Thinking About Getting Into: Makeup, Again
The waiting is the worst part. This is why, when I have plans that can justify a fake eyelash or a bright lip, I take as much time as possible beforehand sitting in front of my mirror, painstakingly blending my bronzer and eyeshadow, until before I know it, it's already time to leave. The act of applying my makeup seems to condense time.
Now, not a day goes by when my mind doesn't flicker to the threatening reality of climate change. The dread I feel lies dormant beneath my surface, until it bubbles up, sparked by one too many headlines on Twitter or a passing thought that causes it to erupt. Every day, it feels like I am Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia, knowing that the end is near and simply waiting for it to happen. So I've decided to spend more time putting together my face.
I think a lot about the the Middle Ages, or whenever, when people lived their lives preparing, knowing that the end of the world was surely just in sight, and how they therefore (theoretically) spent their time in prayer (and also in war and flagrant mistreatment of anyone who did not fit into their definition of right, but that's a whole different topic). I think that wetting a Q-tip in your mouth and using it to clean up the wing of your eyeliner is kind of a prayer in itself.
Like many others, my decision to acquire lime green eyeliner and the Anastasia Beverly Hills Subculture palette was also, admittedly inspired by HBO's Euphoria. The eclectic, experimental beauty on a show as dark as it is felt like a revelation to me. For the past year, I've hardly worn any makeup, just a standard concealer-bronzer-mascara-brow pencil deal, and the glamour and glitz on the show reminded me that nearly everything we do is performative anyway. You might as well get a little more theatrical.
Those scenes in movies when characters get so wrapped up in their emotions there's nothing they can do but get to the nearest bathroom and take a good hard look in the mirror to ground themselves used to seem campy to me. A bit overdone. But I've found solace in the glimmer of my glittery eyeshadow in the fluorescent lighting of a public bathroom when I've just read four straight headlines about how all is lost.
I grew up watching shows that featured beauty products that doubled as weapons—Sailor Moon, Totally Spies. I've always been enchanted by the thought that the trove of lipsticks that clatter in the bottom of my purse might get me out of some unpredictable situation. That maybe my compact mirror could save my life.
I know, by now, these things have no special powers—but they can still transform. My year of natural makeup went by quickly, uniformly. I found myself taking on routines that have made me tired and deeply uninspired. Now, I am waiting and waiting for something to happen. Maybe it will be the end of the world. Maybe it will be a change. Maybe, and most realistically, it will be a decision that I will have to make, a dedication that I stick to, the choice to jump off of the train I've been passively riding. I am experimenting, albeit on a microscopic level, with different ways of being.
I've chosen to listen to the scientists and do what I can, on an individual level, to stave off the deadline for human life on this planet. But I can't help but feel guilt for the glittery makeup that was already in my collection—you know, after all, that it's terrible for our waterways. I vote, always, and have made the climate my number one personal issue. I'm informed enough to realize that the type of change that is needed to keep the planet hospitable to human life is that which must be done on a large scale. It requires different heads of state than those who are already in power. And short of my votes, purchasing power, and protests—or, you know, a coup—so much of what I can do is simply wait.
The world as we know it has already ended and I am experimenting with different ways to apply liquid liner. I figure I might as well bide my time.
The previous send of this newsletter had a typo—please excuse :-)