Shelf Care: Momo on Beauty, Part 2
Here at She’s Full of Lit, we are multi-faceted women whose mutual interests don’t just include books. One of those interests is beauty, and the products and rituals we use to take care of ourselves. We thought a series outlining our skin care, makeup, and hair routines, as well as some deeper questions about what beauty means to us, would be a fun read outside of our usual book-related content.
Part 1 of Moira’s Shelf Care series is here.
From whom did did you learn about makeup?
My family forgetting to include me in the dress code.
I have two significantly older sisters, so I think mostly from my eldest sister, who was a teenager when I was in elementary school. She paved the way of negotiating makeup with my mother (and hiding her Kaboodle to do her makeup at her best friend’s house before school), so that by the time I wanted to wear it, it wasn’t an issue. I also started doing my makeup relatively young for ballet, and learned from watching the older girls.
How would you characterize your personal style?
The poor man’s Joan Holloway.
I kid, mostly, but I have a Jessica Rabbit-y shape, a high femme sensibility, and a penchant for everything mid-century. I’m hyper-aware of silhouette, likely to a fault, as it keeps me from trying trends that might be fun but not as “flattering.” Almost everything I own cinches at the waist and has a v-neck.
When do you feel beautiful?
I wish I had a more profound answer to this, but when my hair looks good, I feel beautiful. If my hair is dirty or flat or frizzy, I just want to cry, no matter how cute my makeup or outfit might be.
When I run in the morning I also think I take a little glow with me for the rest of the day, and that makes me feel beautiful.
I was once a redhead who could jump really high.
How do you think your ballet and performance background influenced your beauty philosophy?
To be honest, mostly entirely negatively. Ballet reinforced a lot of unrealistic, physically and emotionally painful beauty standards: chiefly, that being thin is centrally important and even morally superior. Even at my thinnest, I have had dramatic curves, so I felt very “other” for something I realistically should have celebrated or at the very least have been neutral about.
On a more positive note, my co-bloggers will tell you I know how to pose for pictures! I can also do a French twist in ten seconds with two bobby pins, which is a skill worth at least a little bit of trauma in exchange.
What is one beauty step you never skip?
I joke that I haven’t left the house without mascara since I was fourteen. This is probably not strictly accurate, but I absolutely always apply it before I do anything. I even wear it to therapy (when will I learn?!).
Do you have a general beauty philosophy?
Do what makes you feel beautiful, with as little regard to patriarchal standards as is permitted by your circumstances. When I say this, though, I don’t mean that you can’t be glam and feminine and wear a ton of makeup—if that brings you joy, I think it’s just as wrong to criticize that as it is to criticize women who don’t wear makeup.
It’s pretty obvious that women face criticism regardless of how much or little makeup they choose to wear. I’ve made peace that I wear it for the male gaze (even if it’s my own internalized male gaze). I do feel that socially I could go without makeup and people wouldn’t really react, but it does feel like a necessity for the field of work I’m in. It’s such a mindfuck of a balance you have to strike: enough makeup to look “professional,” whatever that actually means, but not enough makeup that you look overdone. (Caveat that my workplace is amazing and I feel this is specific to my field but not a pervasive problem at my work—k thx)
