STYLE

Beauty

All made up...even when there's no place to go

Many girls packed away their blush brushes during quarantine—some for good. But for Vanessa Tropona, her happy place is still her beauty bag. 

I'll never forget the first time I put on mascara: twisting the cap around, pumping the wand like I'd seen in the movies, carefully wiping the excess at the top of the tube and examining the bristles like I'd discovered something magical. I started coating my lashes with fast strokes and didn't stop until I heard the honk of the car horn outside. My ride was waitiing.

I stepped back, looked in the mirror and—for the first time in my 12-year-old life—I absolutely loved the color of my eyes. They were brighter, more sparkly—not just hazel but emerald and gold and gorgeous. I was in awe of myself. And I was in awe of the pink tube (and its iconic green cap) that I held in my hand.

In that moment—that instantly empowering reaction to my reflection—I developed a love and appreciation for makeup that started with mascara but quickly grew to include anything you could find at a cosmetics counter.

Ten years later, I'm just as obsessed. But now, with many girls staying makeup-free, my decision to wear a full face of products is seen as suspect. Waste of time! Waste of money! With outings limited, masks still a thing and Zoom's "makeup" filter just a click away, who exactly am I getting all gussied up for? The answer is simple: Me. 

FIRST BLUSH

My love affair with makeup got off to a rocky start. "Your eyelashes are clumpy and you look like a raccoon. Can I copy your history worksheet?" Those words, straight from the mouth of my best friend, stung. She was right, though—I was a bit of a mess in those early days of experimentation. 

I'm not friends with that girl anymore, but her words were a wake-up call that my skills were a little rough. Back, then the internet wasn't the same was it is now and (gasp!) YouTube tutorials weren't a thing yet. (I honestly have no idea how we survived.) There were no unboxings, no hacks, no hauls. No videos I could mirror to learn to perfectly paint on a cat-eye or easily sweep and contour my ways to sculpted cheekbones.

But through trial, error and some really embarrassing photos taken along the way, I finally started to figure everything out: the basic principle of blending (make sure your neck matches your face), how to completely conceal a blemish (set everything with a bit of powder) and, after one too many eyelash curler accidents, how to properly apply false lashes (use just a teensy amount of glue). 

MAKING UP MY MIND

My mother wasn't quite so impressed. Every morning as I was enjoying my cornflakes, she would sit down at the kitchen table and hint that I was more garish than glowy.

"Too much makeup, Ness. You look better without it." I'd roll my eyes, keep chewing and pretend I didn't hear her.

Of course, I knew I looked just fine without makeup, but I didn't care. I loved the process. And when my friends and classmates started asking me if I would do their makeup for football games, recitals and school dances, I knew that I was onto something—and I was happy to help.

By the time I got the college, the online beauty world was booming. I spent hours watching tutorials, researching products and applying layers of primer, bronzer, highlighter and blush. I honed my skills, taught myself techniques. (Although, just FYI, not everything is a success and as easy as the vloggers make it look—like that time I tried to contour my legs to make them look longer and more sculpted. Yes, really.) When people started asking if I was a professional makeup artist, I knew I had gotten it right.

MY FACE, MY CHOICE

Still, not everyone always appreciated my passion. When I started saving money from every paycheck to splurge on one high-end product each month, my friends began to complain. "You don't have the cash to go out to eat tonight, but you just spent $60 at Sephora?" they'd ask. "That doesn't make any sense!" 

Some people splurge on clothes or dinners or traveling because that's what makes them happy and fulfilled. Nobody judges an artist for buying high-quality paints or an athlete for buying the best equipment—so why exactly should it be any different for me and my makeup?

Let me be clear: For me, makeup is a creative choice—an outlet for self-expression and a celebration of the features I happen to highlight that day: a red lip that shows off my smile or a smoky eye when I'm feeling fierce.

I will forever be the girl rocking false eyelashes for a trip to the grocery store (try it with your mask and tell me you don't look amazing). And yes, those few awkward times I went to the gym I was, in fact, wearing a full face.

At the end of the day, all that matters is this: Putting on makeup makes me happy. And there's nothing more beautiful than that.

Hey, girl! Just wanted to let you know that this story originally ran in our August/September 2020 issue. Want more? Read the print mag for free *today* when you click HERE.

by Vanessa Tropona | 8/29/2020
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