Cosmetic misadventures

For a really long time, I didn’t like makeup. I was a misguided feminist of sorts: I felt that makeup implied that I wasn’t happy with the way I looked. And I like the way I look, sort of! Some cultures might deem me a hideous monster, but I think I look all right.

So the thing is, I am now deeply into makeup. While I may not always step out looking like newly minted money, I do try to make an effort. I know it’s just a cosmetic placebo, but I just get an instant boost of confidence with a quick swipe of color and some CC cream. (I actually feel bad there isn’t a male equivalent to this. I doubt shaving their scruff yields the same results.)

Putting on makeup, to me, speaks volumes about oneself. That bronzy pink blush could say, “I’m friendly… maybe too friendly” in the same way that vampy red lipstick says, “Go away. You do not want to know what’s going on in my uterus right now.”

Imagine saying all of that without uttering a word? Amazing.

I must warn you, though; it’s so addictive. My gateway drug into makeup junkie town was a tube of Revlon lipstick in a shade so dark that I made a little girl cry once. One thing led to another and I began to feel the desire—no, need—to pick up “just one more lipstick” until a well-meaning friend asked if I wanted to join Hoarders, Makeup Edition.

Personally, I can’t counsel anyone on how to be sensible about makeup. It really is a sinkhole of doom and gorgeous packaging. How can you not want to panic over limited edition items or spend hours searching for makeup tutorials on YouTube? You can’t. You just can’t.

But brave on, dear friend, because wearing makeup also sends a message about how you respect the people who see you in public, such as, “You are important to me, and I don’t want you to see the same bleary eyes that were staring back at me in the mirror when I woke up this morning. Even I got scared of that.”

I suppose I am making makeup sound so serious. And maybe it is: it develops a sense of self-worth because of the freedom of self-expression it allows. Don’t even get me started on the socio-political implications of makeup. If more people knew about Shu Uemura eyelash curlers, there would probably be less war—but don’t take my word for it.

But you know what, I won’t. Because the truth is, makeup is just really, really fun. And more importantly, it doesn’t actually divorce you from who you really are as a person.

Remember that part in The Devil Wears Prada where Andy Sachs gets this huge makeover? Yes she’s wearing Chanel, her hair was styled, and her eyebrows looked bangin’, but it was still Andy. She may have lost sight of who she was along the way, but makeup didn’t do that, she did. (And equal parts Miranda Priestly, I guess. That’s all.)

Perhaps you ought to stop judging yourself, thinking that you don’t appreciate your “God-given beauty” because you like makeup, or that boys won’t like you because you wear makeup.

The thing is, I don’t actually know that many women who step out of the house looking naturally good without any sort of grooming. And guys who say they like girls who don’t wear makeup? That’s hilarious—like they actually know what that looks like.

I don’t want to start an argument about feminism and popular perceptions of beauty, but think of it this way: our faces are our blank canvases, and you can be all modern art about it, leaving it totally free of any color, or be Caravaggio and contour the hell out of that thing to make yourself look like a really hot milkmaid.

Truth be told, the Good Lord did not prioritize flawless, contoured skin when he was creating the world. He was too busy with, like, making cheetahs and whatever. Cindy Crawford herself once said that even she doesn’t wake up looking like Cindy Crawford, which scares me because now I think she wakes up as Ru Paul minus the drag.

But what I’m trying to say is that we’re all actually pretty ugly or beautiful in a very natural way. Cosmetics just help emphasize what you like about yourself, and maybe tone down what you don’t. You don’t need it, but it’s certainly nice to have.

And regardless of how much I just waxed philosophical about makeup, I am not making this up—you are definitely just as beautiful naked. Facially, that is. Not the other type of naked. Don’t be gross.