Thank You, Lottie, for the Undereye Tip

Sam Escobar
·4 min read

This is part of Thank You Notes, a series of letters offering gratitude to the people and things that inspire us most. Like many others, Allure has spent this summer looking inward — the place from where, as the saying goes, beauty springs. What we found was pain, love, humor, and powerful gratitude, for the people we know and the world we live in. Then we wrote.

To this one particular meme,

Beauty rituals can be deeply soothing. For years, I have used the 20 to 30 minutes I spend applying my makeup as a form of meditation; a brief, allocated span of time that is for me only. I typically punctuate my routine — base, brows, mascara, liner, and lip gloss, on a basic day — with a colorful element, like a shimmery teal Make Up For Ever eye shadow, a bright red liquid liner given to me by one of our editors, or a flower-shaped zit sticker from Squish. Each brings a little light into my day.

The importance of this regimen has increased with age, rising in parallel with my stress levels, rent prices, student loan interest. But for that half-hour in front of my window every day, I’m able to see my face as a living canvas rather than a projection screen for all my insecurities.

It wasn’t always this way. As a child, I was allowed to use makeup as long as it was entirely for fun — a rule made by my (very progressive and wise) mother that stuck around for years. Or until middle school hit. This playful hobby turned into a chore that hinged on hiding: Cover your blemishes, correct your scars, conceal your dark circles.

As a lifelong insomniac, my undereye bags are almost like freckles: They’re always there, but sometimes darken under certain conditions. No product or technique I tried during that tumultuous, hormonal time ever really made them disappear, and the pursuit of evenness just made me more frustrated and resentful. It was years later, with a bit of hindsight and after a lot of sleep, that I stopped worrying and learned to love (or at least not hate) my undereye circles — and, as a result, enjoy beauty.

And then I saw you. I don’t remember when or where — it was probably five or six years ago, while scrolling through Tumblr’s then-lush fields of jpgs. "How to Cover Your Dark Eye Circles," read your text, splayed over a beautiful close-up of a model looking up, with a sea of star appliqués stuck beneath her eyes. (The makeup artist Lottie invented the look for a Nasty Gal shoot in 2014, but even she doesn’t know who applied the text to her photo.)

Your message was simple, straightforward, and perfectly encompassed how so many people in our industry feel: Beauty isn’t a means to "fix" oneself; it is an art form. It's creative and playful.

A few weeks into self-quarantining (or maybe more — the days have blended together like watercolors at this point), the morning beauty routine I had honed for years fell by the wayside. I watched as purplish circles took up permanent residence beneath my eyes, maybe from a lack of sleep or a dearth of daily sunlight.

Thanks to nonstop Zoom calls, I was acutely self-conscious of these unwelcome undereye visitors. Once again, makeup became an obligation: on went the concealer, out went my morning self-care routine and artistic outlet.

But when a friend reposted you one afternoon, we crossed paths again. The timing couldn’t have been better: It was an especially dreary day and I hadn’t slept much the night before, so the dark circles were out in full force, and I was open to literally anything that might offer a mood boost. So I mimicked the look I had admired for years.

A half hour later my undereyes had been concealed by the opposite of concealer, until each dark circle was a night sky filled with stars. For the first time in a long while, I felt exhilarated by makeup rather than exhausted by it. My face brought me so much joy that I didn’t bother taking a selfie (the moment felt far too personal anyway), and the feeling has lasted. You, dear meme — like all things on the internet — truly are forever.

Conventional beauty wisdom, be damned! There’s nothing wrong with drawing attention to imperfections and inconsistencies. Next up, I’m thinking sequins for my acne scars.

Sam Escobar is Allure’s digital editorial director. A version of this story originally appeared in the August 2020 issue of Allure. Read the rest of Allure's Thank You Notes here.

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Originally Appeared on Allure