I am having a rough week.
Well, not week. More like, phase. In the grand romantic relationship with myself, I just want to stop and rewrite the narrative, since the story has stopped making any fucking sense whatsoever to me.
My birthday is in a week, and my 7th “blogaversary” was about 6 weeks ago. On the surface, these really aren’t any sort of meaningful milestones, but they are important markers of time… So much time. I started a version of this blog when I was just a baby, a girl who loved all things beauty but felt stuck in an ugly relationship. That quickly changed, but so did the marriage of makeup and the Internet… And so did my feelings.
I just wasn’t feeling the same sort of excitement that I first did when I started a blog, or when I got a new makeup product. The mere idea of having to blog or put on makeup or put on makeup and blog about it filled me with anxiety and exhaustion. I loved the perks of blogging, I just hated the work. My personal life was definitely putting a major damper on things for me, and I was like, OMFG HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN? Howww?!?!
Last week, I popped into Sephora and watched some teen girls lose their shit over the $56 price tag of the latest must-have eye shadow palette. Dude, remember being 17 and wishing you had sixty bucks to spare on makeup? Like painstakingly saving up your allowance or cash flow from your minimum wage part-time job and finally being able to buying it and like being so careful while applying product as not to fuck up your look as to not waste any precious, precious pigment.
Remember that? I was watching these girls (in a super non-creepy way) and thinking, “That’s it. That’s what’s missing.”
That same day, I had a meeting with a company regarding a TOP SECRET PROJECT that involved beauty. As I was heading out, one of the executives stopped me to say that listening to me talk about beauty was so inspiring and it’s obvious that I am really passionate about my industry. That was a really cool thing to hear, and both of those events basically convinced me to give this beauty blog thing another shot.
Look, I love makeup, but the kind that hints at a really cool story. A beat face with overdone contour and Instagram eyebrows is great, but that tells me nothing about someone – it’s boring. I like products and looks with memories and stories attached to them, like a favorite concealer you discovered after being necked by Justin Bieber at a random house party in the Val, waking up on a couch only to see a massive hickey on your collarbone that you need to disguise ASAP.
That’s never actually happened to me – or most people, to be honest – but it would be cool if it did. Well, kind of, I don’t actually want to get necked by the Biebs. Or do I, who knows. What I do know is that I can continue to keep bringing my unique perspective on beauty, style, and livin’ to this site, and if I ever get bored again, I can just tap back into baby Bren losing her shit over a $16 lip gloss at Urban Outfitters back in 1999.