Okay, deep breaths everyone. Thirty-eight. There, I said it. Two years shy of the big 4-0, and honestly, sometimes it feels like I’m teetering on the precipice of a whole new decade of… well, who knows what. But one thing I do know is that lately, a certain kind of longing has been bubbling up, a nostalgia for something that used to bring me so much joy: makeup.
Not just any makeup, mind you. I’m talking about the art of it. The creative expression, the editorial looks that used to flood my social media feeds (and, if I’m being honest, my own bathroom mirror). Remember those days? The vibrant eyeshadow palettes, the intricate liner wings, the sculpted cheekbones that looked like they’d been carved by Michelangelo himself? It was a feast for the eyes, a constant source of inspiration, and a way for so many talented artists to showcase their incredible skills.
And I used to be in it! Hours spent meticulously blending, highlighting, and contouring, transforming my own face into a canvas. I loved the process, the experimentation, the feeling of creating something beautiful and unique. My social media used to be a little gallery of my own makeup adventures.
But somewhere between the demands of life, the endless scroll of perfectly filtered faces, and, let’s be real, the sheer exhaustion of being a functioning adult (especially one who works at MAC Cosmetics, where the expectation for a polished look is, shall we say, present), that spark has… dimmed a little.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I’m surrounded by incredible products and talented artists every single day. But the irony is almost comical. I spend my days creating gorgeous looks on other people, guiding them through the latest trends and helping them find their perfect shades. And then I come home, look in the mirror, and the energy to pick up a brush feels… monumental.
The current obsession with “no makeup makeup” is, frankly, starting to wear me down. I get it. Natural beauty is wonderful. Embracing your skin is empowering. But sometimes, just sometimes, I miss the drama! I miss the bold lip, the smoky eye that tells a story, the playful pop of color that can instantly lift your mood.
My social media feed, once a vibrant tapestry of creativity, now feels dominated by the same few minimalist aesthetics. Let me explain, there are still talented artists out there, but the algorithm seems to favor a certain kind of understated perfection. And while that’s lovely, it doesn’t quite scratch that creative itch I have.
And here’s the kicker: I’m surrounded by the very tools I need to reignite that passion! My drawers are overflowing with pigments, brushes, and palettes that could create a masterpiece. But the thought of actually doing it… it feels like climbing a mountain after a marathon.
Maybe it’s the approaching milestone birthday. Maybe it’s just the cumulative effect of years of early mornings and late nights. Whatever it is, I find myself yearning for that creative outlet again. I miss the feeling of transforming myself, not to hide, but to express a different facet of my personality.
So, here’s my little plea to the universe (and maybe to myself): it’s okay to want more than just “natural.” It’s okay to crave the artistry and the fun of creative makeup. And maybe, just maybe, as I navigate these final years of my 30s, I can find a way to carve out a little time and energy to pick up those brushes again, not because I have to for work, but because I want to. Because that little spark of creative joy is still flickering within, and it deserves a little fuel to burn bright again.
Anyone else feeling this way? Let me know in the comments – maybe we can start a rebellion against the tyranny of tinted moisturizer! 😉
