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Is it tragedy, or is it beauty? In our lives, we try to romanticise much of what we do and experience, with 'aesthetic' trips to vibrant manufactured supermarkets to self-proclaimed 'satisfying' laundry sessions, but what happens when suffering, and pain itself becomes fashionable?
As a society, we have long been told that pain is beauty, and beauty is pain, a belief that remains deeply embedded in aesthetic culture, with trends such as ‘byōjaku’ makeup gaining popularity in Japan. ‘Byōjaku’, translating to “sickly” or “delicate,” sees women attempting to achieve what is known as a ‘sickly-cute’ look by making their eyes appear sad and tired, their skin flushed as if feverish, and their complexion pale. It reinforces a longstanding association between femininity and fragility, suggesting that vulnerability heightens desirability and invites protection.
The aestheticisation of vulnerability and fragility is not solely the product of modern beauty standards; rather, it is deeply rooted in history. Long before the invention of Snapchat filters and curated trends, physical illness itself was once considered “the height of fashion.” In the nineteenth century, consumption, known today as tuberculosis, became one of the clearest examples of suffering and agony transformed into aesthetic spectacle.
During the Romantic period, which spanned roughly from 1798 to 1837, an artistic and intellectual movement swept across Europe, with poetry, painting, and music shaping its ideology of “emotion over reason.”
"Romanticism is precisely situated neither in choice of subject nor exact truth, but in the way of feeling."
- Charles Baudelaire
Yet, the period did not merely romanticise emotion and artistic expression; it also reshaped European beauty standards to mirror the perceived delicacy of “consumption,” which at the time was responsible for one in four deaths in England. The disease, a bacterial infection that primarily affects the lungs, carries a range of physical symptoms, including dramatic weight loss, fever, and fatigue. But why was tuberculosis regarded as poetic? Known historically as consumption, as though the body was being slowly consumed from within, the illness was marked by gradual decline. Its slow progression was interpreted as dramatic, and thus aligned with the tragic art that defined the era.
Furthermore, many at the time believed that consumption was more prevalent among creative and artistic individuals, attributing this to their supposedly “sensitive souls,” which were thought to make them more vulnerable to infection. John Keats famously died of the illness in 1821. His poetry, central to defining the Romantic period, explored themes of mortality, sacrifice, and human vulnerability in the face of nature. Intertwined with these tragic, romantic works was a man acutely aware that he was running out of time.
Lord Byron, credited as one of the greatest Romantic poets of all time, openly expressed his desire to succumb to consumption. He was once reported to have stared at his reflection in the mirror and said, “I should like, I think, to die of consumption,” believing it would make him appear more interesting and attractive. Furthermore, it could be suggested that he longed for such a death, as he, like many Romantics of the time, believed it would immortalise both him and his legacy.
But how was consumption physically characterised during this time? The infected individual was painfully thin, their body fatigued and weakened. Their skin was ghostly pale, with a rosy flush to the cheeks, lips, and under the eyes. This deathly appearance was perceived as almost pure and angelic. The trend was complicated, as some women reportedly hoped to come into contact with the infection, yet cosmetic attempts to replicate the same look were frowned upon, as makeup was associated with prostitution.
In 1849, while nursing her younger sister Anne, Charlotte Brontë, author of the literary classic 'Jane Eyre,' observed that although she recognised Anne’s suffering, consumption “[was] a flattering malady.” Her words capture the paradox of the era: a disease capable of immense suffering was simultaneously reframed as something beautiful. John Keats, who so famously romanticised the infection, himself acknowledged that it was “a death warrant” the first time he coughed up blood.
The so-called “beauty” of consumption is arguably at the heart of the Romantic era itself, with much of the art of the time revolving around themes of decline. Elizabeth Siddal, the muse for John Everett Millais’s painting Ophelia, exemplifies this aesthetic. Her pale face and flushed cheeks mirrored her own real-life deterioration while simultaneously embodying the tragic decline of Shakespeare’s character.
Ophelia by John Everett Millais, 1851-1852
From the pale tragic figures of the past, to the contemporary beauty standards which fetishises vulnerability and suffering, the cultural fascination with human fragility evolves, and becomes more intertwined with a desired physical appearance, and, maybe, societal understanding of agony. In the Romantic era, 'consumption' was a beauty immortalised in poetry, paintings and literature. It was considered a poetic and aesthetic trait of sensitivity, moral awareness and a trait of the tragic genius type.
And over a century later, these historical beauty standards persist in our society, evolving into trends like byōjaku and even “tired chic.” Across time, our definition of beauty may change, but the principle remains the same: physical vulnerability is often treated as a marker of attractiveness, while masking the true extent of internal pain and mortality. Consumption romanticised pale, flushed looks, yet remained blind to the suffering that accompanied it.
Beauty may seduce the eye and our own vanities, but it will never heal the body or defy mortality.
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