or, How Doing My Makeup for 100 Days Changed My Life
If you were to describe my past self, you’d probably use a phrase like “not like other girls.” I never painted my nails or did my hair, was weirdly proud of not owning dresses, hated pop music (no substance!) and if I ever wore makeup, it was just a little mascara. I was a low-maintenance gal, the kind that could roll out of bed and be ready for class in 10 minutes. I never looked like I was “trying hard,” and really looked down on girls who looked like they’d put effort into their appearance.
I was also “one of the guys” and hung out in groups of mostly male friends. They were always cool, supportive and more sensitive than your archetypical “bro,” but they inadvertently confirmed my patriarchal suspicions: girls who focus on how they look are fake, vapid and insecure. I vividly remember a boyfriend of mine telling me he loved how “natural” I was for not wearing makeup. His previous girlfriend had worn a full face of makeup almost everyday, so I was proud to be the chill, fresh-faced upgrade.
He wasn’t the last man who praised my “low-maintenance.” I’m sure none of them meant to reinforce my own shitty ideas, I bet they even meant it as a compliment. But if anything I doubled down on trying to seem as effortless as possible, avoiding pink and sparkles and anything that might lead anyone to think I was like other girls, or worse, cared.
As I got older, I felt like there was something missing by only being friends with boys. I realized that they turned to me as the “voice for all women,” and I often felt pigeon-holed having to defend my whole gender. But as I made an effort to make more girl friends, I found myself sizing up every woman I met in terms of some internal hierarchy, pitting myself against them. Every girl was either more feminine, chiller, sexier, smarter, more successful than me, or I them. Sometimes, they wore makeup.
Once quarantine was announced, I decided it was an opportunity to try something new and teach myself how to do my makeup. I bought a cheap, colorful eyeshadow pallet and a couple of brushes during my last in-person trip to Target. I even posted about it on my Instagram story, introducing it as a 2 week quarantine challenge. As quarantine blurred into a never ending lockdown and my classes and work moved to online, there was no real incentive to stop doing my makeup every day. 2 weeks of looks turned into 100 Days of Makeup.
The responses were surprising - people were loving my shit! I started ordering more makeup online as friends sent me looks to recreate and product recommendations. I was swimming in creative energy with a new outlet, an adoring audience and a world of inspiration. I followed makeup artists. I started drawing up ideas. I was getting skilled at makeup as an art. I watched Euphoria, unlocking a whole new level of shimmery, hyper-femme bold looks to pull from. I began to work with glitter, stars, maximalism, layering. I felt confident leaving the house with a rainbow on my face. I embraced pink, pulling it into my expression through makeup and photoshoots and design. Suddenly, all these things I’d written off for so long made me feel empowered. Other women started to seem less like threats and more like allies, like people who understood me, people who were empowered too and ready to lift me up with them.
Around this time I dove into hyperpop, overstepping my old musical boundaries for artists I would have previously written off as “fluff” or “party music,” stuff that didn’t have meaning and was therefore “lesser.” This included a lot of female artists I hadn’t given any attention to before. Listening to 100 Gecs, Dorian Electra, Kim Petras, A. G. Cook and most importantly, Charli XCX, I felt like I unlocked a whole new definition of “good” music. Lyrics don’t have to be poetic or driven by some deep dark purpose, they can be really straightforward and maybe a little whimsical and still have deep meaning to me. They mostly make me feel elated, empowered, energetic and electric (although I did have a couple weeks where I would drive around listening to How I’m Feeling Now by Charli and just sob).
Being feminine is so fucking cool. There’s so much power in embracing everything that means. I love watching how other women express their femininity and I don’t feel threatened by it anymore, I feel inspired by it. I feel like there are endless possibilities for me to explore my femininity, deciding to express myself in new ways every day. I don’t feel the need to box myself in to self-imposed standards anymore (instead of “I never wear nail polish” vs. “I always have my nails painted,” I can paint my nails sometimes). I can like pink and dress up. I can wear the same black t-shirt and dress down. I want to feel powerful, I want to feel soft. I want to be young, I want to be mature. I wear dresses, I wear skirts, I wear jeans. I try really hard to look good, and sometimes I don’t try at all. And most importantly, sometimes I do my makeup.
