Shakespeare's sonnet 130

 Elizabeth was the original beauty icon and so many have stepped into that role over the years. Today, we have beauty icons such as the Kardashians and victoria's secret models. Although so many aspire to look like these icons, there are constant discussions and campaigns on how 'ideal beauty' doesnt actually exist and how you should 'love the skin youre in' no matter what. Body image is a huge issue these days and although we don't like to admit it, most of us do feel pressured to look a certain way. 

The pressure to be beautiful definitely dates back to the Elizabethan era- at least we have a more diverse understanding of beauty these days! During Elizabeth's reign, there was a very specific criteria for beauty. Pale skin, fair hair, rouge cheeks and lips.

As we know, Shakespeare was a writer and poet during the Elizabethan era. I had to study this particular sonnet for my english GCSE and A level and i thought it was very appropriate for this unit. He is sort of poking fun at the conventional Elizabethan beauty, which I actually really liked as it proves that not everyone was totally besotted with pale skin and fair hair. The sonnet is about his 'mistress', but we will never know if it was his wife, a woman he admired from afar or maybe a lover. Nevertheless, he is reassuring her that even though she may not have red lips, red cheeks, white breasts or fair hair, he still sees her as beautiful. Beauty was very specifically defined during the Elizabethan era and there wasnt much room for playing around with it. I feel that in this sonnet, Shakespeare tries to make people realise that you don't have to follow the crowd to be beautiful.

'My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red, than her lips red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound: I grant I never saw a goddess go, My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
   And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
   As any she belied with false compare.'

Sonnet-  http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/130