Makeup

In eighth grade, I was asked to write about my hobbies and career goals, but I hesitated. Should I just make something up? I was embarrassed to tell people that my hobby was collecting cosmetics and that I wanted to become a cosmetic chemist. I worried others would judge me as too girlish and less competent compared to friends who wanted to work at the UN in foreign affairs or police the internet to crack down on hackers. The very fact that I was insecure about my “hobby” was perhaps proof that cosmetics was trivial, and I was a superficial girl for loving it.

But cosmetics was not just a pastime, it was an essential part of my daily life. In the morning I got up early for my skincare routine, using brightening skin tone and concealing blemishes, which gave me the energy and confidence throughout the day. At bedtime I relaxed with a soothing cleansing ritual applying different textures and scents of liquids, creams, sprays, and gels. My cosmetic collection was a dependable companion–rather than hiding it away, I decided instead to learn more about cosmetics, and to explore.

However, cosmetic science wasn’t taught at school so I designed my own training. It began with the search for a local cosmetician to teach me the basics of cosmetics, and each Sunday I visited her lab to formulate organic products. A year of lab practice taught me how little I knew about ingredients, so my training continued with independent research on toxins. I discovered that safety in cosmetics was a contested issue amongst scientists, policy makers, companies, and consumer groups, and there was no consensus on whether or not small amounts of toxic ingredients were actually harmful to humans. I was frustrated by this uncertainty, yet motivated to find ways of sharing what I was learning with others.

Research spurred action. I began writing articles on the history of toxic cosmetics, from lead in Elizabethan face powder to lead in today’s lipstick, and communicated with a large readership online. Positive feedback from 42,000 readers taught me that it’s possible to connect emotionally with a large audience when common interests are shared. Their support inspired me to step up my writing and to raise awareness among my peers, so I wrote a gamified survey for online distribution discussing the lax natural and organic labeling of cosmetics, which is neither regulated nor properly defined. At school I saw opportunities to affect real change and launched a series of green chemistry campaigns. The green agenda engaged the school community in something positive and was a magnet for creative student ideas, such as a recent project to donate handmade organic pet shampoos to local dog shelters. By senior year, I was pleased my exploration had gone well.

But on a recent holiday back home, I unpacked and noticed cosmetics had invaded much of my space over the years. My dresser top and drawers were crammed with unused tubes and jars–once handpicked with loving care, but now reduced to garbage. I sorted through each hardened face powder and discolored lotion, remembering what had excited me about the product and how I’d used it. Examining these mementos led me to a surprising realization: yes, I had been a superficial girl obsessed with clear and flawless skin.

But there was something more too.

My makeup had given me confidence and comfort, and that was okay. More importantly, I am glad I didn’t abandon the superficial me, but instead acknowledged her, and stood by her to take her on an enlightening and rewarding journey. Cosmetics led me to dig deeper into scientific inquiry, helped me develop an impassioned voice, and became a tool to connect me with others. Together, I’ve learned that the beauty of a meaningful journey lies in getting lost for it was in the meandering that I found myself.