Full Disclosure: Let’s Face It 

As Connecticut slowly eases restrictions, I am happy to test the waters and get back to some semblance of living—even if it means that in order to leave my home I must cover my face like a botched plastic surgery victim. 

With an array of options, masking up doesn’t have to be boring. Susan Gelvin photo 

To break free from house arrest and re-enter society responsibly, I am armed with every sort of face covering that has to come to market. And since I am not one to shy away from accessorizing, my cache of enviable facewear is ready for serious action, and some mild interaction. 

Over the past few months, I have put my masks through rounds of stress tests and unusual scenarios to strike the perfect balance between safety and comfort. Gauging the perfect fit and feel is no easy feat, especially when you are not a fan of getting a steam facial with your own breath. Try cleaning the entire house with a mask on (to avoid a serious dust allergy), or attempt jogging through Waveny huffing your own exhaust. Been there, done that. The swampy climate underneath these essential “coverings” takes some getting used to, and I am not entirely sure it will ever feel right. 

After practicing with my PPE (personal paranoia equipment) for months, I am still struggling. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it is impossible to wear both a mask and a pair of sunglasses without rendering oneself fogged-in and under complete cloud cover. Shielding the nose, mouth and eyes is asking for serious trouble—and 100% humidity. My heart goes out to anyone who must wear sight-correcting eyewear and a face covering. I can’t imagine the constant frustration, but I guess we all adapt in our own way. 

Hiding behind my PPE, at first, seemed so odd, like impersonating a surgeon or dressing up as Hannibal Lector. However, it’s surprising how quickly we adjust. Now I am thrilled when I find a mask that fits “just so” and wear it about town with aplomb. My favorite spiffy cloth coverings were recently purchased at Wave on Elm Street. They have adjustable ear strap capabilities to keep the mask in situ, which is critical. There is nothing more irritating than trying to safely interact with someone whose mask has slid down their face—those unfortunate, useless coverings are called “quitters.” If you see a quitter, run in the opposite direction, or you’re toast. 

I correctly, and almost professionally (barring sunglasses), don my PPE when needed to both engage with other New Canaanites and also avoid being identified. 

Let’s face it, a mask also comes in handy when you look hellish from a long-term lack of self-care and from not visiting a salon in four months. 

The idea of going incognito takes the edge off. Plus, being somewhat anonymous in this very small town is kind of a relief, and a major time saver. If you don’t have the time (or patience) for idle chit-chat, a masked disguise is an easy way out. I mean, honestly, small talk is the absolute worst right now anyway: No one has anything to say. Nothing is new or exciting. Unless you found the cure for COVID or a speakeasy nail salon, I really don’t want to hear it. Let’s just hide behind our bandanas and keep moving.

There are some downsides to being on the down-low. It’s a bit of an inconvenience that the iPhone’s face recognition technology refuses to acknowledge the “under cover” me. And forget relying on voice recognition when I sound like a breathy Darth Vadar. Yes, worse things have happened than being locked out of one’s phone, I know. I really know. 

Try sneezing in your mask in a grocery store. With everyone on high alert and desperate to avoid “the infected,” one public ah-choo will part the Red Sea in an instant (and garner some death stares). Plus, innocently waterboarding yourself with the aerosols from a mask-suppressed sneeze is pretty disgusting (and even a little surprising for all involved). No one wins. 

Over the past four months, it is incredible how far we have come. Personally, I went from extreme paranoia and intense fear to finally seeing a glimmer of hope—a progression illustrated by the face coverings I have used over time. At first, I desperately clung to one trusty N-95 mask (leftover from a renovation project), which I used repeatedly until a takeout container of Dante’s meatballs spilled into it. The tomato-stained face respirator looked like crime scene evidence from a Hannibal Lector-style killing spree. Now, I have eased up and moved on to dainty cloth masks with fun, whimsical designs. While my new face coverings are more carefree, I do take care in wearing them—after all, it’s the right thing to do for now. 

But let’s face it, I can’t wait for the day that I can put my mask collection in a time capsule, along with rubber gloves and Clorox wipes, and bury them all for good.