Expat Observations: UV Masks and Facekinis
The facekini in all it’s glory. Protects from UV rays, jellyfish, and insects.
It shouldn’t be surprising that facekinis were created in Qingdao, a city on China’s east coast famed for beer and beaches. And if you know anything about modern Chinese culture and the preference for pale skin, the widespread use of this fashion item was inevitable.
What is a facekini?
It’s a face covering women (it is also possible that men use this as well) use to protect their skin from the sun’s UV rays at the beach with their friends and family. To say it is a more fashionable version of a balaclava may be unfair to the balaclava, which, in my opinion, at least serves some necessary utility, even if for more nefarious means. Yes, wearers of said beach fashion could use sunblock or hats or, really, anything else, but why not add another item with which you can make a fashion statement?
I haven’t seen a facekini in the wild yet. We should have gone to Qingdao, the beach item’s ancestral homeland, but my wife came down with Covid the week before our trip.
But, dear readers, do not fret. We are exposed, almost daily, to the facekini’s not-so-distant cousin, the ‘UV mask.’ I have no other clever word for it because I’ve only been bothered enough to note its existence and vexing qualities.
Do fret, though, because it looks exactly how you would imagine. It reminds me of one of those at-home exfoliating masks fashionable folks like to wear before bed. These things are form-fitting around the face and give the impression the wearer decided to go as Jason for Halloween and is just taking their costume out for a dress rehearsal.
There’s nothing more shocking than walking into the local nut store (yes, there is a local nut store) only to be greeted by a timid ‘ni-hao’ from behind one of these pastel face coverings. Am I speaking to the man in the iron mask or the lovely woman who sold me Turkish pistachios during my first week here? I don’t know because that mask makes it impossible to sort out what’s what.
Is she smiling? The only thing I see is a tiny rectangular-shaped opening where a mouth would usually be. What’s she saying after ‘ni-hao’? I don’t know either, not just because I can’t speak Mandarin but that tiny opening nullifies effective communication.
To be clear, we have only lived here for the last three months, during which the city broke decades old temperature records. These facekinis and UV masks are typically a summer only sort of thing.
But who the fuck cares? Why does my discomfort matter here? I’m one of 22 million plus people in this old imperial capital. And if these folks want to wear a form-fitting cloth mask that makes their face sweat and elicits feelings of claustrophobia just by observing someone wear it, then so be it. Besides, in 30 years, when they’re enjoying retirement with nearly flawless skin, and I’m putzing around god knows where with skin that looks like a dried palm date, who’ll be the one laughing then.
It won’t be me.