There’s a new trend in women’s faces and it’s called real. Hollywood no longer wants faces that look unnatural, according to a story in the New York Times. Talent agents are advising their clients to avoid cosmetic surgery. Some directors are even saying no to obviously augmented breasts. Having a hard time finding believable faces in LA some casting directors are going to England and Australia. And get this - they especially appreciate older faces that look honestly mature.

Be still my pacemaker. This is good news, although I wouldn’t want to be a Hollywood hopeful swathed in bandages coming out of anesthesia and read that I could have saved a bundle and retained the family nose.

Yet it is encouraging when Hollywood, which sets an impossible beauty standard for actors as well as ordinary people, suddenly declares a newfound love for character lines.

They toy with us, these image makers. They say old is ugly and young is beautiful and skinny is even more beautiful. And foreheads shouldn’t move and necks should be long and chins firm. And then one day they yawn and say perfection is so boring.

And why should we non-movie stars care what someone in LA decrees is good box office? I guess it’s because as a culture we sometimes lapse into being vain and insecure and turn our attention from important things to wonder if life would be more fun if we looked like Julia Roberts.

This new Hollywood trend is akin to the fashion industry changing its mind every season, proclaiming that bell bottoms are back just as you’ve invested in new skinny jeans.

But this whimsical yearning by Hollywood for the new natural is more diabolical, it being a lot easier to alter hemlines than a profile.

Any trend toward natural obviously hasn’t been heard by those standing in line for the latest anti-aging cream, including one hotly advertised beauty product said to make eyelashes as lush as a cocker spaniel’s but which, in some cases, can cause permanently discolored eyelids and change blue eyes to brown.

When I was in my 20s I went to an eyelash salon in New York where someone applied individual long lashes over my own skimpy ones. I felt fabulous for about a week. And then my eyes started to itch and the new lashes all fell out, taking the old ones with them. Fortunately my lashes grew back, teaching me to be grateful for short stubbies and good mascara.

Lynn Redgrave didn’t look like a movie star and still did all right. An obituary for the British actress included an early description of her by critic Rex Reed. He wrote that she was “Treetop tall, all kneecaps, with hair that never seems to have met a stylist, a little round mouth invented for devouring hot fudge sundaes and a chubby figure that changes weight according to her mood.”

You can imagine Redgrave and her agent wincing when they read that, but considering her long, varied career I bet she came to enjoy her distinctive non-star looks.

There’s a lot to be said about a person who is more than another pretty face which is a good thing to remember when the image-makers change their mind again. And they probably will, declaring real was interesting but Barbie’s better.

Hollywood award shows are my guilty pleasure, a dip into the world of gossip and glitz, like reading People magazine at the hair salon.

I know much of the real world is suffering while we sit there celebrating people who have no worry keeping their homes (plural) and likely have good health care. And I know that those gorgeous dresses and stunning baubles are likely borrowed for the evening. And a lot of these perfect bodies include fake parts and are enhanced by hair extensions and spray-on tans plus a Botox booster for the night. But I still like looking at them.

The man in my house avoids Hollywood award shows. He likes movies, fine, and pays some attention to who is nominated for what. And it’s not like he didn’t notice when Al Pacino started dying his hair.

But he really can’t stand the hoopla. He calls them cringers - garish and embarrassing. He’d rather watch a ball game or “The Pianist” on DVD for the fifth time. I point out that the Oscars are a healthy diversion from the news shows we watch every night and I’d rather hear Alec Baldwin tell dumb jokes than some of those actors in Washington who keep mouthing the same rehearsed rant. I bet even Rachel Maddow sneaks a peek at the Oscars.

But you don’t want to sit alone and feel guilty about indulging in three hours of Hollywood jabber, which is why someone invented Oscar parties. Restaurants and bars throw Academy Award events, encouraging participants to dress like their favorite star. I prefer the at-home parties at a friend’s house which is kind of a combination Super Bowl party and book club meeting. Food, drink, people talking over each other and yelling back at the television.

You can count on someone to have done her research and to intelligently debate, with references, the artistic relevance of “Avatar” versus “The Hurt Locker.” I’m not as intellectual. To me, the choice is simple. I’d much rather mingle with blue people than watch soldiers explode.

And can we talk about which guy over 50 in a hit film - Alec or Jeff -showed the bigger bare beer belly?

Movie award shows bring America together. Liberals and conservatives. Old and young. We all have different tastes, but we all watch movies. For one night MSNBC and Fox News types tune into the same channel. We might never agree on off-shore oil drilling but we might find common ground in Meryl Streep.

Another reason I like film award shows is because I know the players. I feel like I’m part of the culture. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t happen with music award shows which make me ask “who are these people?”

Plus you never know when actors are going to depart from the teleprompter and say something political or roll their eyes over the competition or forget to thank their mothers. And act like, you know, real folk.

The guy who doesn’t like the Oscars objects to the crude jokes, the silly talk about fashion, the extravagant display of wealth and celebrity.

I could remind him that George Clooney helps raise money for Darfur.