Notice how since we all started wearing masks no-one’s been moaning about the burka? Just saying.
How’re we managing, anyway? With face-masks, that is...
Mercifully mine appear so far to have helped protect me from at least knowingly contracting COVID and - I hope - passing on the same but how can we know for sure. I may be an asymptomatic super-spreader - which almost sounds worthy of a cape, never mind a mask. Their hygiene is probably not optimum in my case: my flimsy cotton shields tend to languish between uses in a bag or coat pocket alongside car keys, headphones or other well-fingered life accessories so that for all they might be virus free they’re doubtless harbouring any number of anonymous bacteria and it’s a stretch between Milton douches. (Note to self).
But it’s amazing how quickly we adapt to new behaviours, isn’t it. Barely a year ago the idea of hiding our faces as we left home beneath anything less casual than a tossed scarf was alien. Before they became mandatory, early adopters of face-coverings were seen as eccentric, overly cautious, even vaguely hysterical. We tittered at them. We rolled our eyes. We hoped we wouldn't have to join them. Fast forward ten months ... and it’s a thing. We’re doing this. Once the exclusive domain of SARS-savvy Asian tourists and fit bicycle couriers now for most of us a mask is just another part of the routine: wallet - check keys - check phone - check personal protective equipment - aaaaand check.
It’s all gone a little bit Mad Max!
There are perks. I haven’t had to spend on blusher for a year and as a ruse for disguising nasolabial lines the face-mask’s an effective if rudimentary tool. And if one ever feels like travelling (well...in the very local sense, obviously) incognito then teamed with sunglasses and a low brimmed hat, a face-mask is guaranteed to ensure anonymity. (No - I haven’t done it. Not deliberately anyway). But beyond that, and it’s primary purpose of course, there’s little I can see to recommend this new appendage.
Wearing a mask fundamentally alters one’s perception. I’ve walked past neighbours in the street unable to recognise them beneath snug winter layers from the cheekbones up. I’ve sidled up to strangers in supermarkets mistaking them for someone I live with and engaged in small talk: “Oooh, lovely aubergines…” Well, not quite that bad. But bad enough. Turns out in peripheral vision at least one masked middle-aged man in a beanie hat looks much like the next.
And maybe it’s my age but I find that reduced sensations of taste and smell caused by strapping a buffer on to the front of one’s face impacts all senses. Or at least...my own sense, of those senses. I imagine I see less well - particularly in peripheral vision. Descending stairs with a face-mask on for example is a lot like walking in strong reading glasses - bloody awkward. And my hearing seems less acute from behind a mask with the effect that like a flailing monoglot in a foreign land, I raise my voice to compensate whenever required to speak to other wearers so that strained, amplified exchanges at supermarket checkouts have become the norm.
Then there’s the effect on oxygen intake, or perceived oxygen intake. A pulmonologist would tell you that behind a mask you’re still getting all the oxygen you need and even given the odd involuntary burp (we’ve all been there) your carbon dioxide levels aren’t rising, but the experience can feel very different. Even after the mild exertion of bagging up groceries I can't wait to tear a sheath from my face once out in the world and like a chain smoker let loose from deprivation inhale, deeply. Imagine, imagine, being a hospital doctor in all of this. Sensory multi-tasking from behind a mask. For others.
Negotiating a world short on non-verbal cues has become challenging too, and I suspect we glance less at strangers because of it. The space between us may have grown but the smiles have faded and anyway there's little to tell them apart from a snarl when they'e concealed. I find myself in instances Cheshire-cat grinning at people in the hope that a twinkle might get as far as my eyes and communicate clearly: I am benign.
Maybe once we’ve shed the masks the gloves will come off too and an involuntary reflex alongside deep breaths and gratitude will be that we all start smiling at strangers.
Maybe. :)
Image by Jessica Rockowitz
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