People in Europe are on average much more attractive than in the US. Well-groomed, fashionable, not overweight. Just comparing my T ride to the airport in Boston to walking around Munich today was eye-opening. Just saying, there are a lot of attractive German women……

An ex-boyfriend wrote this gem in a letter to me from Germany shortly after I dumped him. I usually tried read his letters with the passive eye of a long-suffering but loyal friend, but when a man who once wore orange sneakers with a tuxedo attempted to compare me unfavorably with my German counterparts, he managed to finally catch my attention. Even more irritating than the personal dig was his assumption that the difference in appearance between women on the T in Boston, and those promenading around downtown Munich was a consequence of nationality.

I could imagine what he was seeing in Munich, likely very similar to what I have seen in Paris and Moscow. Women my age in Paris seem to favor strappy sandals and strapless dresses, and in Moscow enormous fur coats and high-heeled boots are all the rage.  The glitz and glamour of these European metropolises is evident in the way women carry themselves as they walk along the Champs-Elysees, or across Red Square. Boston is no different. The maze of streets fanning out from Downtown Crossing and anchored by the Prudential Center to the west and the Charles River to the North is populated by a female elite just as chic as their European sisters.

But in any city, I enter another world as I push through the turnstile into a metro station. Here you see all the women: those who live their city lives behind the scenes, who staff the expensive boutiques, and scoop gelato or мороженое. They carry bags of groceries or chunky toddlers. Their customers don’t shun public transport either, but here they appear somehow diminished, slouching into their seats with sighs of relief, and perhaps slipping feet out of high heels to furtively rub their toes. Here the similarities overpower the divide between these two groups of women. At the end of the day, we are all worn-out and vaguely, habitually frustrated.

To be taken seriously in shops, restaurants and offices, those who can do so don a disguise and hide behind lipstick and hairspray. It’s more than good grooming and exercise; the culture of the city demands both fashion and glamour from the young female elite almost regardless of occupation. The ‘beauty premium’ is a name given by economists to the improved labor market outcomes of people considered attractive. It doesn’t only affect women, but expectations of women have evolved far beyond the baseline standard of appearance for men in identical positions. Women grasp at the beauty premium to gain a little bit more of an advantage in a world where women still do not compete with men on a level playing field.

It’s exhausting, frustrating and expensive. Women who have the money shell out about $15,000 in their lifetime on makeup alone, and this pales in comparison to expenditures on clothing, purses and shoes. Trips to the salon for complex haircuts and coloring gobble up both hours and dollars. It’s a luxury to be able to take time out of your schedule to utilize a gym membership, and healthy, good-quality food is pricy and time-consuming to prepare. The ‘pink tax’ inflates these expenses even further: women who choose to buy into the beauty premium get charged on average 13% more for products marketed to them than for identical items marketed to men. All over the world a subset of the women are left behind, lacking the resources for a cosmopolitan woman’s costume. In Boston, where half the population lives on less than $35,000 a year, it’s a big subset.

But anywhere in the world, the women on the subway are different creatures from the women strolling between the high rise buildings. When we go underground, those of us who have the resources to buy the appearance of a successful women let the image fade. Suddenly we are all the same again. As my ex-boyfriend observed, we are no longer well-groomed after the wind has disheveled our hair. We are no longer fashionable as we shed blazers and scarves in the heat of the bodies packed together in the train. We may not look or feel particularly fit after those doughnuts eaten to make up for missing lunch. Dismayed at the change, we look at the men who examine us as the metro carries us homeward. We close our eyes, and try to remember that we can do anything they can do, as long as we can figure out how to do it in high heels.