September 9th, 2025 - A Makeup Journey Day

I remember the first time I wore makeup, a caked-on foundation that was three shades too dark for my skin and dark brown chunky block eyebrows over my blonde, undefined hair. My best friend and I had spent hours in her bathroom, giggling as we applied it, convinced we looked like grown-up movie stars, and to be honest, it was her idea. Some may say it was a bad influence, and looking back, I would agree. The foundation was so thick it felt like a second skin, which isn’t a surprise; it was a £5 Superdrug one, and I remember the distinct, slightly chalky scent of it, but it was still a fan favourite for about 3 years. I never used to wear any other makeup, so I would look orange with no lips in sight and dark brows and blue eyes, which is hilarious to me now. My mum is a brutally honest woman; therefore, she hated every moment of this phase, most likely because it resulted in my snooping in her drawers for other makeup bits for me to steal, damage or use. I didn't get it at the time, but now I know she was trying to keep a straight face while looking at her daughter, who had just applied clown makeup for the first time.

Back then, makeup was about fitting in because all of my friends wore it, I wanted to be older, and I think a lot of young adolescents want that in a weird way, and then later regret wishing it upon us. It was a rite of passage, something you did to feel older, to feel like you belonged to the cool crowd. It was all about trying to look like the girls I would see walk past or my older sister's friends, with their flawless skin and perfectly defined eyes, but they had more freedom to wear makeup. When I went through my beginning makeup stage with my friends, we were just awkward teenagers, fumbling with brushes and compacts, trying to find our place in the world and who our identity was.

Then, for a while, I gave up on makeup. The pressure to look perfect became too much, and the joy of playing with it was gone. It felt like a chore, another thing I had to do to be considered pretty. I started to resent it, and I went through a phase of not wearing any at all, similar to the stance Pamela Anderson is now taking. I was convinced that going au naturel was the only way to be "truly" beautiful. Of course, that was a whole other kind of pressure, a different kind of armour to bear.

I came back to makeup in my early twenties when I went to university, not as a way to hide, but as a way to play and express myself. I started experimenting with different colours and textures, not to look like anyone else but to express myself and took inspiration from creative women online. I discovered the joy of a colourful eye look, the power of a perfectly blended smoky eye, and the simple pleasure of a tinted lip product combination. Makeup became my creative outlet, a canvas for my face. I could be a different person every day, a different character in my own story.

Now, makeup is my quiet time; I tend to do creative and bold looks for no one else by myself. It's the moment in the morning when I can just be with myself, no distractions, no phones, just me and my brushes with an idea. I put on some music and take my time, carefully applying each product. It's a meditative process, a way to ground myself before I start my day. There's a certain satisfaction in the gentle swish of a brush across my cheek, the smooth glide of a lip liner, and the precise application of mascara. It's a small act of self-care, a way to show myself that I matter. Plus, I love the ritual of cleaning my brushes and seeing how it all satisfyingly melts off the tips, revealing a new brush.

I'm not trying to look like anyone else anymore, which is something I have struggled with, which I assume a lot of people, especially in modern day, do as well. I'm just trying to look like me on a good day. Some days I go all out with a full face of makeup, and other days I just put on some sunscreen and a little bit of blush and lip liner always. It all depends on how I feel. Makeup is no longer a mask I hide behind but a tool I use to express who I am and do something personal to me, such as a beauty mark or occasionally a little wing.

Looking back at that young girl with the orange foundation, I want to tell her that it's okay to make mistakes. It's okay to not know what you're doing. It's okay to be a clown sometimes. Because in the end, it's not about looking perfect. It's about finding what makes you feel good, what makes you feel like you. And for me, that's what makeup has become: a joyful, creative, and personal ritual. It's a reminder that beauty isn't about perfection but about embracing all the messy, fun, and colourful parts of yourself.