#commodificationofbeauty

Behind the Mask: Why I Wrote The Market's Painted Veil

​When I sat down to write The Market's Painted Veil, I wasn't just observing the world; I was feeling suffocated by it. I wanted to capture the terrifying reality of the "commodification of beauty"—this idea that our faces and bodies are no longer just parts of us, but products to be packaged, edited, and sold. Writing this was an act of rebellion against a system that constantly tells me, and everyone I know, that we are not enough until we are purchased, liked, or validated.

In the first stanza, I started with the image of the "Masks." When I wrote "Faces trimmed to fit the lies," I was thinking about the violence we inflict on ourselves—whether it's through literal surgery or just the digital surgery of a filter. I felt a deep sadness writing that line because "trimming" implies cutting away parts of who we are just to slot into a mold that society built. I used the bold text—borrowed eyes, worth complies—to mimic the loud, aggressive voice of advertising that shouts over our own quiet truths. I wanted the reader to feel that pressure to conform, the way I feel it every time I scroll through a feed of identical, perfect faces.

​The second stanza is where the anger really set in for me. I wrote "Beauty weighed like gold in scales" because I wanted to expose the transactional nature of modern love and admiration. It feels like we are meat in a market or gold in a pawn shop; our value fluctuates based on the current trend. When I wrote about "Dreams caged" and "false light," I was mourning the loss of genuine ambition. We aren't dreaming of connection anymore; we are dreaming of being "seen," which is a very different, colder thing. I felt a heavy heart realizing that the "wind's hard gales"—the harsh criticism of the public—can bruise a heart that is just trying to be loved.

​By the time I reached the third and fourth stanzas, the poem became about the loss of the soul. "Crowds chase their own mirrored ghost" is perhaps the line that haunts me the most. It came from a feeling of dissociation—looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger because I’ve spent so much time trying to be what the "world wants most." I wanted to express the exhaustion of that chase. The final lines, "Bodies bartered for applause" and "Souls decay beneath false laws," were my breaking point. I realized that the cost of this transaction isn't money; it’s us. We are rotting from the inside out, preserving the shell while the fruit spoils.