Ne Rodis' Krasivoy (Don't Be Born Pretty) is the name of one of Russia's hottest television series, which is of course shown in Ukraine as well. Grammatically speaking, the advice in the title is directed at a girl who supposedly will only suffer through life if endowed with good looks. Poor little wench!
What about Russian-speaking boys? Will they also be subject to sexual harassment at work and pestered by porn kings over the Internet if they happen to be cute? Maybe, because in Russian, both Alexanders and Alexandras; Tanyas and Toliks, Mashas and Mikhails get referred to as "krasivy" without any irony intended (but with just a slight change in the adjectival ending to indicate gender).
So for those of our readers who are always in search of a useful linguistic tip, better translate "krasivy" as "good looking" rather than "pretty". But even that won't keep things straight. As if purposely to make life difficult for native English speakers, "krasivy" can also be used to describe a thing: shirt, picture, car - you name it. Possibly only English "nice looking" covers it all.
Going back to English, we do on occasion use the word "pretty" to describe a boy, as in the phrase (wouldn't you know it?) "pretty boy" but the tone is often condescending if not insulting. Having said that, the values of the Anglo-Saxon world are ever in flux, and so someone like Brad Pitt may very well accept that he is no worse looking than his leading lady. It used to be that the word "handsome" was as pretty as English-speaking men got.
Nowadays, one can be referred to as "pretty" much anything: pretty handsome, pretty plain and even pretty ugly. Surely this has caused some confusion for the earnest Russian student of English.
But English isn't the only language endowed with irony. Having told a successful joke, showed off your billiard skills and flawlessly impersonated Frank Sinatra in a single evening, you might be called a "krasavets" or "beauty" by some from among the company. But don't let that necessarily lead you to believe that this admirer likes your looks. The same word could be sarcastically directed at someone who crashes your cozy party and knocks over all the drinks without apologizing.
A nasty work of a person can also be called an "urod", which literally means "a freak" without the drug-user context it has in English. But more often than not this word describes someone's character or lack thereof.
If it's an estimation of someone's beauty that you're looking for, Russian speakers are usually more tactful (depending on the company of course). Thus, if your weren't terribly taken by that blind date your friends arranged for you last Tuesday night at Mr. Snack, you don't have to call her an "urod(ka)". Instead you can say that she was "nekrasivaya", which translates to something like English "homely".
If she or something was a real stunner, you can use the word "prekrasny", which is listed in the dictionary as "beautiful" but almost transcends the mere physical attributes.
The best word to describe a very attractive female without being crude is to call her simply a "krasotka", which is the title of the movie Pretty Woman (with Richard Gere and Julia Roberts) in Russian.
During the course of this linguistic discourse, some of our readers may have noticed the recurring root "kras". This root is readily recognizable in the Russian word "krasny", which means the color "red".
For those old cold warriors among us, the association with communism immediately comes to mind: Better Dead than Red!, you're probably thinking. But hold your ideological horses a moment. Red Square was named as such centuries before Lenin ever climbed onto a soapbox. In early Slavic culture, the color red, independent of the word for beautiful, meant masculinity. White was the color of women. Alcohol consumption and a shortage of lady's iron tablets probably had something to do with this.
Nevertheless, "Red" or "krasny" was and still is inextricably connected to beauty. For example, modern Russian speaking women still "krasiatsya" or "put on their make up". Literally this means that they paint themselves. For those of our readers not impressed with the way a Russian speaking colleague applies her make up, this may not seem surprising. For others with season tickets to the annual Kyiv body art contest, this information might spark a lurid fantasy or two. But the fact of the matter is that Russian speakers don't make such conscious associations.
Suffice it to recall that in Russian one can even "Ukrasit" or "decorate" a Christmas Tree. Let's leave it at that for now.
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