genuinely need proof of life from a person they don’t know, why is anyone shocked that family photos are built on lies?
For as long as we have posed for pictures, we have projected an image of ourselves that is an improved version of the truth. Whether photoshopping Princess Charlotte’s blurry sleeve or standing on a box to seem taller, the desperate pursuit of perfection is not new.
Our self-editing stretches way back to the early days of photography when, according to Angus Trumble, author of A Brief History of the Smile, poor dental health meant people kept their mouths shut and refused to smile. “They had lousy teeth if they had teeth at all, which militated against opening your mouth in social settings,” he told TIME Magazine.
The result? Generations of black-and-white family photos where everyone seems mad.
Now that I have a family of my own, I am totally in favour of airbrushing our special memories. I regularly close my eyes when photos are being taken, as if the very presence of a camera triggers a heaviness in my lids. For the most part, this isn’t an issue, but when we’re at a milestone event, say my child’s christening, it pays to have an app that can open those eyes.
Based on my son’s face, I fear he has inherited my inability to take a nice photo.
The point is that humans are inherently vain creatures. Thanks to technological advancements (shout out to Photoshop and Face Tune), it is little wonder that even a princess spends her evenings removing errant hairs from a photo of her otherwise flawless family.
Source Agencies
