It probably started with Lip Smackers.
I grew up right in the middle of the Limited Too revolution, an awkward girly girl beneath her zip-up hoodie and long cami from Aeropostale who couldn’t wait to blow babysitting money on purple and blue creamy eyeshadow from Claire’s regardless of the fact that something very similarly sketchy had given her pink eye just a few weeks before.
Life’s about risks, right? And excused absences with doctors’ notes?
Lip Smackers is the gateway drug, the first step to a fully beat face. I remember feeling gooooood with that slippery goop all over my lips, even though it was so super annoyingly sticky, if we’re being honest, and it made all your drinks taste weird because it would stick on the rims and your teeth were probably going to rot out immediately if it accidentally got off of your lips.
But we never talked about that. We 2000s girls put it all on the line for a little luscious shine.
Right around the time I started thinking about makeup, I have a vivid memory of being outside at recess in the fifth grade, after I had moved to my new school, and sitting on the curb with two of my friends. The three of us were rolling up our pant legs to inspect the hairy monstrosities underneath.
One of my friends had just been granted access to the land of smooth shins. I had never noticed her hairy legs before, because she was fair-skinned and her shade of brunette was lighter than mine and also because we were 11 years old. But, I did notice how proud she was to be all nice and shiny and hairless. And as I ran my hand over my own shins and the previously harmless thick, dark fuzz, I suddenly felt so dumb. I was obviously supposed to be worrying about this stuff, because that’s apparently what we were into now, and it hit me like a ton of bricks how unfair it was to have not only leg hair, but lots of it, because I am a Coletta and we are known for our good grades and our ability to clog shower drains.
I looked below the knees of my denim capri shorts from the Candies section of Kohl’s and thought: “What the BLEEP.”
I went home and nervously asked my mom if she could teach me how to shave my legs. I was ready to bring the “Lizzie McGuire” bra episode-level dramatics, my points all drawn out in my head (my best friend was doing it; to be fair the hair was pretty dark, I couldn’t stop noticing it now; I could do it all by myself so what’s the harm?). To my surprise, she said yes!
And, I know. The whole shaving thing, and beauty standards thing, is a societal expectation put onto young women from the patriarchal bullshit ideals that girls have to be cute, clean, pretty, nice. I understand that now and I respect your choice to let those pricklies grow, or to not spend hundreds of dollars some loose change on beauty products.
But in fifth grade it was a big-ass deal, an absolute victory in my quest to become at least averagely pretty. And, yes, I still shave my legs.* Definitely with less gusto and determination and did-I-forget-a-slice-on-the-knee. Definitely less in the winter. But I still do it, and it doesn’t bug me enough to not do it, so whatever.
All that to say, my beauty journey kicked off with my joining the Clean-Shaven Preteens Club, and then quickly parked firmly in front of a Claire’s.
I stocked up hard on lip gloss, Lip Smackers and beyond. All the sweet and sticky kind, the melts-in-your-backpack-don’t-tell-Mom kind. The three-for-one kind that’s easy to sneak into birthday gifts, Christmas stockings.
I don’t remember being a beauty trendsetter in any particular way among my middle school friend group. We all kind of started doing it together? One of us would wear something new, and that was permission for all of us to try it, because our parents knew we were Good Girls so they didn’t have to worry about us making disastrous decisions.** So: syrupy-sweet strawberry lip balm all over our Frappucino straws and glittery vanilla roller scents from Bath & Body Works and “holy bleep eye shadow?!” because it came in a set with lip gloss it was.
Lip gloss turned into being allowed to wear eye shadow on the reg, which turned into mascara, which turned into eyeliner.
Extremely vulnerable moment here: I didn’t actively do my eyebrows until college. COLLEGE, you guys.***
I didn’t get into skincare, like, TRUE skincare, until AFTER COLLEGE. By some miracle, I do not yet look like a crypt keeper? I guess basic-ass moisturizer and Irish Aspirin shots and being, like, 22 must be good for your skin.
I didn’t battle acne more than the standard birth controlled amount, so I hadn’t thought about extending my routine beyond “put on black eyeliner” and “wipe off black eyeliner” for the longest time.
Phew. Now that that ugly truth is out there, onto high school.
As a quiet girl who wanted a Scene-adjacent style, the cat-eye seemed like a thing I should be doing. And, also, I just liked cats, which I acknowledge is a very annoying excuse. Also also, a fun nerd fact about me is I am generally obsessed with Ancient Egypt (looking at you, Bastet temple at the Field Museum!), so.
My best friend Juliette started winging her eyeliner in high school. Always a cute little flick, perky little triangles on the edges of her eyelids, nothing too dramatic and nothing I could seem to make myself do, let alone SYMMETRICALLY.
Looking back, it was probably because, uh, I was using a big, thick, twist-up PENCIL like a DUMBASS because it’s IMPOSSIBLE to make those wings sharp when the TIP IS ROUNDED.
WOW.
So for years I rocked some kind of smudged version that ish winged up at the ends and at least evened out my lazy eyelid. Cleopatra would have been like, “Sure.”
My best friend Whitney went for a casual-cute look: eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara. My best friend Chelsea had beautiful lashes.
I don’t remember obsessing over makeup in high school, though. I remember obsessing over musicals? Over Harry Potter? Over trying to get good group pics in Macy’s when we shopped together at the mall? We all just did our beauty thing, personal styles that complemented each other and who we were at the time (unpressed nerds) and sometimes got more dramatic for homecomings, where we started sweating that shit off as soon as we heard “Peace up, A-town down.”
I took my low-maintenance but still arguably maintenanced makeup look with me to college, where my loan refund meant a Whole New World.****
So: more of the same shit, but it also meant I could experiment wildly, by which I mean I started wearing bold red lipstick every single day of my life?
I don’t remember the first time I wore it, or why exactly I decided to wear it seven days a week, other than being a white woman heavily under the influence of one Taylor Alison Swift. But at one point, I guess I swiped it on before going over to Juliette’s place to pregame, and then I just kept wearing it.
Thank god I got into red lipstick right as the long-wearing craze kicked off. Not to say I was immune to a little splotchy pigment every now and then, but, listen, the amount of times I wore a matte Maybelline lip to a house party and had to sip punch from a fucking cup without a straw and also shots don’t have straws… I should have had way more disastrous smudge stories to tell.
I wore it to class, I wore it to the bar, I wore it to meetings with my advisor and on days when I was just walking up a giant hill to go get coffee and come back. It had become a part of my personal style, I guess, and I just embraced it. At one point, I had about 15 go-to red lippies, ranging from ruby-toned to brick-toned to ones I bought literally just because it was called, “Kitten Heels.”
I wore it in the summer, and it miraculously didn’t sweat off my face. I wore it in the winter, and it miraculously didn’t make my lips look as cracked as the brick streets I was wobbling around on because, wow, I did not take moisturizing your lips seriously.*****
I kept the trend up throughout my college career, but the everyday-ness of it died shortly after because while I am a woman who commits, even I could understand that wearing siren red lipstick to your 4:30 a.m. Starbucks shift was a stupid idea. Plus, I was now regularly making out with someone. I still wore it on occasion, mostly to my fiancé’s shows, or Out on the Town, or on Christmas. I traded in (read: threw out) all my drugstore reds for the universal perfect red that is Uncensored Stunna Lip Paint by HRH Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty. Yes, it is that bitch. And yes it is $24 USD. More on this later.
“Winged” eyeliner was the first trend I tried, a red lip was the first statement I made, and Urban Decay’s Naked 2 palette was the first time I spent Way Too Much Money on makeup.
I blame, in part, my J-school friend, one-time roommate and eternal beauty icon, Kristen. When I met K-Spick (as she remains in my phone), she was on another level of makeup enlightenment. She knew her way around a Sephora basket, and could whip out a flawless smokey eye quicker than anyone I knew. To her it was probably no big deal, but to me and my three-step makeup routine (eyeshadow, eyeliner, red lipstick), she seemed much more advanced in her beauty glow-up than I was at 21, 22, 23. And she had a stash that, when fully revealed and laid out on her bedroom floor, glowed to me exactly like the suitcase moment at the end of “Pulp Fiction.”
Like, that was it. That was what I was supposed to have.
So, one night I went back to my apartment and, buzzed off Barefoot Moscato and rich off not knowing how loan refunds are supposed to work, ordered my first eyeshadow palette from Sephora dot com.
I did … not do well with the instructions and the blending and the whole thing. I tried, I did, sober and less so, but everything smudged and it took so much time and I did not have the right tools or the same guiltless feeling about buying them all after seeing the price tags.
For as much as I genuinely love makeup, and I genuinely love trying a skill and honing it until I have mastered it, I have never been one to get sucked into makeup tutorials, or to fawn over makeup influencers. It seems exhausting, so I keep up on the highlights (and highlighters) and that’s about it.
Along the way, I’ve learned some hard lessons.
1 Cool tones = no, nope, no thank you, keep that purple, nope.
2 Blush takes me to Clown Town, every time.
3 My face hates anything that isn’t Neutrogena’s makeup wipes?
4 Any mascara that costs more than $10 is hella messy.
5 Do not try to wing anything after (1) sip of coffee. Anything.
I do have a secret weapon, and that’s my 20-year old sister, Kayley. Though both my Leo sisters are babes in their own right, Kayley is the one who keeps us from being Olds. She keeps up on the trends so we don’t have to, unpacks her entire bag of just sample-sized serums onto the coffee table and patiently walks us through each one so we don’t have to hunt down an IG post for it.
I honestly talk makeup with my sisters more now than I ever did with my friends growing up or going out.
Kayley is in that sweet spot, too, of the new beauty revolution. The digital one, where everybody can share their tips and tricks and it’s not just wandering aimlessly in a Claire’s hoping you don’t get pink eye again. She was doing skincare at 15 before I was really devoting brain space to it at 25. She’s got flawless skin because she is a Young Adult, but also because she knows how to get it, and the information is endless and easily accessible, not just buried in long-ass articles in Seventeen.
At almost 30, I’ve got the Holly Coletta Lewk down to a 25-minute science. I’m a picky bitch who’s gotten more frugal with her money***** and who thrives in a successful routine.
I do a little water and washrag wipe down, exfoliate twice a week with First Aid Beauty pads or the Burt’s Bees pore cleanser Ryan and I, uh, both definitely knowingly willingly share, a little Thayer’s rose petal witch hazel toner (thanks, Kay). I’m off and on with serums, but like ones that generally help me keep it balanced and glowy, so right now I’m doing the one-two punch of Glossier’s Super Pure and Super Glow ($28 each and to be fair, I did say punch).
A (millennial pink) moment about Glossier.
There is validity in the fact that Glossier, with its branding and its color palettes, is white woman bait, cool girl catnip. That it attracts a certain kind of clientele who dates a certain kind of man (patient, understanding, willing to stand in the Insta-perfect spot by the “You Look Good” mirror stickers). That it is a little overrated, a whole lot of eye roll-worthy.
There’s also validity in Glossier as a Good Makeup Brand, because I’ve been satisfied with their stuff more than I’ve been disappointed. Boy Brow is too goopy, too messy. I didn’t care for their eyeliner and Lash Slick doesn’t give me enough drama. BUT. Balm Dotcom is indeed the bomb dot com (and at $12 a tube, a worthy investment). The first time I used Super Glow, I went to take a parking lot selfie (remember parking lot selfies?) at work (remember offices?) and was like, whoa, because I could super see the glow. And I swear you can see a swipe of Haloscope from the space station (do we have a space station, currently?).
So, yes. I will keep buying into Glossier’s #pink branding, and stock up on their free #pink pouches that work as airplane makeup bags for when I can go places on airplanes again. And I will neither confirm nor deny that the Melrose Ave store is a blush #pinkparadise. (It is.) And if Glossier isn’t for you or you think it’s just annoying, that’s fine, too.
Other skincare-isms: I’m new to retinol and testing my limits there. (29 years of living in a perma-state of Kind of Stressed Out is finally catching up to me.) I defaulted to Neutrogena’s Rapid Wrinkle Repair ($30, but is it magic?) because Neutrogena was there for me in my teen zit years, and so far so good. I use Mario Badescu’s glycolic eye cream ($18), which if you use it right can last a looong time. I follow up with a lightweight moisturizer — right now it’s a Belif Aqua Bomb mini, which I like, but it also has a full-size full price of $38, which I like not as much.
Then we get to werk.
Unpopular opinion, but I do my brows first, then my eyes before I do my foundation, because the eye work is the foundation, mkay.
After I tried Boy Brow, I got a sample of Benefit’s Gimme Brow. I liked the wand shape a lot more, and it was the opposite of goopy, because it didn’t goop enough. I did buy a full-size version ($24, woof) but it just doesn’t seem to be worth it for the apparent amount? Sephora samples saved the day again, though, because now I use Anastasia Beverly Hills’ Dipbrow gel and it is the perfect medium place. Also, at $18, it’s doable. I use L’Oreal Brow Stylist Definer to, uh, define them. It’s like $8 and thank cat gods because I’ve bought 100 of them.
I gave up on Urban Decay pretty early on, and have three core palettes I alternate between: Tarte’s In Bloom ($39, 100% worth it) and ABH’s Soft Glam and Sultry (both $42, but bought at different times so does it really count). Warm nudes, tans, browns, golden tones with a little shine in the inner eye corners and voila.
And now.
I can’t talk about mastering the ancient art of the winged eyeliner without talking about liquid eyeliner, the greatest creation known to (wo)man other than cold brew and the emdash—and Stila’s Stay All Day liquid eyeliner pen.
I don’t know what the hell possessed me to spend 22 of my grown woman dollars on eyeliner, but at some point I did, and the Stila eyeliner pen changed the game forever. This liquid thing was PIGMENTED. This Stila thing was SHARP. These wings could SLICE WALLS, PROBABLY. This shit was EXPENSIVE. I’ll kindly remind you I was, at one time, a barista about two months away from beginning to pay off the Satanic promise she’d made to Ohio University and Nelnet, so I used every drop in that Stila pen and then I tried some drugstore shit. I eventually made my way to NYX’s matte eyeliner ($7.50!!!!!!!) and I’ve been using it ever since.
It’s the holy grail. (The Holly Grail? Works on an Indiana Jones level, but I’m not religious, so.)
Over the last 10 years, I have nearly purrfected the cat eye. It is the signature look of mine and many, many other women so yes, I get it, I am not special. But I get a lot of compliments on my eyeliner, and as a Type 3 I love to collect compliments on a job well done, so I will be winging these babies until I’m 104.
Here are my tips:
1 “Pray.”
2 Or do whatever it is you do to make something good happen (like I said, not religious).
3 Just really, really hope your wrist and fingers feel like cooperating.
4 Remain calm when it proves impossible for your right eye to ever look as good as your left, because you are right-handed, bitch.
5 Remain calm do NOT cry if it’s just not working wtf, because tears and makeup remover will make this liquid stuff run more and that shit stings, remember from last time?
6 Check in no fewer than three mirrors to make sure the wings actually, yes, are so symmetrical that they could fly right off your face.
7 Did I mention “pray”?
8 Some people start from the bottom and angle, but I flick from the top, and round out the bottom.
9 Tbh, just wing it. (Lol.)
The liquid life is not for everyone. It can be hard to have the patience to build it up. It’s a skill, a muscle memory, which is why I have continued to wear cat-eye makeup every day of this global pandemic life.
It’s a lot of pressure to flick it, flick it good, or else literally get it everywhere and have to wipe it off. Sometimes it’s Too Much, sometimes it’s Too Little. Sometimes it looks Too Mod, other times it looks like Little Daggers.
Once I am feline fine about the eyeliner (sorry), it’s time for mascara.
I love mascara! But it is so hard to find the best one! I need lift and volume, and not for Ryan to remind me with “isn’t it such a pain when your lashes touch your glasses” that some people (men) are just Born With It. I currently use Maybelline’s Lash Sensational as my go-to, because at $7-ish, how could you not? I can also get in the mood for: Benefit’s Roller Lash, Milk’s Kush, Fenty’s Full Frontal and Too Faced’s Better Than Sex. Why is mascara so sexual? I should do more research on the history of makeup? Where will I find the time?
I haven’t worn foundation more than like, three days in the last six months or however long we’ve been living in this hellscape, but before then, I was slathering on the Fenty Pro Filt’r ($35…worth it).
The Fenty facts: I’m biased because, really, I just think Rihanna is Very Fucking Cool, but also, she brings it. The shade range is no joke, and it’s not even for me, a Light Skin with Warm Yellow Undertones. But when she said inclusive, she said ALL inclusive. It’s pricey, sure, but it’s also big! It’s meant to be full-coverage, which I don’t always need, so if you only build a little it can last a long time. It IS picky with primers, though, and weirdly the Fenty primer breaks me out? Should I tell Rihanna? It doesn’t like creamier primers, so Benefit’s POREfessional is a hell no unless you prefer your foundation to slide all over your face. Back when I took the time to prime, I used Too Faced’s Hangover, which at the “two margs, tacos and splitting chips & queso at the bougie Mexican place” price of $34, means that, combined, what I’m spending on just the face basics is …. nevermind.
Once foundation is on, I set with something easy, usually NYX mist. I don’t honestly set too much, especially in the summer or during times when we are trapped in our houses and no one has to see your face up close, really, except the man who has already said he’d marry you.
A fun thing I have been trying is to make my face look so shiny my team can see their reflections in it during our Teams meetings, and I have been doing this by alternating between Kiehl’s Glow Formula Skin Hydrator ($38, and kinda clumpy) and Glamglow’s Mega Illuminating Moisturizer ($49, oomf), which seem like unnecessary things to have been invented but I love the creaminess and the glow and everything else is terrible anyway please let me live.
Then I swipe on Haloscope for the astronauts ($22, but if you’re going to spend $22, do it here) and we’re good to … glow.
Before we had to cover our mouths with masks in public, I was on my 2938553th Burt’s Bees Sedona Sands Lip Crayon (number approximated but they’re under $10). It’s the perfect pink nude that I have literally been unable to find in any other lipstick brand that costs twice as much.
I wear a red lip way less now, hardly ever, but when I do, it’s Fenty’s Stunna Lip Paint. Keyword: PAINT. This shit is the real deal. This shit will last for literal days. It will survive your questionable decision to eat an everything bagel (?) after putting it on. It is literally the universal red. The packaging could probably work as a weapon, ladies, which I know because one time Emily went to a concert and got it taken away.
I love, love, love it.
I’m also into Fenty’s Mattemoiselle lipsticks ($18) —they’re less intense, but also a little wild-colored for me to want to buy multiple (Blue? Green??? What in the Elphaba?). The Slip Shine lipstick ($22) is more my speed, but not sure it will survive the Bagel Test. And Gloss Bomb ($19), obviously, brought me full circle back to lip smackin’.
I am currently engaged to a man who says nice things like, “You look pretty today” when I do not, and probably thinks things like “I threw out the small animal-sized clump of hair from the shower drain catcher thing (again) but it’s okay” when that shit is gross and also says well-meaning things like “you don’t need to wear makeup” when — okay. I don’t NEED to, but I WANT to.
Basic as it is, and as unexciting as my makeup preferences probably are to, uh, makeup artists—I loveee makeup. I love any excuse to add a new routine to my routine. I don’t wear it because I feel like I have to, I wear it because I just friggin’ want to. I read an article once about how makeup is a form of self care, and how the time the writer spent alone in her thoughts focused on putting on makeup was kind of like meditating. I’ve never meditated, but I feel like I get it. It’s like 25 minutes of quiet me time (but with chatty cats), and calming in that I do it every day, as a way to start my day and whatever that brings.
So I will continue to sit in the well-lit corner of my bedroom and happily put on makeup probably every day, even into the apocalypse.
And, no, I don’t want to hear it if you tallied up all the $$$ I listed, okay, just let me smack my lips in peace!
*Plug for Billie razors, not sponsoring this post, but $9 well spent for a razor and new blades every 3 months (Don’t worry, Lady Sasquatches, you can choose the frequency). (Also I got the blush-colored one, fucking obviously.)
**The combined amount of butterfly clips this clique used to own…
***Because I’m Italian a few generations back, I have more hair than any singular person could ever need in their entire life — and ye olde unibrow. Luckily, I got brave enough to shave that shit down the middle pretty early on, so I bet otherwise you’d never know. And also, this meant that my eyebrows were generally always full and never the tiny slivers that so many of you deeply regret. I didn’t start really caring about the arches or the shapes of them until I had plenty of time to care, post-grad.
****WHY DID YOU BUY 4 BODYCON SKIRTS FROM FOREVER 21 INSTEAD OF LITERALLY ANYTHING USEFUL OR SAVIIIIIIING ITTTT — me as the Ghost of College Debt Future
*****WEAR SOME CHAPSTICK ONCE IN A FUCKING WHILE IT COSTS LESS THAN A TEQUILA SHOT — me as the Ghost of Athens, Ohio Winters Past
******NO YOU DO NOT NEED THE $100 DRUNK ELEPHANT MINIS SET YOU HAVE TO PAY RENT A CAR PAYMENT AND STUDENT LOANS IN A 10-DAY WINDOW GREAT JOB SCHEDULING THAT. — me as the Ghost of Millennial Life Present
hi, i’m holly. 