It’s been a while – how are you?
I see you like unicorns now. And mermaids. If you’re not running around in the nude, of course. Isn’t it funny how much we change over the years?
We haven’t spent much time together recently, if any at all. I see you around of course – a winged eye here, a bright red lip there, and I smile and remember the days we used to spend together, hand in hand, brush on face.
Remember my winged liner before the days of YouTube, stencils, and spoon hacks? Or that time I used to coordinate you with my skirts? Or what about that time in Australia where I struggled to find you in the right shade because my skin was too pale?
I’ll never forget my old dressing table with pots of pigment all lined up in a row, fairy lights adoring my mirror, and my brushes resting gracefully upon a vintage crystal vanity tray. I could sit at that table for hours, experimenting with you, testing new colours and combinations.
Ah, the good ol’ days.
It’s been months since we properly spent some time together though, hasn’t it? And we’ve only had a dalliance maybe once or twice in that time, whereas once I couldn’t leave the house without you. Once when we would play I’d feel beautiful, and powerful, and amazing…
These days though, I feel uncomfortable.
See, the past few times we’ve spent time together, sure there was a slight glow to my cheeks, a hint of colour on my lids, a tint upon my lips, and although I would hear how great a couple you and I were, I still felt… strange.
I was glowing on the outside, but on the inside I felt dull.
I no longer felt comfortable with our friendship, our relationship, and over the weekend I am sorry, but I moved most of your stuff out of the flat. Sure, I kept a red lipstick to remember the good days by, and a sole, lonely mascara, but the rest?
I could lie and say there was no room in the new bathroom cabinet, but we’ve known each other too long for lies and deceit.
Having you there, in my cabinet, didn’t bring me joy, didn’t make me feel excited like it used to. It made me feel tired, and worn out. However, when I looked at my skincare? The toning pads, exfoliating masks, and jars exclaiming synthetic snake venom or black caviar? These are what made me smile.
I’m sorry makeup, but I’ve found someone new.
They’re not better than you, they’re just... different.
Perhaps I’m getting old, or perhaps my priorities have changed? Perhaps I feel too pressured by the beauty industry to be a living canvas? Perhaps I envy too much those who are walking art, and feel my own skills lacking?
However, I feel in all honestly (and this letter is all about honesty) it’s simply because my skin looks better without you. I prefer to sleep in every morning than to dab you on my face, or draw sleek lines across my lids.
I am learning to accept my freckles and scars.
See, I’ve changed.
I've changed, and I’m sorry.
I still see you with your other friends, and smile at the joy you bring them, how beautiful you still are. I see your pots and palettes, and how each and every week you are innovating, expanding, and as always, bringing colour and joy to the world. I see how happy you make so many people and I am happy knowing you bring them the joy you once brought me.
But us? Who we used to be?
I’m sorry makeup, but it’s not you – it’s me.
xx Bry Jaimea
Ah, I love a good dramatic post!
So, I still do wear makeup every now and then, just not as obsessively as I used to and this essentially comes down to a lack of time: winged liner is just too much effort these days (I'd rather sleep in), and I am kinda envious of those who spend the time learning, perfecting and then applying such beautiful makeup.
So, it's not so much that I have great skin or don't love makeup anymore, I'm simply lazy.