In praise of the make-under

Updated

First, I stopped starving myself with just 1,200 calories a day. Next, I purged my cosmetics kit and swore off spandex. Maybe Alicia Keys is right, we need a 'no make-up' revolution.

Once upon a time, in my early 20s, I was beautiful.

I was newly freed from my teenage purgatory of perpetual oil and awkwardness, I had stepped into adulthood glowing with the pretty accoutrements of youth.

Men, women and complete strangers would trip over themselves to feed me compliments. People gave me free things, phone numbers and special treatment. Suddenly everyone was extra nice.

Beauty had its benefits, but it wasn't easy. The pressure to keep up saw my "natural face" evolve into a daily rigmarole, requiring nothing less than primer, foundation, green concealer, flesh concealer, under-eye highlighter, powder, blush, mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick. Just "the basics".

I lived on a very secret but permanent diet called hunger. Every outfit was carefully planned to enhance and worn over Spanx — the "shapewear" I used to squish my already tiny 50-kilogram frame into a closer imitation of the two-dimensional line I wished my body to be.

At one point, my beauty obsession spiralled so far out of control I investigated surgery to correct my uneven eyelids ($5,000 and the risk of losing my sight seemed like a totally reasonable deal at the time).

I had fallen into the ultimate trap set for women — the lie, the myth, that beauty is all you need.

A life stripped of foundation and spandex

The beauty myth works like elevator music, playing in the background on an endless loop in targeted ads and the commerce of pink girlhood. Before you even know you've heard it, you're humming along to the tune that a woman's value is a small thing, measured only by how good she looks.

Ten years of research have connected the mental chore of beauty work to women's depression, lower grades, deflated political efficacy and if none of that concerns you, decreased sexual pleasure. There is no doubting the beauty myth hurts.

It hurt me so much, I gave it up. I quit beauty and instead embraced the make under: a life stripped of foundation and hip-contouring spandex.

First, I stopped starving myself with just 1,200 calories a day; next, I purged my make-up kit (though it's been impossible to forgo everything on my personal grooming checklist). It's been a steep learning curve, but a happy one. It's been the realisation I had wasted so much time fighting to be worthy of a word, when the opposite was true. "Beautiful" is a great descriptor for sunsets and jewellery, but not for me.

In a recent essay for Lenny Letter, singer Alicia Keys detailed her decision to give up make-up and the pursuit of physical perfection. She had felt insecure her whole life, she said — the result of the spotlight's relentless pressure to be just the right blend of sexy, skinny and desirable.

"Every time I left the house, I would be worried if I didn't put on makeup," Keys wrote. "What if someone wanted a picture?? What if they POSTED it???"

Keys recently performed sans make-up in front of 380 million viewers at the UEFA Champions League Final and says she plans to keep doing so.

"I hope to God it's a revolution. 'Cause I don't want to cover up anymore. Not my face, not my mind, not my soul, not my thoughts, not my dreams, not my struggles, not my emotional growth. Nothing," she wrote.

Predictably, Keys' #nomakeup revolution has set the internet alight. Floods of girl power articles, social media shares and declarations of solidarity have been written and retweeted in support of the movement.

I am eternally mistrustful about the motives of red carpet feminism, but on this occasion, I'm fully on board. A mainstream performer going makeup-free as a rule and not an exception is something entirely new.

It's something we never see of women in the public eye — we don't see female politicians, female journalists, or female entertainers without make-up. Ever. (Unless it's beneath a "gotcha!" headline on the cover of a tabloid magazine.)

But hasn't the "no make-up" conversation passed its use-by date? Shouldn't we just accept that women can, in the words of Caitlin Moran, choose to "wear make-up for whatever f---ing reason" they want? Not yet. For many women, makeup is definitely not a choice.

The perks of pretty

Studies have consistently shown that women who wear make-up earn higher salaries, are more likely to be promoted, are perceived as more likeable and are rated as more attractive by heterosexual men. The social, economic and political forces that compel women to wear make-up are powerful and are as personal as being loved and accepted.

Now, at 28, I understand why my 20-year-old self thought it wise to invest so much in prettiness. In view of pretty's very serious perks, it could even be considered a smart decision.

But I also know I have never been more miserable or insecure. It didn't matter how hard I worked at "perfect", every day I would encounter someone prettier or skinnier than me. Every day, that encounter would make me hate myself.

I remember the moment I decided enough was enough. Having read an article about the psychological importance of starting the day positively, it occurred to me I was starting my day staring at my face in the mirror, actively hunting for flaws to hide.

I started finding the beauty myth's writing all over my life. It wasn't just attached to my fashion choices; it dictated my diet, my workouts, where I would or wouldn't go.

It saw me approach romance like a bartering system — attractiveness could be exchanged for affection. Anything that risked too many eyes, like speaking up in class or going to the beach, had been permanently scratched off the to-do list.

Some decisions were conscious, like throwing away most of my make-up and discovering that there were people who found a woman's bare face inappropriate, an anomaly. Other things I just let happen, like getting hooked on weightlifting and gaining so much girth I can no longer fit my arms through the sleeves of my old tops.

People no longer stop me in the street

No-one tells me how pretty I am anymore. I don't get free coffees from overly-friendly baristas. TV recruitment people don't stop me in the street.

And while it might sound as though I lost something, it doesn't feel that way. In fact, just as Keys describes, it feels liberating. Drawing your self-worth from stuff you have to buy and apply is a risky bet.

Getting comfy with the skin you're in and knowing your identity is formed deep beneath the skin is true empowerment.

Where I disagree with Keys' and Dove-endorsed "natural beauty campaigns" is this: letting go of beauty norms is not about learning to see our natural selves as "beautiful". It is about eliminating the word from our psyches altogether. Most days, I don't think about beauty at all. I literally just don't give a crap.

I'm not a feminist puritan, nor have I exorcised the beauty myth completely. I still spend silly amounts of time and money on hair removal and have a tendency of responding to the lens of a camera with all the comfort of a fish on a hook.

I also know that rebellion has many shades; sometimes it's Caitlin Moran's lashings of witchy green eye shadow or an LA face accessorised with an armpit full of hair.

It doesn't really matter how we shake ourselves free, but that we keep reminding each other it is possible — maybe that's why no make-up selfie campaigns get so much traction.

Alicia Keys is right: we do need a "no make-up" revolution. It's time for a make-under.

Topics: feminism, women, social-media, popular-culture, australia

First posted