Mandatory medical masks leave no room for individual style

Angela Merkel wears a white face mask when she announces the latest coronavirus safety measures she has agreed with Germany's 16 state premiers, who sport the same masks. 

These medical masks, known as Filtering Face Pieces, or FFP2, are effective but look as bland as their name sounds. They've become ubiquitous in Germany since they were made compulsory in shops, on public transport and at many workplaces in January. Alternatively, you can wear light blue surgical masks.

 Without this piece of fabric, you're going nowhere.

Individualist days are over

The coronavirus pandemic is very serious, and masks are rightfully mandatory, please do not get me wrong. But before medical masks became compulsory, our face coverings were just so much more colorful and individualistic.

In March 2020, many Germans began sewing their own masks — because medical masks, or regular ones for that matter, were not yet widely available. Many got creative, making their own, or buying them from others. Necessity is the mother of invention, after all.

Within a matter of weeks, Germany had become a nation of mask-clad individualists. Cotton and polyester face coverings — in a plethora of colors and designs — began popping up. Some were sporting plastic face shields, too.

It was a pretty sight, with some masks adorned with check patterns or hearts, or more unusual, sporting shark tooth designs or tongues and lips as well as moustaches. Overall, the masks allowed us to make a statement and express our individuality. It helped bring us together, even though we were socially distancing.

I remember my very first mouth-and-nose covering, as it was officially called. Unfortunately, it was not very colorful, with a simple piece of string to tie around my head. But it did pique people's interest.

Asked to swap masks

That's because it was adorned by musical notes, and a treble clef. Turning the mask inside out revealed piano keys. And every day — literally every day — strangers would talk to me about my musical mask. I bought it in a piano shop for €10 ($12).

Once, a supermarket cashier told me she would love such a mask for her husband who plays the piano. And one time, waiting for a train, a young woman offered to swap masks with me, telling me "let's swap masks, I'm a music teacher."

Now, however, with medical masks mandatory, I can no longer wear my beloved and widely admired music-themed face covering. Instead, it rests on a delicate iron sculpture in my home that somewhat resembles a heron.

It is perched on my light brown sideboard in the hallway, reminding me to take my mask with me when leaving my home. Sometimes I get sad, seeing it uselessly draped over the sculpture. Alas, I have been unfaithful to this beauty. For months, I have been wearing only my bland FFP2 masks.

Medical uniformity

These days, I encounter countless FFP2 masks, whereever I go. Be that at the market buying vegetables, at the drug store, or at fast-food joints. Her ugly sisters and brothers, the light blue surgical masks, are equally common.

Germany has transformed into a civilian army of mask-wearers, following whichever coronavirus measures have been decreed. Sometimes, restrictions are lifted, other times, they're tightened. What remains unchanged is the ubiquity of identical masks.

Gone are the almost anarchic days when anyone could wear what they pleased. The current mask uniformity is bleak and boring. Just as some animals and plants risk extinction, so too are our beautifully individualist face masks at risk of dying out.

And as Germany's immunization drive remains sluggish and new virus variants keep pushing up infection rates, I'm on the lookout for a creative way to solve my personal mask dilemma.

Searching for designer masks

I have started searching the internet for colorful FFP2 masks. "This is my salvation," I think as I find what I'm after. But my euphoria soon fades to disappointment. The only options available are light pink, gray, blue and black. I keep searching, thinking there must be more. And then I do find dinosaur masks for kids, and one featuring little skulls — for cynics? I keep scrolling, hopeful that something more suitable might crop up.

But I'm out of luck. None of these masks are FFP2 face coverings. They are made from simple cotton and jersey fabric. I keep scouring the net, specifically searching for FFP2 masks with special designs.  There's a limited number of search results, with some manufacturers advertising their products in typically sensationalist tones, claiming their mask coverings offer an instant style makeover. But flowers and dogs don't appeal to me. So I guess I will stick to my bland, white medical masks.

Mistaken for a troublemaker?

Hang on, did I say mask covers? Why didn't I think of this! I can reactivate my beloved music-themed mask by just wearing it over my medical face covering.

But then my exuberance vanishes once more when I realize my fellow citizens may mistake me for a provocateur, or worse yet, a coronavirus denier as double-masking is not a thing in Europe. After all, they can't necessarily see I'm wearing a compulsory medical mask underneath.

I can practically feel their reproachful looks and can imagine them telling me I need to wear a FFP2 mask, or surgical face covering. And with that, my last bit of optimism dissipates.

I accept the fact that I must wear these dull, white face masks for the time being, just like Chancellor Merkel and everyone else.