MM Curator, Author at The Makeup Museum: Where Cosmetics & Art Intersect

It's the most wonderful time of the year…to look at vintage Christmas makeup ads, that is! You know I can't get enough of these, so here's a quick roundup (in no particular order) of some I added to the Museum's collection this year. 🙂

I have many Dorothy Gray ads, but not any from the '20s. Their early packaging was so sleek.

Apparently you can avoid an inferiority complex with a manicure set. LOL.

Santa, you jerk! Why did you give me an empty box? Now I have to go to the store and have it filled?! That's not a good present!

I understand custom powder was Charles of the Ritz's bread and butter and you had to actually go to a counter to get your own personal blend, but I'd still be pissed if someone gave me this. Get me a nice compact!

Santa gave considerably better gifts in this ad. I'm a bit confused about the presence of donkeys (shouldn't it be reindeer?), but I do love the overall cartoon-y look of this one.

René Bouché (1905-1963) was Elizabeth Arden's head advertising illustrator in addition to working for Vogue. If you see an illustrated ad for Elizabeth Arden from the 40s or 50s most likely it was done by Bouché's hand. I believe this is the first ad by this artist to join the Museum's collection. 🙂

I can't recall how I stumbled across these Djer-Kiss ads, but I'm so pleased I found them! Djer-Kiss "Kissing Fairies" compact has been on my wishlist for a long time, but the ads are just as gorgeous as the compacts. I'm hell-bent on collecting all of them, as they're simply beautiful and feature a variety of illustrators. Collecting Vintage Compacts has an amazingly thorough history of the company, which makes me want them all the more. I believe the illustrator for this one was Willy Pogany, although I couldn't find a signature anywhere so I can't be sure.

This one is by C.F. Neagle, who does a breathtaking job of capturing iridescence – from fairy wings to Christmas baubles, there's a multi-colored sheen that seems to pop off the page.

I love all the little sprites flitting about the gift box, particularly the ones hanging off the top and sitting on the edge. Incredibly charming, no?

So that concludes 2017's vintage Christmas ad roundup! Which one was your favorite? I love all of these, of course, but I'm partial to the very silly Max Factor ad and the beautiful Djer-Kiss ads.

As video games are not my forte, this will be a short post. I did however want to briefly share what I got from the Super Mario collection from Shu Uemura. I couldn't find much information as to why they decided to collaborate and why this year – Super Mario debuted in 1985 so it's not a major anniversary of the game. Of course, I was unable to access the full article in WWD because my local library STILL doesn't have that particular issue available, but I was able to cobble together a few WWD quotes from Shu's artistic director regarding the collection. Kakuyasu Uchiide told the publication, "This collection is not so much about creating, but it is about playing. I want people to be able to play with their individual style. I really want to show what is our spirit, our DNA, our creativity. That's the only way to realize what Mr. Uemura wanted to do, which was to strive to link art with cosmetics, to link art with beauty…This time we got inspiration from culture. Super Mario Bros. is one cultural aspect that is representative of Japan. It’s also really, really popular overseas." I have a feeling the full article might be able to shed more light as to how the collaboration with Nintendo came about, but as the company has teamed up with many other brands and designers (and also licensed a children's shampoo – Shu's collection is not the first one to have Super Mario themed haircare) I guess it's not that unexpected that they partnered with a Japanese makeup brand.

Some of the items weren't sold in the U.S. and the palette was completely sold out, so I had to go to my trusty personal shopper in Japan to get my grubby paws on them.

The packaging design is taken from the game's original 1985 look.

(image from forum.flymeos.com)

The basic premise of the game: "Super Mario Bros. takes place in the Mushroom Kingdom. The game begins when a tribe of a turtle-like race known as the Koopa Troopas invade the kingdom and uses the magic of its king, Bowser, to turn its inhabitants into inanimate objects such as bricks. Bowser and his army also kidnap Princess Toadstool, the daughter of the Mushroom King and the only one with the ability to reverse Bowser's spell. After hearing the news, Mario sets out to save the princess and free the kingdom from Bowser. After traveling through various parts of the kingdom and fighting Bowser's forces along the way, Mario finally reaches Bowser's final stronghold, where he is able to defeat him and send him falling into a pool of lava, allowing the princess to be freed and the Mushroom Kingdom saved." The princess was always known as Princess Peach in Japan, but was changed to Princess Toadstool in the English version.

The flying turtles (Koopa Paratroopas) and little mushrooms (Goombas) are the most commonly appearing enemies of Mario. He can, however, usually defeat them by tossing a fire flower their way, the motif that decorates the cushion blush compact.

I always appreciate a pattern on the interior of boxes – such a nice little detail.

This was the only disappointment packaging-wise for me. Unlike other Shu cleansing oils, the pattern isn't printed directly on the bottle, only on the plastic wrapping. The reason I know this (and was able to avoid mistakenly taking off the outer wrapping) was because I purchased the smaller Mario cleansing oil to actually use, as I thought it would look cute in my bathroom. I went to peel off the wrap and realized the print was on there and that the bottle itself was plain. I have no idea why Shu decided to did that, as the patterns are printed directly onto the bottle with all my other limited edition oils.

The palette was the standout of the collection, which sold out in a flash in the U.S. It's easy to see why – it has most of the main characters from the game complete with gold foil details, and the blushes on the inside are embossed with more motifs from the game.

Here's just a short history of Super Mario Bros. In the early '80s Nintendo was struggling to keep afloat in the American market. The CEO ended up tapping a graphic designer who had never designed a game in his life, Shigeru Miyamoto, to come up with a compelling story and accompanying game. Loosely based on Popeye characters, Donkey Kong debuted in 1981 and introduced "Jumpman", who would become Mario two years later. Nintendo knew their audience wouldn't really respond to Jumpman – a proper name was needed. Mario ended up being the chosen moniker, named after a landlord who, during a meeting, stormed in and demanded the overdue rent for the warehouse Nintendo was occupying at the time. While Mario Bros. was relatively popular, it wasn't until 1985 when Super Mario Bros. debuted that the game really took off.

Some other fun facts about Super Mario, courtesy of The Guardian:

Mario was originally a carpenter, not a plumber.
The Super Mario bros series is in the Guinness Book of Records as the most successful gaming franchise of all time. As of 2010, it boasted global sales of over 240 million units.
The character Mario has appeared in over 200 separate video games.
It’s also the first game in which Mario cannot die by falling.

What do you think of this collection? Do you like video games? While I played Super Mario a few times as a kid, I probably would have been more into video games if I wasn't so uncoordinated. 😛

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Makeup Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum topics as they relate to the collecting of cosmetics, along with my vision for a “real”, physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me think through how I’d run things if the Museum was an actual organization, as well as examine the ways it’s currently functioning. I also hope that these posts make everyone see that the idea of a museum devoted to cosmetics isn’t so crazy after all – it can be done!

The recent notion of a “made for Instagram” museum experience is a topic that is near and dear to my IG-loving heart. I’ve been on Instagram for about a year and half, and it’s easily become my favorite social media platform. The idea of designing restaurants, hotels, and food with Instagram in mind has officially spilled over into the museum world, so today I want to explore not how museums are using this immensely popular app (800 million users and counting), but the pros and cons of offering museum spaces and exhibitions partially based on how photogenic they are. I also want to talk about how “Instagrammable” the Makeup Museum would be if it occupied a physical space.

There were a few articles I consulted for background information, most of which mentioned the same few museums and exhibitions that seem to be made for Instagram: most notably, the Museum of Ice Cream, Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirror Rooms, The Color Factory, the Rain Room, Refinery29’s 29 Rooms, and the Smithsonian Renwick Gallery’s 2015 “Wonder” exhibition. While the directors and curators behind these insist that they did not design them solely for photo-opp purposes, for many visitors it’s the main takeaway. And some museum professionals and art critics have questioned whether that’s a good thing.

First, let’s look at the pros of having Instagram-friendly spaces and exhibitions. Many agree that highly photogenic, immersive, colorful exhibitions are an excellent way to boost attendance and name recognition. Not only do these exhibitions get more people in the door, once visitors are there they tend to wander to other parts of the museum. In an insightful article for the Washington City Paper, Kriston Capps argues that the made-for-Instagram museum has been a boon to DC’s art scene: “Locally, if there’s a concern about museums serving too many sweets and not enough vegetables, it’s that exhibits that are low on nutrition—meaning shows that lack scholarship, quietude, or the possibility of an anti-social experience—will crowd out shows of substance…quieter shows aren’t going anywhere; in fact, museum directors say that more people are seeing them than ever before, thanks to the louder stuff. ‘There are incalculable benefits when a place that has long been almost invisible in Washington’s crowded museum scene suddenly is one of the hottest destinations in town,’ says Elizabeth “Betsy” Broun, the longtime director of the Smithsonian American Art Museum and Renwick Gallery. ‘Yes, it helps with funding appeals when potential supporters say ‘Wow, the Renwick!’ instead of ‘Where’s the Renwick?’ Surely those museums saw upticks in attendance from Rain Roomers who wandered into other art exhibitions. People queued up outside the building means more foot traffic through the doors—always a plus. And museum boards, donors, and members are no doubt pleased to see high-water marks for attendance…D.C. museums are betting that spectacles are a way to convert crowds into viewers.”

Secondly, even if critics don’t think a particular exhibition is actually art and more of a spectacle made for photo opps, does it really matter? People are having fun in a museum setting, which ostensibly is a good thing. And this might lead them to think about art and museums on a more meaningful level than the pool of ice cream sprinkles they just swam in. As former editorial fellow for the Atlantic Katherine Schwab notes, “Engaging people with art in any way possible is, for many museums, the first step in persuading them of its deeper value. And taking photos of works, however performative it may be, is a way for people to show off what’s important to them.” Adds Russell Dornan for Museum ID, “By photographing their way around a museum, visitors may engage in a deeper way than they otherwise would. Crucially, they also spread the word.”

But there are detractors who believe museums shouldn’t fully embrace the Instagrammable hype. For one thing, it might have the opposite effect on art’s worth, reducing it to a prop rather than enhancing its cultural and historical merit. “Nowadays, art for the sake of art is much less desirable if you can’t document it with an aesthetically pleasing photo to showoff your followers. Art is becoming more of a supporting background in our self-portraits than something of stand-alone value,” warns Annie Francl in Shapeshift Magazine.

Secondly, people may not even be enjoying the experience after all; instead, they’re only there to one-up their Instagram buddies and keep up with the Joneses. The Cut asked several people waiting in line for Kusama’s Infinity Mirrors about why they were there. The responses? “All my friends on Instagram have gone. It looks cool” and “I saw them all over the place on Instagram. A lot of friends have come here.” Indeed, the “worthless without pics” mantra is alive and well. Says Shelby Lerman for Thrive Global, “[The] bigger issue here is not that these spaces are made for Instagram, as seemingly everything today is made with Instagram in mind. It’s that these spaces are created to be adult playgrounds and a huge part of that play depends on being able to prove that you’ve played. (As the saying goes, Instagram or it didn’t happen.) It is not experiencing for the sake of experience: it’s doing something specifically so you can record it and post it to your followers…Plus, these whimsical wonderlands encourage you to shake loose from your daily routine, but also rest on the idea that you’ll be grabbing your smartphone to do it. And to think that spaces are made less habitable in real life so that they work better on social media is a strange thought indeed.” If people aren’t fully immersed in the exhibition experience because they feel an urgent need to document it, museum-going may seem more of a chore than anything else. This PBS article highlights a quote from the premier membership manager at the Seattle Art Museum, who, while heartened at seeing the lines stretching around the block for Kusama’s Infinity Mirrors exhibition, also “felt social media usage hindered the experience, for some users, of an exhibit designed for quiet reflection on the idea of infinity. ‘Instead, people went in there and were like, ‘I only have 30 seconds to take the best picture, the coolest picture,’ he said.'” The article also mentions a study at Fairfield University in Connecticut which found that museum-goers didn’t remember the art when they took photos of it as well as when they were simply observing the art. Along those lines, in the frenzy to get the perfect photo, art can even be damaged – one of Kusama’s sculptures was shattered due to an overzealous selfie-taker in the Infinity Mirrors exhibition.

Perhaps the best expression of my main concern with highly Instagrammable museums comes from Wired Magazine, which produced a short video and more in-depth article on the subject. What benefit do people really get out of the made-for-Instagram museum? “Maybe the question is not whether or not these spaces contain art, or even what their relationship to social media says at all, but instead: What do we get out of these spaces? Do they make us think and reflect and see the world differently? Or does the experience inside amount to the little square photo you post online?” I know that if the Museum occupied a physical space, I certainly wouldn’t want it to be just about photo opps with oversized lipsticks, fun though they are. I want people to actually learn something about makeup and art. And I know when I visit museums I take a few photos here and there, but not for Instagram purposes. I take them to help me remember how special it was to experience the art first-hand – I’m far more invested in learning something and simply observing the art rather than documenting everything I saw or trying to get a selfie. I’d probably be somewhat disappointed if I visited the Museum of Ice Cream since, to my knowledge, there’s no actual attempt to provide people with the history of ice cream, facts about its consumption across the world, etc. But it seems people want to be entertained more than they want to be educated (according to the findings of this study), and no museum director wants to alienate the whopping 81% of people who expect some sort of social media tie-in to their visitor experience, so how would a physical Makeup Museum strike the perfect balance between fun and education?

Obviously the answer lies in striving for compromise. The Makeup Museum would definitely have its fair share of highly Instagrammable spaces. For me, makeup is mostly about having fun and playing with color, so it would almost feel like a crime not to have some kind of crazy colorful installation, if not several, that serves as the perfect selfie backdrop. Who wouldn’t want to take a dive into a pool full of soft, spongey, brightly hued Beauty Blenders? Or capture the perfect picturesque view atop a gigantic lipstick tower? As the study pointed out, the vast majority of museum-goers are expecting an opportunity to show off their snaps. The Cut article highlights several exhibition goers who had actually strategized how they were going to take photos: “Why else would you come [if not to take photos]? We’re going to have to go through it first and then go again, so I know what I need to take pictures of.” Another remarks, “I kind of did some research of what pieces will be shown at the gallery. I brought my Insta360 camera and two iPhones to shoot as much as I can, since I heard there was a time limit for each piece. Specially the Infinity mirror room and polka-dotted environment were the perfect two pieces to do a 360.” At this level of photography planning on the part of visitors, it’s important not to disappoint them.

At the same time, however, it’s equally important to make sure people who want to be educated and who maybe just want to take everything in don’t get overwhelmed with crazy, over-the-top, made for Instagram exhibitions and spaces. There would be a few spaces and installations available for those who want the full Instagram documentation, or if the space the Museum occupied really didn’t allow for that, I could at least offer a guide to the most Instagrammable spots in the Museum. Smithsonian Magazine highlights how some museums have been rearranging a few of their galleries to make them more selfie-friendly. “The Getty Museum in Los Angeles rearranged mirrors in its decorative arts gallery to make mirror selfies easier, while San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art added terraces designed as selfie spots. On its website, the Birmingham Museum of Art in Birmingham, Alabama describes its summer art series as ‘Instagram gold’ and offers an online slideshow of the top places in the museum to take a selfie.” But this would definitely not be the focus of the Museum, as my primary aim in founding it was for people to learn something about the history of makeup and appreciate the artistry that goes into the packaging. Especially since, despite the hordes of visitors who are chasing the perfect shot, there are still those who want to simply experience the art and not worry about documenting it. About her plans for visiting Infinity Mirrors, another museum-goer tells The Cut, “You’re going to miss the whole thing if you take a video! I’ll probably take one or two pics, but I’ll probably try to just take it all in, because we’re only in there for a limited amount of time. I don’t really want to take a photo, I kind of want to just chill.” This is largely my approach as a museum visitor and basically every other outing. There’s a reason you hardly ever see food photos on my IG, as I prefer to eat my food than take pictures of it. Same with concerts and other shows – as much as I’d like to get the perfect photo, I feel as though the stress of it completely negates my enjoyment of the event. My goal is to have the Makeup Museum be a place for both people like me as well as those who prefer spectacle over substance, a positive experience for everyone. As professional Instagrammer (yes, it can be a job) Patrick Janelle concludes in the Smithsonian article, “Ultimately what we want are really wonderful experiences…and sure we want to be able to document them on social media, but we also crave things that are just really wonderful and special in real life.”

What do you think? And what would be the ultimate Instagram bait for a makeup museum?

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I blinked a few times when I first laid eyes on this set by indie brand Sugarpill, thinking it was odd that Mark Ryden had collaborated with them. But then I saw that the company had teamed up with Brandi Milne, another Pop Surrealist whose work, upon closer inspection, is markedly different than Ryden's.

I won't make any excuses as to why I didn't get to posting about this before now even though it was originally released for Valentine's Day; the reason is that I'm simply disorganized. The set got buried under a bunch of other makeup items in the office, and it wasn't until I recently started seeing mentions on various art blogs of Milne's new solo exhibition, which opened last week, that I remembered I had it.

I love that one of the little teeth from the outside of the palette made its way to the interior of the box.

There was a truly overwhelming amount of information and interviews with Milne, so I hope by whittling it down somewhat I can still do her art justice. Get ready for a lot of quotes since I believe the artist's own words are the most useful in understanding their work.

Milne, a self-taught artist, drew and colored throughout her childhood in Anaheim, California (and in a strict Christian household) and began showing her work in various galleries in the early aughts. By January 2008 she was able to make painting her full-time career. Let's explore the various themes in her work and how her style has evolved over the years, shall we?

Early on, Milne's style was more illustrative, most likely due to the fact that she hadn't been exposed to much contemporary art. She explains, "I grew up completely unaware of contemporary artists. In the 90s when I was drawing in my room ('developing my style' at that time), I didn’t know of Mark Ryden and Camille Rose Garcia, or anyone painting wild things the way they were. So I had only my own world of things that influenced me – the children’s books I had as a kid, Bugs Bunny cartoons, coloring books, Woody Woodpecker and Heckle and Jeckle, Disney’s Alice in Wonderland and Pinocchio, vintage Halloween and Christmas decorations, music that had inspired me – and the way my imagination interpreted all of it."

(image from thinkspacegallery.com)

Her passion for art grew, and now Milne cites Mucha, Erte, Maxfield Parrish, Norman Rockwell, along with the aforementioned Garcia, as her chief influences. She gradually switched to painting, which allowed her to be a little less precise than drawing neat, contained lines. "I used to work on paper/illustration board with watercolors, pencil and ink in order to keep things REAL tight and clean. I used to hold my breath whenever I worked, and my poor hand would cramp up because I was so pressed for perfection. Over time, I couldn’t stand feeling like a mistake would set me back the entire piece – I wanted to be free. Painting on wood was my ticket out of that stress filled bind I was putting myself in, and I took the leap a few years back, scared as hell! But since then, that freedom is the rabbit I’ve been chasing!" Interestingly, Milne's husband custom makes all of the wood panels she uses as her canvas. I always love a supportive spouse. :)

Other stylistic shifts include Milne's choice of colors. Earlier work presents a fairly neutral palette, but more recently Milne has favored a brighter, arguably more feminine palette that's heavy on red, pink and white. In reference to her latest exhibition, she says, "In this new body of work, my palette went from really bright brights—fluorescents paired with really dark contrasts. I wanted to illustrate life blossoming from darkness. That so much beauty and life can spark from or grow from a place that seems frightening or lifeless…I love red and hyper pinks and whites. There was a year within the process of making this body of work where all I wanted to paint was reds and pinks and whites." This is most likely the influence of a new florescent shade of red she stumbled across at an art supplies store a few years ago. In any case, red, pink and white is the dominant color scheme for Milne these days, and this is reflected in the Sugarpill palette as well.

(image from coreyhelfordgallery.com)

One aspect of Milne's style that's more or less remained consistent is the oddly extended limbs of the girls in her paintings.

(image from thinkspacegallery.com)

She notes that this feature came naturally: "I enjoy bending scale in my work…it wasn’t as important to bend the scale as it was to make the characters feel as if they were at home in their environment. These things are not intentional – they come [instinctively]…Maybe the exaggerated limbs represent a feeling of being larger than life. A feeling of being able to reach and grow beyond what one might feel their capabilities limit. " So not only do these long arms and legs make for a more cohesive composition, they also represent the emotional "stretching" required to handle life's challenges.

(images from coreyhelfordgallery.com)

Thematically speaking, Milne's portrayals of female characters are highly autobiographical. The title work from her 2009 show "Run Rabbit, Run", for example, represents the emotional strife faced by Milne after the passing of her mother. "The idea and feeling behind this body of work is strongly related to my mother’s passing in March ’08. My work is emotionally narrative (not by choice), and because I’m struggling through this huge loss, it’s reflected in my new works. I’ve tied in the show’s theme ‘Run Rabbit, Run’ – a lyric from Pink Floyd that hit hard for me one day while I was listening to Dark Side of the Moon, and really feeling my mom’s absence. It struck a note with me, and opened up this idea in my mind. This was the inspiration for my new show, and in turn, extremely helpful in my heart…My girls are an endless narrative for me. She’s my way of voicing an emotion in a piece, sad, innocent, scared."

(image from thinkspacegallery.com)

This painting depicts Milne trying to stay close to a dear friend who moved away.

And for I Never Dreamed of Such a Place, she explains, "She's kind of broken. Her body is broken, she’s giving up and hitting bottom. And then myself – I feel like the way that I grew up was in kind of a religious bubble. So in that aspect, I feel like I’m really innocent, you know? As a lamb, being slaughtered. That’s me…It looks cheery, but it’s bloody. She’s broken and I’ve been going through a lot – trying to help myself. So it’s all coming out in the work.”

(images from coreyhelfordgallery.com)

These works show Milne's vulnerability but also her resilience. Take, for example, Hold Fast, in which a girl receives stitches administered by a fairy godmother-like being, who's an embodiment of the artist herself "mending" her own psychological wounds. It may seem a tad gruesome at first, but it's actually a message of healing and renewal.

As for other themes, Milne's work weaves together the many influences from her childhood mentioned previously: Fisher Price toys, holiday decorations, and, of course, proximity to Disneyland. "Pinocchio, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, Dumbo, etc. Having loved all those cartoons, going to Disneyland was surreal. The Tea Cup ride with all the lanterns in the shady trees and twinkly lights above. Flying over that lit-up city in the Peter Pan ride, Frog and Toad, the Matterhorn? Being at Disneyland as a kid, is really unparalleled to anything else. It was hugely influential," she says. Additionally, her mother's religious outlook, coupled with the darker side of fairy tales and Disney movies, inspired the concept of duality that permeates so many of her paintings. While they seem to be cheerful and innocent upon first glance, something sinister lurks beneath the candy-coated surface. One example is Be Good for Goodness Sake, in which two happy snowmen naively enjoy some frosty cold milk…that's actually laced with opium, given the labels on the bottle. (Yes, "milk of the poppy" is indeed a Game of Thrones reference.)

Or Soothe Yourself, which shows an innocent little bunny surrounded by brightly colored sweets munching on a gingerbread man. It's an adorable scene until you notice the gingerbread man is (understandably) frowning, while equally sad-looking teeth look on. A piece of taffy (?) on the left cradles what appears to be a dead tooth, and the cherry cordial on the lower right has broken and spilled onto the snow.

(images from coreyhelfordgallery.com)

Milne says, "I love duality. It was so confusing to me growing up, I really couldn’t wrap my head around it and I fought it for so long. I believed that things should be black or white; that you were either a good person or a bad person. You were either happy or you were sad. In Disney movies, particularly, I was absolutely astonished to see that Disney chose to include such horrifically sad moments in his storytelling. We were watching a CARTOON and suddenly there was death and heartbreak and I was FEELING it!! I wanted to reject it, fast forward to the fun cute happy parts. I was disturbed by it. But as I was exploring my own work as an adult, I realized that it was that duality I was feeling and that I wanted to talk about. I love beauty and I love happiness, but I wouldn’t have either if I didn’t have the opposites and everything in between…This new body of work was inspired by the notion of good vs. evil, and the fairytale-like memories of being a kid. I painted what it felt like to be happy and innocent and naive and then to discover certain truths about the world and reality." This idea of yin/yang forces is expressed in several paintings from her latest exhibition. Lynrose depicts a bright pink gingerbread house set among a forest filled with candy canes and ice cream. While it looks positively charming at first, several ominous-looking skeletons are creeping up onto the house, and a closer look reveals that even the tree and shrub next to it have skull-like faces.

The title piece also seems utterly harmless initially: it shows a group of jolly, red-cheeked snowmen enjoying some frozen treats. But then you notice the trees in the background are dead, and the ice cream container has a faded skull and crossbones.

(images from coreyhelfordgallery.com)

Despite the darker imagery in these paintings and others, by and large snowmen represent feelings of happy nostalgia for Milne. She explains, "The snowman is the jolliest fellow! My mom LOVED Christmas – she would transform the house with tinsel and knick knacks and vintage decor, Christmas music would be playing on the big family stereo and it was such happiness for me as a kid. It was a wonderland!! All these years later, I find myself trying to illustrate that feeling – trying to recreate it in my work. The snowman tchotchke was a rare find in the house (there were plenty or reindeer and angels and Santa’s to be found), but I remember specifically adoring what snowmen figures we had, and probably hoarding them from my siblings. The snowman best represents that spirit for me...I wanted that Christmas wonderland to last all year round!" (Interesting side note: Milne also enjoys drawing snowmen since she her favorite shape is a circle – "it has no harsh corners". I suspect this is also the reason for so many paintings featuring Humpty Dumpty, her love/hate relationship with his character notwithstanding.)

(images from coreyhelfordgallery.com)

While many of Milne's paintings represent the concept of duality, sometimes they're simply whimsical and joyful, with nary a menacing skeleton or dead tree to be found – just unbridled sweetness. "Wide-eyed and maniacal, I try to capture the feeling of pure happiness and bliss as a kid." I couldn't find anything dark or upsetting in the Sugarpill palette or in these paintings.

I'm particularly struck by the maraschino cherries scattered about in this one. They just look so succulent and juicy. Milne greatly enjoys painting these too: "I can't stop painting cherries and all I want is for everything to be translucent!"

(images from brandimilne.blogspot.com)

I love these since they remind me of characters from children's books, which makes sense given that Milne has illustrated one, not to mention all the delicious treats. You know I'm all about sweets as well as childhood nostalgia since my own was so happy. Milne's reminiscing about her mother's holiday decorations, coupled with the imagery in the paintings, instantly transport me back to celebrating various holidays with my family. (In particular I'm remembering this adorable ceramic ghost with a red face my mom put out for Halloween, and a beautiful ceramic Christmas tree with multi-colored lights…if it wasn't out of my price range I'd commission Milne to paint a couple pieces featuring these items).

Anyway, while there was an enormous amount of information online, I still have a couple unsolved mysteries surrounding Milne's work. First, I'm curious to know about the German references.

This little lamb seems to be wearing a traditional Alpine hat.

There are German words on the script in Strutter.

And this poor little snowman is saying "ouch" in German, while in Long After This a sad pumpkin begs "love me".

Milne herself was also recently photographed wearing what appears to be a dirndl.

(images from brandimilne.com)

I suppose it could be related to fairy tales, since the most famous ones in the Western world come from the Brothers Grimm. Or perhaps Milne has a German background or just appreciates German culture. Whatever it is, I'm surprised I didn't come across any explanations for it.

The second item that left me scratching my head was how the collaboration with Sugarpill came about. I'm assuming Sugarpill reached out to Milne first and they went from there, but it would have been nice to hear more about the process, the inspiration for the palette (who thought of a cat theme?) and how the artwork was created to reflect it. I watched this video of a studio visit and read about Milne's artistic process, so I know a bit about how she operates, but I imagine things might be a little different when a commission for a makeup company is involved. At least we know the artwork was an original piece made just for Sugarpill.

That was pretty long despite my best effort to condense everything I found while also trying not to leave out any major points regarding Milne's work. So if you're still reading, thank you! Overall, the Sugarpill palette is a wonderful addition to the Museum's artist collaboration collection and also helps make up for the fact that I failed to nab the Trinket lip gloss from 2016. I enjoy Milne's work so much I may have to ask Santa for a book of her work. ;) I feel as though I gravitate towards it since we're about the same age – we grew up with the same toys, Disney movies, cartoons (and even had similar holiday decorations!) and also because we had happy childhoods. And obviously I love any artwork featuring delectable-looking sweets.

What do you think?

I came across this article detailing an example of an unsolicited museum donation, and it got me thinking about how this would apply to the Makeup Museum. Let’s explore the pros and cons of such donations for a cosmetics museum, shall we?

In the 9 years I’ve been running the Museum, it has received a handful of amazing, completely unsolicited donations, two of which I haven’t even posted about because they were so huge and I’m still in the process of adding them to the inventory and photographing everything. Some very kind people bestowed hard to find or vintage items in great condition simply because they were going to throw them out, but instead they took the time to do a little research and discovered the Museum might be a good place for these items instead of the trash. I must say I’ve had good luck so far with unsolicited donations – no one has sent me beauty items that are in such poor condition that they really do belong in the garbage. (No one has even requested that I reimburse them for postage, which blows my mind! I’ve offered, but they all turned me down.) Even though I usually have no idea what I’m getting when people offer to send me things – very few take photos and just offer a brief description – I have no problem digging through the items once they arrive and throwing them out if they really are trash. And as I’m always trying to grow the Museum’s collection, right now I have a favorable opinion of such donations. It’s not often you can get quality items for free, so these unsolicited donations essentially mean collection growth without spending a dime of my own money. Indeed, several prominent museums have had help in growing their collections via unsolicited donations as well. As the director of the institutional history division at the Smithsonian remarked in this article, “We built our collection with amateur collectors.”

Another pro of an unsolicited donation is that even if I can’t use it for the collection, it at least provides research and/or blog post fodder. I like to think of donations as opportunities for other aspects of museum expansion, as sometimes these items can lead me to look into vintage brands or trends I hadn’t explored before, or even exhibition concepts. For example, the Stila memorabilia donations I received sparked the idea of doing a whole exhibition on Stila girl illustrations. (Still working on it, obviously!)

Finally, for established organizations unsolicited donations can also lead to good press and increased visitor engagement. This article in Nonprofit Quarterly discusses an unsolicited donation that a museum could have used as PR opportunity and a way to interact with more visitors (although I do understand why the museum didn’t follow through with it). While right now the Makeup Museum doesn’t have any real PR to speak of, if it was an actual museum I’d absolutely pass along unsolicited donations to my PR team and education/engagement staff and see if they could do anything with them.

Now for the not-so-good aspects of unsolicited donations. Most museums have policies in place clearly stating that they cannot accept unsolicited donations that are left at the doorstep or sent through the mail, and for several good reasons. First, and probably most important, unsolicited donations can present a host of legal problems. State laws regarding abandoned property vary, so museums have to determine whether they can legally own donations that were left or sent anonymously. Not only that, while the donation is monetarily free, the donor may put burdensome conditions in place, such as having the item on display at all times. This makes the legal aspects of the deed of gift more complicated, and the conditions themselves may be more trouble than the donation is worth. Plus, some pieces have questionable provenance, especially those where the donor refuses to say how they acquired the item or even give their name – no museum wants stolen or fake works in their collections because, again, this could lead to an epic litigation nightmare.

Second, unsolicited donations require an incredible amount of experience in handling extremely delicate situations. If a donor is turned down, the result may be a permanently damaged relationship that could affect other donations. Not only does museum staff want to avoid hurt feelings, as donors can be very attached to an object and may take the rejection personally, but the donor may have something else of value that they are now not willing to part with. As this Wall Street Journal article explains, “Responding to inquiries for donations requires considerable tact, if for no other reason than a collector offering one unwanted object may have one or more others in which the museum would be far more interested…museum officials attempt to learn something about the person making the offer, because they don’t want to close the door on a relationship that might yield other benefits.”

Third, unsolicited donations can be logistically difficult for a small museum that doesn’t necessarily have the resources to sift through everything that gets left outside their door or in their mail. Even if the item proves worthy of the museum’s collection, the accessioning process takes a considerable amount of time. Additionally, the museum may not have the storage space or ability to conserve the items. While mostly applauding the unsolicited donation of goldfish to a museum’s pond (literally someone just smuggled a bunch of fish onto museum property and dumped them into the pond without consulting any staff), the Nonprofit Quarterly article notes that the fish ended up dead since the pond wasn’t the right environment for them. If a museum can’t properly care for a donation for whatever reason, it actually does more harm than good.

Finally, the museum’s focus is also a reason that unsolicited donations are tricky to handle. In the case of the Peabody Museum of Natural History, donated animal carcasses to be taxidermied or otherwise preserved by the museum present a safety hazard if the critters succumbed to rabies or carried dangerous parasites. On a less deadly side, I’d imagine a fashion museum would have to take special care in ensuring the donated garments are free of moths and other insects, lest they spread to the rest of the museum’s collection and destroy it.

In light of all these challenges, many museums have very clear policies in place that help protect them against the potential pitfalls that unsolicited donations present. As for the Makeup Museum, right now I don’t think I really need an official policy, since 1. it’s not like I’m getting bombarded with donations so I can handle the amount; 2. legally I can’t get into trouble for accepting items or throwing them out since the Museum isn’t an actual institution – it’s really a situation of one person gifting items to another. (At least, I don’t think I can be sued or anything like that…any lawyers want to weigh in?)

However, should the Makeup Museum ever become a real organization, it would investigate unsolicited donations on a case-by-case basis and maintain a public policy that all staff is well-versed in. I’d definitely require a form of some kind to be filled out online and have hard copies available in the case of in-person drop-offs. I’d also follow the standard guideline that most museums have posted – I might even use this exact language from the Chicago History Museum and the International Spy Museum cobbled together, since it’s perfect (why reinvent the wheel?): “The Museum does not accept donations through the mail or in person unless prior arrangements have been made with the appropriate curatorial or collection staff member. All unsolicited donations sent via the mail will be returned to sender. The Museum reserves the right to dispose of unsolicited items.” Storage space shouldn’t be that much of an issue since makeup items are generally small. Currently I’m running out of room, but that’s only because I’m trying to keep the collection in my home – if I had a large dedicated space, it wouldn’t pose too much of a problem (unless the donation was something like salon furniture or oversize props…still, if Paul & Joe wanted to donate those giant cat lipsticks they used for their events, I’d take them in a heartbeat, lack of space be damned). As for health hazards, I can see that used makeup is kind of gross, but most likely it doesn’t pose a threat as the items can be somewhat sanitized and no one would actually be using them – they’re just being displayed. The only things you’d have to be really careful with are hair-related items, i.e., I’d think twice about accepting a used vintage hairbrush or other accessories, as an outbreak of lice is not desirable.

There are many potential issues with unsolicited donations, but I believe that if a museum sticks to their policy and ensures their staff understands it, the benefits greatly outweigh the risks. As Jody Ochoa, Director of the Idaho State Historical Museum emphasizes, “If we don’t know anything about an item, how can we take it? Having a good solid policy is really key, and it protects everyone, including the volunteers.” My current job also forces me to handle sensitive situations on occasion, so I think I’d be equipped to gently and tactfully negotiate or turn down a donation – hopefully there wouldn’t be any burning of bridges with donors for me.

What do you think?

Baltimore's City Paper is shutting down, but before they go I was delighted to see this article on a local artist who paints with makeup. Gloria Garrett calls herself the "mother of makeup art", which I think makes her the ultimate Makeup as Muse. By complete coincidence, she also happens to live roughly a mile away from me on the same street! Smalltimore indeed.

Garrett, a 57-year-old artist and mother of three daughters, is entirely self-taught and creates, as she says, "folk art for the folks." Garrett worked for the National Security Agency for most of her life, but was always drawing on the side – primarily black and white drawings made with pen. It wasn't until 2005, following the tragic murder of her 18-year-old nephew, that she started painting in color. From the City Paper profile: "'I said, 'God, please let me have color in my life,' she says. And then she dreamed that God said she was going to be a painter, but she's allergic to paint. Then her mother gave her some makeup, and a light went off in her head." Garrett began showcasing her work at farmer's markets for donations. She would allow people to take her pictures and pay whatever they thought was fair. Later she turned to YouTube to not only help promote her work but also highlight the work of other area artists and provide tips on marketing. She also shares videos of her travels and her experiences within the Baltimore art scene. I love this one, which shows her painting on the steps of the American Visionary Art Museum (a must-see if you're ever in town). I also love that her photographer husband shoots all of her videos. Hooray for supportive spouses!

Thematically, Garrett's works range from family life and religious scenes to still lifes and depictions of Africa.

I had my eye on one of these two paintings, as they are relatively affordable. Alas, when I wrote to her to find out what kind of cosmetics she used (looks like mostly eye shadow, foundation and lipstick to me), my email bounced back. I am so sad since I also offered to donate some very lightly used makeup and brushes I'm no longer using and asked for a mailing address where I could send a box of items. I also wanted to see whether she'd be interested in doing a commissioned piece…I was thinking if I sent her a photo of my vanity, perhaps she could make a painting of it with makeup.

(images from gloriasart.com)

Garrett has adopted a fairly loose application technique in that she often applies makeup straight from the package/tube and uses a variety of simple tools. Everything from her hands to plastic forks is fair game. In 2014 she discovered lip gloss, which she likes to add to her paintings on occasion to "give them a shine". According to City Paper, "She uses rouge, base, eyeliner, crayons—even nail polish. When she paints, she starts putting materials together around 10 p.m. and gets going by midnight. 'And I'm usually not done 'til 10 the next morning!' she shouts, smiling. 'I put my makeup in front of me, my Wite-Out, my crayons, and God works through me.' She spends hours on the backgrounds, she says, and moves to the faces last: 'I do the face. I put the Wite-Out over it, I say I don't like it, and I do it again. And again. And again!'" This process of crossing things out and repetition sounds a bit like Basquiat, no? However, the finished product, stylistically, reminds me a little of various early 20th century artists but with a folk art vibe. The flowers look a little like some of Emil Nolde's floral paintings, while the figural ones resemble Chagall or Matisse.

To sum up, I'm thrilled that one of the first artists to ever create paintings with makeup is a Baltimore native. I find Garrett's work to be absolutely charming and unique – her folk art style is very different from that of other artists we've seen who use beauty products as their medium. And I'm so happy to see that she was able to turn to cosmetics to create the colorful art she wanted to make when faced with the challenge of being allergic to paint. Makeup saves the day! I'm just sad I can't get in touch to ask her more specific questions about her artistic process, as my emails keep bouncing back and I also can't find a mailing address to donate some items. (Garrett is on Facebook but I am not, so that route is out, and there is a phone number listed on her website but my anxiety prohibits me from attempting a call – the phone is way more intimidating for me than email).

What do you think?

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As soon as I saw this adorable lip balm at various blogs I ordered it immediately from Sephora. It doesn't really get any cuter than this – a sparkly pink strawberry-scented lip balm in the shape of a flamingo pool float, plus a reference to one of the greatest films of the '90s?! Yes please.

Another precious detail is the flamingo-shaped "F" in Felicia.

Our mini Babo loved it and asked if I could fill the bathtub so he could take it for a proper spin.

Totally harmless, right? Alas, this seemingly innocuous lip balm has stirred up controversy: looks like it's another case of cultural appropriation. If you've spent any time online over the past few years you know that "Bye Felicia" has become a popular meme used to dismiss other interwebz users. And you may remember how pleased I was to see this phrase take off in numerous other ways, given my love of '90s pop culture and the 1995 film Friday that gave us these two simple words. The meme was the inspiration for the lip balm, according to Taste Beauty's managing partner Alex Fogelson, who told Women's Wear Daily that Sephora approached them to "collaborate in a really fun, pop-culture-inspired fun and young item." (Taste Beauty is a relatively new company, having been founded in 2016 by three executives who used to work at Lotta Luv, the brand behind some bizarrely flavored lip balms.)

That seems okay, until you realize that the "Bye Felicia" meme Taste Beauty is referencing with their lip balm may actually be a form of cultural appropriation in and of itself. Let's take a look at the original clip, which, if I'm being honest, still makes me laugh. (I also love Smokey's "remember it, write it down, take a picture, I don't give a fuck!" Classic.)

Impeccably delivered, it's a funny line that wasn't even in the script (apparently Ice Cube's son came up with it)…but as it turns out, Felisha is a crackhead. To a clueless white person such as myself, I thought she was simply an annoying, mooching neighbor. For "bye Felisha" to take off as a meme, I guess there were other people who accidentally (or perhaps intentionally) overlooked that aspect of Felisha's character. Or worse, many people using the meme were totally oblivious to the original source. As this article on white people's inappropriate use of black slang notes, "What’s amazing though is that over the last year [2015] or so, so many white people and non-black people have used [Bye Felicia] (as a sassy dismissal) without actually knowing where it’s from." Also, the spelling of Felisha's name morphed into "Felicia", I'm assuming to make it more palatable to white people. As Fayola Perry writes in XPress Magazine, "Cultural appropriation sanitizes and spreads lies about people's culture. It takes away the story of Felisha, the addict who represents and symbolizes so many black and brown women's struggle with drug addiction in that era and makes her a passing internet trend. This lack of attention to detail can perpetuate racist stereotypes. Someone may think they are paying homage to someone's culture and the person whose culture they're paying homage to is completely offended at the misrepresentation. Fear not, you can enjoy a great burrito if you are not Latino and do yoga if you're not Indian, but be thoughtful, check your privilege and be considerate of context and history. Everyone has some type of privilege, people of colour appropriate each other's cultures as well. We must all be mindful of our lens, other people's perspectives, the legacy of oppression and try our best to make sure that we are not continuing it. At the very least, know where the appropriated element came from and at the very, very least, spell her name right. It's Felisha, not Felicia."

So while I was overjoyed to see the phrase take off as a meme given how much I love Friday, turns out I should have been aware that it was a form of whitewashing, since it seems that the vast majority of people using it don't know where it originated. Or in my case, had no clue about the more serious implications of Felisha's character and her dismissal. In reading more about the history of the film and that scene in particular, I don't think anyone involved with Friday intended the phrase to be perceived as anything other than comic relief, but now I can see how it can be viewed as a microcosm of the bigger issue of black women's needs continually being ignored.

In turn, if we're arguing that the meme itself is a form of cultural appropriation, then the lip balm is as well, since it's directly referencing the meme and obviously not the original source. I mean, Felisha didn't wear makeup¹, and flamingo-shaped pool floats didn't make an appearance in the film as far as I know – this lip balm really has nothing to do with Friday. A succinct reaction comes from this Twitter user: "It's time for black brands to start monetizing our shit. But we're not corny enough to slap bye Felicia on some lip balm all outta context." Blogger Aprill Coleman explains further: "Felisha was an accurate representation of black culture in the early 90s on the heels of the crack epidemic. Taste Beauty’s use is completely out of context. Felisha is an African American, crack-addicted character that did not wear makeup, whereas Felicia is a brightly colored flamingo shaped like a pool float. A tiny part of my black American culture was appropriated, reinvented, and packaged into a strawberry scented balm for profit." Coleman also astutely points out that two of the three Taste Beauty founders are white men, so it's possible that the company, like so many others, wasn't fully aware of the phrase's origins; they just saw the meme and thought an alliterative novelty lip balm with the same name would be marketable. And if Taste Beauty did know where it came from and still wanted to go ahead with the product despite the potential for offensiveness, perhaps they could have donated a portion of the sales to Angie's Kids. This is a nonprofit founded by Angela Means, the actress who played Felisha, that focuses on health and early childhood development. (Side note: I would seriously love to get her thoughts on this. She seems okay with the phrase's popularity but I'm not sure about the lip balm.)

So where does that leave us? Well, on a personal level I feel like a jerk for buying it and also for not understanding, quite literally for the past 3 years, that the "Bye Felicia" meme was actually white people appropriating yet another piece of black culture – I honestly thought it was a widespread, '90s-nostalgia-fueled, long-overdue tribute to Ice Cube's legendary diss. As someone who sees herself as a feminist, which means being aware of the struggles of WOC, my ignorance is rather troubling.² As for the item's inclusion in the Museum's collection, I will likely not display it unless I'm doing a more educational exhibition on cultural appropriation in cosmetics. In addition to the ads explored in my 2013 post on the topic, sadly there are tons more examples since then that could be provided.

What do you think about all this? Have you seen Friday and if so, do you find the "bye Felisha" scene funny?

¹ Interestingly, the actress who played Felisha cites the makeup artist on set as the one responsible for helping her fully inhabit Felisha's character. The somewhat haggard look was entirely intentional. She notes in an interview: "What was funny was when I got on set the makeup artist looked at me and she was like, ‘O.K.,’ and she kind of went with my look and when we got to the set (“Friday” director) F. Gary Gray looked at me and was like, ‘Whoa, whoa, wait, wait. She’s not a beauty queen.’ I give the makeup artist so much credit for helping me create Felisha…So when I got in the makeup artist’s chair, once Gary said, 'No, she’s a hoodrat,' we went back to the drawing board and I fell asleep. But when I woke up and saw myself, it clicked. It helped me go there."

² Equally problematic is that I've been rewatching the clip and still think it's hilarious – proof that white privilege is real. I'm able to ignore the broader issue of dismissing black women and perceive "bye Felisha" as comedy.
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I read Face Value: The Hidden Ways Beauty Shapes Women's Lives when I was at the beach over a month ago, devouring it in one sitting. But it took me forever to write something at least approximating a review. As you may know, my book reviews often sound like a 4th-grader's book report rather than actual writing, and since I admire Autumn Whitefield-Madrano, author of Face Value so much and have been an ardent fan of her blog for years, I didn't want to do my usual sad review. I finally decided to bite the bullet and share my thoughts on this book, simple though they are, because I want my readers (all 2 of you) to know how excellent it is.

I was so very excited to hear via Autumn's blog that she was writing a whole book! Naturally I had high hopes, and she exceeded my expectations. The general aim of Face Value is to gain a better understanding of the role beauty plays in women's everyday lives, something the author achieves through a combination of scholarly research, interviews with a diverse selection of women, and her own insightful analysis of beauty culture.

I was really curious to see how Autumn would handle the perspectives of women who are not white, straight and middle-class, as this would be my chief concern if I were undertaking a book about the relationship between women and beauty. I should have known she'd be on top of it though – right off the bat, even before the introduction, she included an author's note about her effort to interview women "demographically unlike" herself and identify the commonalities that exist in terms of beauty regardless of their ethnic/racial/class/age/sexual orientation differences.

The first chapter explores how, despite science's best attempts, we are unable to decisively quantify human beauty, and also why we even want to measure it in the first place. Autumn carefully examines research by evolutionary psychologists, biologists, and other scientists, all of whom try to (unsuccessfully) identify specific features that make someone perceived universally as attractive. The thigh gap, waist-hip ratio, the pencil test (something I'm guilty of conducting every year on my birthday since I turned 30), facial symmetry – all were invented as supposedly indisputable methods of calculating beauty. Autumn points out the flaws with most scientific studies and standards for determining beauty and how, on occasion, they even contradict one another. She concludes that the inability to quantify beauty isn't necessarily a bad thing: "quantifying beauty can alert us to the places where we instinctually challenge beauty norms, revealing to ourselves that allure is more multifaceted than hitting all the right neurons " (p.33).

The second chapter discusses the language we use to describe beauty. "Cute" has many more connotations that one would initially consider, and "gorgeous", "pretty", "lovely" and "beautiful" all signify different things. The author details the significance of beauty vocabulary and how we have the power to change our notions of beauty through the descriptors we use. Chapter 3 was my favorite, as it provided an in-depth analysis of why we wear makeup and the various ways, positive and negative, our decision to wear (or not to) is viewed in society, as well as how makeup fits into the larger notion of beauty. Autumn gets down to the nitty-gritty by asking the age-old question, "Is makeup quite literally a tool of the patriarchy, or an instrument of women's self-articulation?" (p. 87). There are a multitude of reasons we wear or don't wear makeup, and one is no more or less valid than the others. She ends the chapter by noting how makeup can be a way of challenging our comfort zones and, by extension, questioning the bigger meaning behind these zones. And she absolutely hit the nail on the head: posting a picture of my bare-faced self online is unthinkable for me; for my non-makeup-wearing sister, putting on a full face of cosmetics is totally out of her realm. What do these polar opposite approaches to makeup indicate about our feelings towards our various public and private roles in life?

Chapter 4 covers how notions of beauty shape our romantic relationships and dating. While maintaining the quality of the other chapters, I didn't find it quite as relevant since I'm an old married lady and the thought of dating makes me shudder. Again though, it's well-written and researched, I simply had a personal preference for other chapters. Chapter 5 investigates the double-edged sword beauty becomes in relation to other women. Beauty can be a bonding mechanism and a way to form meaningful friendships. At the same time, perhaps "beauty chatter" is just another way of enforcing traditional femininity. Beauty notions can also lead to fierce competition in terms of both self-esteem and men's attention (in the case of straight women, anyway). However, the conflation of beauty with other desirable traits, i.e., charisma, confidence, sex appeal, etc., or, as Autumn says, "masking life envy as beauty envy", can actually be helpful once one recognizes that it's not beauty they're coveting but some other attribute.

Chapters 6 and 7 examine the impact of the media's images of women and the influence of social media on self-representation, respectively. These were my next favorite chapters since I'm always up for a discussion of beauty advertising along with a more general critique of women's magazines, TV, blogs, etc., not to mention that I basically live online and am always thinking about how to best present myself to the world. Chapter 7 is particularly notable in that it delves into the recent online trend of men requesting feedback on their own, ahem, erotic photos (read: dick pics) in which they turn the male gaze on themselves, and also traces the rise of the male grooming industry and its implications for what we expect of a man's appearance. Autumn argues that instead of being an equalizer, the surge of products being offered specifically for men is actually harmful for both genders: "we create a separate sort of beauty myth for men…we're giving men the same old scripts. We're content to shunt the possibilities of 'hope in a jar' into a reservoir of conventional masculinity…in doing that, we shut down one possible route of bettering the lives of women, too." (p. 195-6).

The last chapter studies what the author calls the "therapeutic beauty narrative", or the story of how a woman's relationship with her looks evolves over her lifetime. Specifically, it explores how women (sometimes) arrive at a place of peace with their appearance, as well as how cosmetic companies have seized on the opportunity to exploit the narrative to sell more products. The book's conclusion explains why the topic of beauty is important and emphasizes that it should be taken seriously. While we can assume that most of the audience for this book already recognizes this, it doesn't hurt to have a reminder of the tremendous impact it has.

I may be biased, but overall I thought this book was fabulous. Both eloquent and humorous (I literally LOL'ed at some points), Face Value is a thoughtful approach to beauty and helps us understand our individual relationships to it. I must say it's downright awe-inspiring how Autumn was able to seamlessly intertwine heavy-duty scientific research, interviews with women from various backgrounds and personal anecdotes to create a compelling, cohesive analysis of how beauty affects women's day-to-day lives. Go and buy it!

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It's my opinion that any time a company does a cartoon-themed collection meant for adults, they have to be careful not to veer into kiddie territory. It's tricky when collaborating with, say, the likes of Disney, and sometimes it goes a bit juvenile. But other times brands pull it off well, and Paul & Joe has consistently been able to elevate themes and characters we usually associate with childhood. This is the case with their latest collection, which features Looney Tunes favorites Tweety and Sylvester along with infamous cat and mouse duo Tom and Jerry. While I'm not the biggest fan of either of these – I wasn't really into Looney Tunes as a kid, and if Tom and Jerry were on before school I'd watch them on occasion but definitely wasn't obsessed – I still thought the collection was Museum-worthy because Paul & Joe did another great job making such things seem perfectly acceptable for a grown-up to own. 🙂

Set against Paul & Joe's signature chrysanthemums, Tweety and Sylvester appear a little more refined than how we're used to seeing them while still engaging in their usual hijinks.

Tom and Jerry also partake in their typical shenanigans (Tom luring Jerry with a chunk of cheese), but are also depicted, appropriately enough, playing with makeup.

I love this little detail on the lipstick cap.

The Looney Tunes makeup collection isn't completely out of left field, as it's basically an extension of the Warner Bros. collab from Paul & Joe's Sister line.

(images from paulandjoe.us)

The Looney Tunes collection was even more extensive and included characters other than Sylvester and Tweety.

At first glance I thought the print on this dress was the same as the one on the compact, but if you look closely you can see Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny.

There was also a men's capsule Looney Tunes collection.

(images from paulandjoe.us)

Anyway, my only complaint was that none of the Tom and Jerry scenes featured the fancy white cat. From what I remember watching as a kid, there was this super glam lady cat that Tom had a crush on. I don't think she had a name but I loved her! I think my obsession with long eyelashes was influenced in part from this very chic kitty.

(image from dreamsofawardrobe.blogspot.com)

This image of her doing her nails, for example, would have been perfect.

(image from youtube.com)

What do you think? Did you pick up anything from this collection?

Initially I was confused as to why MAC chose troll dolls as a collection theme. Yes, a resurgence of all things ’90s is upon us, but it still seemed strange to resurrect the troll doll fad. It only made sense when I got wind of the new Trolls movie, which releases this November.

Naturally I love how obnoxiously bright the packaging is.

The image on the boxes is the signature crazy troll hair.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen makeup with a troll silhouette imprinted!

Glitter caps!

Now for a little history. The original troll doll was created by a Danish woodcutter named Thomas Dam in 1959. Too poor to afford a Christmas gift for his daughter, he carved her a troll figure out of wood instead. Pretty soon the doll was the talk of the town, and the Dam Things company began producing trolls made of plastic in the early ’60s under the name Good Luck Trolls. In the U.S. the troll doll craze hit peak popularity from 1963-65 and came around again in the ’90s. Being the ’90s buff that I am, I felt the need to do a little more research on the renewed interest in trolls. I found a very useful entry on the topic here – while no longer active, this blog is great for anyone needing a dose of ’90s nostalgia. While regular trolls were popular, there were also dolls known as Treasure Trolls that sported jewels in their bellybuttons, and you would rub the belly gem for good luck. You might remember the billikens I looked at earlier this year – one would rub their bellies for good luck, and one of the compacts I included showed a billiken with a jewel in his navel. So maybe the Treasure Trolls were drawing on this tradition? In any case, I just had to include these early ’90s commercials for the Treasure Trolls.

I was hoping to find more about why trolls experienced such a renaissance in the ’90s. Alas, I didn’t turn up much. This article seems to think it was the general ’90s obsession with anything retro, but that’s about all I found.

Anyway, as a collector I was also curious to see if there were any folks out there who had amazing troll stashes, or even museums. Behold, the Troll Hole Museum in Alliance, Ohio! Run by Sherry Groom, the museum boasts a Guinness World Record collection consisting of over 10,000 troll dolls, figurines and other troll memorabilia. It’s the largest troll collection in the whole world.

(image from thetrollhole.com)

And up until recently, there was a Troll Museum in New York City’s Lower East Side. The collection is considerably smaller; however, it was home to possibly the most diverse collection of trolls, including a very rare two-headed troll from the ’60s. Unfortunately proprietor/artist Jen Miller, better known as Reverend Jen, was evicted earlier this summer. Due to health issues she was unable to work and pay the rent. It breaks my heart to think of her collection, so lovingly amassed over 20 years, to be sold or given away. Not only that, since the museum was actually her apartment (tours were given by appointment only) she has nowhere to live now.

(image from artnet.com)

While the Troll Hole may be much bigger, I definitely gravitate more towards Reverend Jen’s collection. We seem to be kindred spirits in our approach to having museums in our homes, and also our “Board of Directors” – she clearly has a sense of humor about it the way I do with my museum staff.

I do hope Reverend Jen is able to get back on her feet. If nothing else, I wish I had known she was getting thrown out of her apartment – maybe I could have at least stored part of her collection somewhere until she was able to find another home.

Getting back to MAC, I thought it was well done. If I was going to design a troll doll-themed collection this is what I would have come up with. Yes, it’s a little juvenile but still loads of fun for those of us who remember the troll fad.

What do you think of the collection? And do you own any troll dolls?

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