Written by Sarah Baban
Do you ever wonder what happened to makeup? When did it go from this flashy, colourful art form to a mere few swatches of blush on your cheeks?
Evolution is a natural part of any lifecycle. Like all things, makeup has undergone tremendous change, trends and eras. One of the things so beautiful about makeup is its multifaceted nature: you can quite literally create and become anything with it. While I can acknowledge its versatility, there comes a point where change stops being evolutionary, and it regresses. I find that makeup as an outlet for personal expression has devolved in recent years. The post-Covid emergence of the ‘Clean Girl’ across social media has become a worldwide phenomenon, taking over all aspects of a woman’s routine. Nowadays, the majority (if not all) makeup brands cater to this style: flush blushes, skin tints, lip stains…all to achieve the ‘your skin but better’ look.
While the ‘Clean Girl’ aesthetic is certainly attractive and subtly advocates for ‘natural’ beauty, I cannot help but feel that the influx of this trend is a symptom of a wider problem in the post-Covid era: the death of personal identity. When comparing the ‘Clean Girl’ to the emo of the early 2010s or the drag of the late 2010s, one can only be overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. Maximalist makeup was in.
Early Generation Z kids remember getting home from school, opening YouTube on their tablets and being instantly greeted by the iconic make-up artists (MUA for short): James Charles, Nikki Tutorials, Jeffree Star…the list goes on. Experiencing MUA YouTube was a time to be alive. You could not go two minutes without seeing James Charles’ face plastered up with famous A-listers, such as Zendaya or Kim Kardashian.
The 2010s were Gen Z’s 1980s. Those days were characterised by boldness, eccentricity and individuality. From bright to dark, everything was encouraged. With nude lips and seductive smoky eyes in the early 2010s, to the glistening highlighter that blinded and almost-too-defined eyebrows in the late 2010s, we see the same ideas. There was a culture that saw the infinite possibilities in makeup, and sought to discover each and every one of them.
From indie sleaze to alt revival, the myriad of sub-cultures that dominated the 2010s provided the masses with an abundance of ideas. At the root of these trends was a heavy push for expressing your own identity: the makeup appliances were the tools that guided one to discover themselves. Like traditional art forms, makeup possesses the power to breathe an idea into life. Your face becomes the canvas in actualising what makes you feel confident, what makes you feel like you.
Just like the 1980s and 1990s, when one compares the 2010s to the 2020s, you notice a stark difference. Those same makeup influencers no longer have the same chokehold that they used to. Eccentric makeup palettes no longer exist. Makeup has seemingly diminished from multicoloured palettes into… 9 shades of palatable brown.
When did we become so scared of openly expressing ourselves? When did makeup become a shell of its former self, accruing to a mere few swatches of tinted colour (barely showing up on the skin, might I add) charged at extortionate prices?
A perfect illustration of makeup’s deterioration is through the evolution – or devolution – of lipstick. Introduced in the early 20th century, a flash of red in bullet packaging once embodied boldness and allure. It allowed one to freely and openly express themselves to the world. A powerful statement was made from simply colouring your lips with a bright, glaring stain. You disassociated yourself from the crowd, and made your identity known. Such statements have now been diminished and repackaged into countless different forms: lip glosses, stains, and oils. Housed in a plastic, see-through package with barely any tint, they’re light. Removable. Subtle.
Perhaps this is a clever distraction. The abundance of choices the modern-day consumer is presented with makes one forget the boldness of a lipstick: genuine expression. For years lipstick has been ousted from the status quo. The hold that brands, like MAC or Revlon once had on the lip market have declined at a shocking rate. Its complete ostracisation from the makeup community, suggests traditional bullet lipstick is considered an outdated form of beautification.
A decade ago, being ‘bold’ or ‘extra’ was the expectation. Distinguishing yourself from the masses is, ironically, what made you fit in. Nowadays we no longer wear lipstick because it is too bold, but when did bold become a negative thing? Boldness no longer holds the approval of the masses. It is looked down upon. To be full beat or have glued down invisible eyebrows is to render yourself outcast, to make yourself stand out from the zeitgeist of ‘Clean Girl’. While distinguishing from the masses can be an act of ‘boldness’, the newfound negative connotations associated with being ‘extra’ or ‘bold’ reflect poorly on the current climate towards self-expression and identity culture. Expressing your personal identity is no longer the norm: conformity and palatability is. In order to achieve authenticity, you must physically separate yourself from the rest, at the expense of society’s acceptance.
However, I understand the argument that lip gloss is a form of lipstick and that there should be no distinction between the two – it’s simply just the trend of the 2020s. On the surface, lip gloss or lipstick are both one and the same: they are both designed to beautify your exterior, albeit in different levels of shine. When one examines how an entire culture has shifted towards a style of ‘no-makeup-makeup’ and the increasing modesty in pigment, the situation is more complex than one might initially realise. The merging of cleanliness with a beauty standard stunts any room for genuine self-expression. When there is nothing but a sheer flush on your cheek, what can it truly represent?
For some, it may be freeing oneself from the shackles of a beauty standard that prevents them from having confidence in themselves. However, is this honestly the case for all?
We have entered an age where personal identity is dictated by a trend. This has unfortunately stripped us of any power to differentiate ourselves from the crowd. Society has seemingly regressed back into one body with a baseline purpose to consume; not to independently strive to figure out themselves, separate from society’s suffocating grip. Part of me cannot help but feel that the rise in right-wing support and conservatism has reduced makeup’s power as an outlet for identity. The increasing accessibility of maxi skirts, long-sleeved tops and the like…Modesty is in! ‘Clean Girl’ is perhaps another outlet of this growing ‘modesty culture’, but at what expense?
Many critiques of society are rooted in the idea that social media must be removed, for us to truly progress. Irrespective of your personal stances on social media (I myself am extremely critical of the harm it inflicts on individuals and society as a whole), we cannot deny that social media and the digitised third space has expanded our outlet. It has given us an infinite number of paths to choose from: different styles, aesthetics, and inspirations.
Makeup, with the right tools, has the potential to be a genuine art form. If anything, the digital age has given us greater means to venture on our journey of self-discovery. The countless MUAs that defined the 2010s teach us that. YouTube has a catalogue of millions, if not billions, of content to help actualise the self – makeup is just one of those many outlets. Its constant relevance to the site proves how much of a vital source of identity it is. In an age of ‘Clean Girl’ and modesty-culture, it takes courage to be bold. Makeup has gone from a vehicle for authenticity to an arbiter of what’s acceptable, and this shift over the last decade sets a dangerous precedent. Is this modesty with intention, or a retreat from ourselves?
