It's roughly 6 months past the Makeup Museum's official anniversary back in August of 2023, but it's still technically the 15th year of the Museum's existence so I forged ahead with a small exhibition, the theme of which is the 15 most important objects in the current collection. I originally thought of doing my favorite objects, but let's face it, it would have just been all novelties, mermaids, artist collabs, and food-themed items. It was very hard to narrow down, as all the Museum's objects are important for one reason or another, but there is a good representation. All of them were chosen based on their historical, cultural or artistic significance. I was also sort of hoping it could serve as a prototype or precursor to a larger exhibition that would be expanded to include makeup styles and trends, along with other super important pieces that aren't yet in the Makeup Museum's collection – perhaps a global history of makeup in 100 objects? In any case, happy 15th to the little museum that could!
As with using electronic versions of the labels vs. taking photos of them attached to the shelves, I am puzzled as to why it took me 15 years to figure out it's much easier (and safer for the objects) to take photos when the pieces aren't on the shelves. I also figured I didn't need to re-take photos of objects that already have photos for blog posts or Instagram, so they all look a little different. Ah well. Here we go!
Top shelves, left to right.
Mother and Child painting by Gloria Garrett:
Urban Decay ad and eyeshadow:
LORAC Eye Candy set – you might remember this from the Museum's 2013 Sweet Tooth exhibition:
Revlon Futurama lipsticks:
Second row, left to right.
Beauty spots by Bauer & Black and Johnson & Johnson:
Off-White Paperwork Imprint Box…the box itself is absolutely ginormous so I just picked out a couple objects from it.
Lipstick tissues:
Kohl tube – this was a tricky one! I purchased it on eBay from a seller in India, but I suspect the lettering on the cap is Arabic, not Hindi, so I'm wondering if it really was made in India. I tried running it through Google Translate for images but the translation didn't make any sense. Update, 4/22/2024: Nadja, the brilliant genius behind the best art history podcast ever, kindly translated this! It is indeed Arabic and the word is simply "Arab". Also, there is an illustration of the exact same design on p. 144 of Jolanda Bos' Paint It Black: A Biography of Kohl Containers. That one is in the Musée du Quai Branly and has an accession date of 1982, so we know this design goes back at least to the early 1980s. The provenance for that one is listed as Jordan. All in all I'm guessing the fish-tail design is pretty common throughout the Middle East and India.
Third row, left to right:
Eihodo brush:
Helena Rubinstein Mascara-Matic:
Overton's face powders:
This was a bonus object – since there are 16 shelves I figured I'd throw it in. Behold, the palette that started it all, which also serves as a reminder to check out the Stila girls exhibition. 🙂
Plus, I had to show off the lovely card the husband made since it reflects all the support he's given me and the Museum since it started – he is a hugely important part of the Museum's history! It reads: "Happy 15th anniversary to MuM, Ms. Curator! You are an incredible visionary and academic with your big juicy brain. I love you very much and I'm so proud of you and all your accomplishments." Too sweet.
Bottom shelves, left to right.
NARS Andy Warhol collection:
I thought long and hard about including these very problematic objects. Ultimately they made it in, not despite their overt racism but because of it. The next installment of MM Musings is going to tackle how, or even if, the Makeup Museum should display these sorts of pieces.
Etude House x BT21 palette and lip tints:
Beauty Palette compact, one of my personal favorites. And I know I mentioned all the photos are different, but these are particularly special – as you might have noticed, they are done by a professional! The Beauty Palette was one of 10 objects selected for test shots with the photographer I've hired. Professional photos are a critical part of collection digitization, so consider this a little sneak peek of the process.
In addition to an exhibition, this post also includes an informal history of the Makeup Museum as told by me, the founder and curator. 🙂
Very infrequently I get asked about the impetus for starting the Makeup Museum, so I thought I'd expand a bit on how it began. As stated in the About section of the website, the Makeup Museum was first envisioned as a coffee table book in the early 2000s. It was to be devoted to pretty or uniquely designed contemporary makeup. But I originally became interested in makeup packaging a few years before, in October 1999, when I spotted a cute Stila girl palette at Nordstrom. From then on I began collecting as much as I could afford. Two other factors contributed to this interest in packaging: meeting my husband in 2000, a graphic designer who showed me that everyday objects could be works of art; and the rise of embossed powders and artist collaborations. Up until the early 2000s, embossing wasn't widely used, and if it was, it was fairly crude and not the elaborate designs that came to be. Blogs and forums like Makeupalley.com, whose users often commented that some piece of makeup or another was "too pretty to use", made me think that there should be someone preserving these objects as art, and I loved artist collabs – it's an affordable way of owning a piece of their work, or at least a reproduction. I thought pretty makeup would be a perfect idea for a coffee table book, but the idea of getting it published was overwhelming, and a friend of mine told me to start a blog instead as blogs were at their peak in 2005-2006. As I was mulling that idea over, another hit me like a bolt of lightning: why shouldn't makeup have its own museum? I wasn't even thinking about vastness and importance of makeup history, only the aesthetics of current makeup packaging, but I thought that alone was worthy enough of its own museum. Plus, there really wasn't any specialized museum just for cosmetics in the U.S. Sure, fashion and design museums had a few vintage pieces and there were perfume museums, but nothing only for makeup. I wanted people to look at makeup differently, to see it in a way they hadn't before – not as a mere commodity but mini works of wearable art. I also was dismayed (as I still am now) that the vast majority of folks didn't see makeup as being worthy of a museum. I made it my mission to change their minds.
You can't tell me this isn't art! These all feature the work of women artists.
There was also a personal angle. At the time, I was heartbroken over not getting into doctoral programs and feeling quite lost professionally. I'll spare the sad details, but for a lot of reasons I was not able to carry out the career plan I had in college, which was to be an art history professor or museum curator. My thinking was that if academia and museums didn't want me, I'd start my own thing and have some kind of outlet that wasn't the mind-numbing tedium of administrative work, a.k.a. my day job. Like running a marathon, the Makeup Museum was admittedly set up mostly out of spite, a big ole middle finger to all the rejection I had endured. And it would be a place to both feed my brain and promote the idea of a museum as something other than walls and a static bunch of objects behind glass. Perhaps it was the topic of my Master's thesis that subconsciously inspired me too. Starting a museum with no real experience or resources was very much in the rebellious, DIY punk spirit of Riot Grrrl.
Can't believe it's been 20 years!
In September 2007 I registered the domain for the Museum – only for the dot org, since at the time, it was basically unheard of to register multiple domains for the same company or organization. I wanted it to be very clear the Museum was intended as a nonprofit, not a business or any other sort of entity, so the dot com, dot net, etc. were not registered (a decision that would prove absolutely disastrous over 10 years later.) I then spent nearly a year teaching myself HTML in an attempt to create an online museum, only to surrender in the summer of 2008 and implement the earlier idea of a blog. The three main blogging platforms were WordPress, Typepad and Google Blogger. I made what is in hindsight another unfortunate decision to go with Typepad. While it has served decently over the years, it would have saved so much time and money if the blog had been hosted at WordPress!
Over time, I started understanding the importance of vintage pieces and makeup history more generally. While I enjoyed pulling together seasonal exhibitions featuring newer items, they were lacking in a lot of respects: they weren't very complex and left out quite a bit of important history. The Museum was receiving inquiries on vintage objects and I felt as though an organization focused on makeup had a responsibility to include these in its collection. Social media was eye-opening as well in that the Instagram photos with the most likes were of vintage objects. In terms of research, I noticed so many disciplines (especially art history, my first love – I still try to keep up with the developments within the field) were getting "de-colonized" or going "beyond the canon", and I thought, wouldn't it be great if the Museum could do the same for makeup? While fantastic resources on basic makeup history exist, there is a significant lack of material on lesser known topics, and it seems much of makeup's history hasn't been written yet. I wanted to fill in the gaps, to tell stories about makeup that haven't been told before. This feeling definitely aligned with the Museum's original mission, which was to encourage people think about makeup differently. From about 2012 through 2018 the Makeup Museum experienced a slow evolution from a hobby dedicated to showcasing the newest and prettiest makeup to a more serious endeavor, one that shares an alternative account of makeup history and tackles current topics not covered in-depth elsewhere – but without losing sight of makeup's playful side. During this time I moved the materials for another hobby, making beaded jewelry, from the living room to offsite storage to make room for the Museum's ever-growing collection. While I don't remember the year, I do recall thinking that it was somehow symbolic: the Makeup Museum was no longer another past-time like beading, but a much bigger goal to which I would need to devote literally all of my time outside of work. To execute the vision I had in my head, I needed to give up some other things in my life and make it the highest priority. I have no regrets or resentment; I made that decision willingly. But it was going to be a lot tougher than I anticipated.
Stratton mermaid compact with one of my handmade necklaces
A major turning point came during a life-changing 36 hours in March of 2019. Between approximately 11am on March 17 and 8:30pm March 18, my world basically imploded. Once again I will spare the details, but the rest of 2019 was easily the worst time of my life to date. I was at a crossroads: should I keep going with the Museum or do I throw in the towel? It was the first time I seriously considered packing up the Museum for good. But for reasons I still can't totally explain (outside of my own stubbornness and again, rage/spite) I decided to stay with it. And not only keep going, but make the Museum the best it can be despite all the obstacles and lack of resources.
Around 15 months after those fateful March days in 2019, the U.S. experienced a major racial reckoning. I realized the total lack of diversity and inclusiveness was not at all what I had envisioned for the Makeup Museum, and with that, I began researching ways to alleviate this massive blind spot as much as I could. I also began paying more attention to the other negative aspects of makeup and its history. I don't think I ever shied away from it, but I felt taking a deeper dive into the problematic side of both makeup and museums was critical to the Museum's mission of education and its new focus on helping to effect social change.
In the past 5 years the Makeup Museum became an official nonprofit organization, was awarded a grant, and registered its name as a trademark. And soon there will be a brand new website complete with a digitized collection. I also co-founded an international network for academics and researchers whose work centers on cosmetics. I like to think these achievements help prove the Museum's legitimacy to the naysayers and firmly establish makeup's place as a field of study. For the Makeup Museum specifically, they demonstrate the ability to go from an escapist fantasy and repository for pretty things to a hybrid organization that combines education and exhibitions with activism. My biggest hopes are for the Makeup Museum to re-conceptualize the traditional museum model and lead the way in new academic areas for cosmetics. Ultimately, I would love for the Museum to be a showcase for exhibitions and a soundly researched and comprehensive permanent collection, but also a gallery where makeup artists and other visual creatives can display their work, a research institute, a community center where people can engage in workshops and discussions about makeup, and a space for activism. I also dream of a "beauty pantry" of sorts, where people in need can come and take whatever they want. This post is long enough so I'll expand on these ideas later. 😉
If you're still reading, thank you for joining me on this journey through the Makeup Museum's evolution and I hope you enjoyed the 15th anniversary exhibition!
I was trying in vain to catch up on some beauty news many moons ago and came across this article at Who What Wear – yet another on the history of red lipstick. There were a lot of things that bothered me about it, but the number one offense was the doubling down on the myth of Elizabeth Arden handing out lipstick to suffragettes during a 1912 march in New York City. After recognizing this claim’s veracity was murky at best, the article’s author stated, “I wanted to know more, so I went straight to the source: Elizabeth Arden, the very same global beauty brand founded by the namesake cosmetics maven.” A brand can certainly be used as a source, provided there are legitimate historical records that serve as evidence for their claims. However, in this piece there were many statements made by Janet Curmi, VP of global education and development at Elizabeth Arden, without anything to back them up. “On November 9, 1912, 20,000 women took to the streets of New York to advocate for the right to vote. Elizabeth Arden, a dedicated suffragette herself, opened the doors of her New York spa to hand out her Venetian Lip Paste and Venetian Arden Lip Pencil, before joining the suffragettes marching down Fifth Avenue as a sign of solidarity. The most striking sight was the bold red color on the women’s lips.” The accompanying photo shows suffragettes marching at the May 4, 1912 event (not November)…with nary a one wearing visible lip color. Just for funsies I reviewed some news coverage on the November march.* As with the May march, they describe quite a few details, including the exact route and the women’s clothing, but lipstick is not among any of them.
Women’s march, May 1912
I am very interested to know where Curmi got this information. Arden wasn’t, in fact, particularly known as a “dedicated suffragist.” The legend of her providing lipsticks to marching suffragettes goes back to at least 1999 and names the May 4 rally (see Lucy Jane Santos’s outstanding effort to unravel its history, along with my findings), so November 9 appears to be a new twist on the mythos. Another addition is the reference to Venetian Lip Paste and Pencil specifically being given to suffragettes. As far as I can tell, no particular products were mentioned in the Arden suffragette story until 2021, when author Louise Claire Johnson published a book entitled Behind the Red Door: How Elizabeth Arden’s Legacy Inspired My Coming-of-Age Story in the Beauty Industry. Johnson states that Arden provided Venetian Lip Paste and pencil to the crowds at the November march, but does not cite an exact source: “However, six months later, on November 9, 1012, Elizabeth could no longer sit idly by in silence. Shuttering the salon for the day, she took to the streets and joined 20,000 women, double the size of the previous parade, and advocated for the right to vote. The most striking sight was the bold red color on the women’s lips, as they vibrantly spoke their truth. Elizabeth weaved among the masses handing out her Venetian Lip Paste and Venetian Arden lip pencil in deep red – the original ‘lip kit’. In history, it is often the slightest gestures that become revolutionary. The red lip kits were small, yet mighty weapons – a red pout in place of a middle finger against the patriarchy. Red lips were still considered illicit and immoral, so the women wore them in unison as a rebellious emblem of emancipation. Makeup was no longer a sign of sin but of sovereignty.” (p. 63-64)
While it’s been confirmed that Arden had a line of “Venetian” skincare products by 1912, her lip makeup products were still in development. There was a Venetian Lip Salve advertised in Vogue, but I’m guessing it was a clear or slightly tinted balm and not “paint”, and I could not find any mention of Venetian Lip Paste/Pencil until 1919. Additionally, 2 pages after her claim of the paste and pencil being being handed out, Johnson seems to contradict herself by stating that “after the suffrage parade, [Arden] started introducing makeup products into her Venetian skincare line.” So if the makeup was not introduced until after the parade, how was it handed out? It’s entirely possible Arden was making a prototype of these lip items available through her salons – most likely she was mixing up limited, small batches of makeup to select clients who requested it – but no ads, trademark, etc. for Venetian Lip Paste and Lip Pencil prior to 1919 seem to exist, which leads one to believe that they were not being mass produced and able to be distributed to thousands of people. Perhaps any records relating to the origins of Venetian Lip Paste and Lip Pencil and for that matter, any records of Arden giving them out at a rally are in the mysterious “Elizabeth Arden papers”, which, as one historian explains, are scattered about across the U.S. and not readily available. Still, I find it curious that the company has never provided any documentation that Arden handed out lipstick, and specific products at that. I also reached out to Behind the Red Door’s author – twice – asking for her to clarify where she came across the story of the Venetian lip products and did not receive a reply.
Curmi further embellishes the tale by remarking that mostly because of Arden, suffragette leaders began to wear red lipstick as well. “While turn-of-the-century actresses like Sarah Bernhardt and Mary Pickford helped to bring red lipstick into vogue in 1912, it was Elizabeth Arden who gave it political power, elevating it to a symbol of rebellion and female empowerment…red lips were still considered illicit and immoral at the time, so the women wore them in unison as a rebellious emblem of emancipation and defiance. [Leaders] of feminist movements such as Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Charlotte Perkins Gilman began sporting red lips as a symbol of female empowerment. Since then, red lipstick has mirrored resilient femininity.” Once again, I’m going to direct you to Lucy’s article on the subject, where she points out that Elizabeth Cady Stanton died in 1902. Continuing to wear lipstick 10 years after one’s death would be quite an impressive feat, no?
Finally, anyone who has researched makeup’s rise in the early 20th century understands there were many other factors at play in terms of how lipstick and other makeup became socially acceptable. Yes, wearing obvious makeup was certainly a seismic cultural shift and viewed as rebellious, but it cannot be credited to any one person or movement. “One of the first female entrepreneurs in 20th century America, Arden remarkably turned a $6000 investment into a billion-dollar brand. She opened the Red Door Spa on Fifth Avenue in New York City in 1910 at a time when makeup and cosmetics were considered improper. She was instrumental in changing how the world thought about beauty—the ultimate influencer,” Curmi says. These statements demonstrate the pitfalls of letting a company executive guide the narrative instead of an actual historian, as a brand employee has a vested interest in presenting their business as groundbreaking rather than telling the truth. In this case, not only does Curmi offer no hard proof for the suffragette-related claim, she conveniently leaves out the contributions of other major “influencers” of the time, i.e. Helena Rubinstein, Max Factor and Madam C.J. Walker, to say nothing of smaller brands and figures, technological advances, and economic and political factors other than suffrage. Obviously these omissions make sense as her role is to promote the Arden brand and because the reporter reached out to Arden specifically and not other companies for this article, but they also make for a rather incomplete and biased snapshot of lipstick’s history.
Finally, the subject of makeup and political power is one for another time, but for the record, most early advertising marketed it as a way to better meet white supremacist beauty standards and continue enforcing compulsory heterosexuality rather than for any “empowering” purpose. Once again, nuance is wholly neglected in favor of pushing a feel-good story that serves primarily to buoy a company’s reputation.
I’m ending this post with several requests. For journalists, one: if you must interview brand representatives, please do not rely on them as a credible source for the stories you’re trying to get to the bottom of, unless they furnish documentation from the company’s archives or other legitimate pieces of evidence. Otherwise your article runs the risk of resembling a glorified ad rather than journalism. Two: please choose another makeup topic to cover besides red lipstick (or at least, an angle not focused on cis-het white women’s history). Maybe red lipstick’s fame and status as a “classic” means stories about it get more clicks, but makeup history is so incredibly varied and rich, many other subjects would be of interest to the general public. The last plea I’m making is for the Elizabeth Arden company to show the world a shred of historical evidence that their founder provided lipsticks to suffragettes. We’re still waiting.
*These were all from the New York Times: “400,000 Cheer Suffrage March,” Nov. 10 1912, p. 1; “New States to Lead in Suffrage Parade: Army of 20,000 Expected to Participate in Fifth Avenue Procession,” Nov. 9 1912, p. 22; “Torches in Hair to Guide Parade: Electric Novelties Planned for Tomorrow’s Big Suffrage Demonstration,” Nov. 8 1912, p. 7.
I had way too much fun at the traveling Museum of Failure pop-up, which is currently in Washington, D.C. until November 30. It's exactly what it sounds like: a monument to all the seemingly good ideas humans have had over the years that for one reason or another failed spectacularly. There wasn't too much information readily available – that required downloading the museum's app – and at times the scant label copy was presented far too flippantly for inventions that seriously injured or even killed people. Then there were the "inspirational" quotes from less than savory characters and a disproportionate amount of space devoted to debating whether Elon Musk is a genius (spoiler: he's not. But he is a fascist.) Despite these critiques I enjoyed the show. Plus, it inspired me to briefly discuss some of the biggest makeup fails of the modern era. While there are tons of failures across all beauty categories such as skincare, haircare, fragrance, bath and body products, etc., literally thousands of defunct brands, and a history of toxic ingredients that goes back to antiquity, I narrowed it down to just a handful of what I think are the most notable modern cosmetic fails. Here's the makeup edition of the Museum of Failure!
Kurlash Eyelash Curler
ca. 1923
It's fairly obvious why the first patented eyelash curler did not stick around long. Known as the "bear trap," Kurlash's instrument does not resemble anything one would want to get near their eyes. While it's actually not dangerous per se, as Lucy Jane Santos notes, the lack of cushioning meant an increased risk of tearing out the lashes, or at the very least resulted in a sharp right angle to the lashes instead of a soft upward curve. A new model was produced less than a year after the initial design and became the standard.
For more on Kurlash, also check out Cosmetics & Skin's excellent history.
Drug Detecting Nail Polish
2014-2018
In 2014 a group of 4 students from North Carolina State University proposed a nail polish that would change color upon detecting date rape drugs such as rohypnol in beverages. I'm not even sure where to start in terms of the many points on which this idea failed. The technology wasn't even available, yet the polish, named Undercover Colors, was touted as something that was ready to be put into production. It wasn't until 2018 the group ceded that the technology would not be available any time soon and presented instead the Sip Chip, a coin-sized disk that can detect certain drugs with 99.93% accuracy with just a couple drops of liquid. Still, the myth of the polish persists. Perhaps the biggest misstep is that, as usual, it placed the burden of prevention on the would-be victim. As a sort of epilogue to Undercover Colors, in 2022 a company named Esoes (pronounced S.O.S.) announced a drug detecting lipstick. Clearly undaunted by the backlash surrounding Undercover Colors, the company forged ahead with a liquid lipstick containing drug test strips hidden in the cap and equipped with a Bluetooth connection to call 911. Sigh.
Esoes lipstick in No Means No
(image from esoescosmetics.com)
Glamour Lips Lipstick Applicator
ca. 1940-50s
As we'll see later, lipstick, like mascara, is a fairly straightforward cosmetic to apply. A contraption like this applicator is exceedingly unnecessary and only complicates things. Users were instructed to put a coat of lipstick to the applicator – I'm guessing that was a rather messy process – and then press the applicator to the lips for a perfectly defined pout. I can't locate the one in the Museum's collection at the moment so here are photos from one on Etsy.
(images from etsy.com)
It's baffling that this company believed it could hoodwink women into thinking smearing lipstick on a piece of metal first was somehow easier than applying straight from the tube, or even using a lip pencil to line and/or a brush, especially as both lip pencils and brushes were readily available at the time. Heck, Tussy offered a product called the Stylip, a pen-like device which was obviously much less cumbersome to use. Then again, there is nothing businesses won't do if they think it'll make money.
Honorable mention: this (presumably) earlier version, which worked similarly.
Lipstick applicator tutorial, St. Louis Globe Democrat, June 8, 1941
Calvin Klein Cosmetics
1978-1985
2000-2003
2007-2009(?)
2012-2015(?)
Since the 1920s, nearly every fashion house expands into beauty at some point as a relatively low-effort additional revenue stream. While most fashion designers are able to maintain their grip on fragrances, many struggle to keep a color cosmetics line afloat. The popularity of both fashion and celebrity-fronted makeup lines exploded in the '70s and '80s and many of them, including Halston, Diane von Furstenberg and Ralph Lauren, did not survive. However, I want to highlight Calvin Klein cosmetics, whose failure is interesting because the company tried not once, not twice, not thrice, but FOUR times to sell a color cosmetics line.
Calvin Klein makeup,
Vogue, October 1979
Calvin Klein Eye Color Wash ad, 2001
Ck Calvin Klein Beauty, ca. 2007
(image from cosmostore.org)
CK One Calvin Klein Cosmetics ad, 2012
CK One Calvin Klein Cosmetics ad, 2012
(images from designscene.net)
It's a long and muddled saga for which I hope to give the details someday, but in a nutshell, it seems the repeated failures were largely due to poor management rather than bad products. The cosmetics arm was sold numerous times and had a revolving door of executives. Without stable leadership and a clear, consistent vision for marketing and distribution, it's virtually impossible for any brand to last. Maybe 5th time's the charm?
Lash Lure Eyelash and Eyebrow Dye
1933-1934
The story of Lash Lure is a rather gory one so consider yourself warned. In 1933 a company named the Cosmetic Manufacturing Co. released an lash and brow dye that contained paraphenylenediamine (PPD), a chemical that can cause acute allergic reactions when used around the eyes due to the skin being thinner in those areas. Between 1933 and 1934 the Journal of the American Medical Association reported the cases of 5 women who went blind after using Lash Lure and one more who developed abscesses after using the product, contracted a severe bacterial infection and subsequently died. In 1938 the Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act was finally passed, and the first product it removed from shelves was Lash Lure.
(image from the FDA on Flickr)
The FDA prohibited PPD from being used in cosmetics in the U.S., but it's still widely used in hair dyes; however, the risk of death is considerably lower than in the '30s. The scalp is thicker than the skin around the eyes and less prone to irritation, and if severe reactions like abscesses and infections did occur, there are treatments available. In the early 1930s allergy remedies and most antibiotics hadn't been invented. Having said that, PPD is derived from coal tar, which doesn't seem like a good thing to put near one's eyes in any case.
Automatic Lipsticks
1930s-2015(?)
In doing the research for the presentation I made for the Art Deco Society UK back in March of this year, I came across many fascinating so-called "automatic" lipsticks. They expressed the design proclivities of the time in that they were intended to be streamlined, cutting-edge devices that only took a fraction of a second to open for the busy modern woman. No need to use both hands turning a slow-moving swivel tube or one with a traditional cap – the new automatic lipstick was here to save the day!
I was hoping to get to an in-depth discussion of automatic lipsticks for National Lipstick Day back in July, but obviously that didn't happen. Maybe in 2024.
Anyway, I think there's a reason the swivel remains the most common lipstick mechanism. This is purely anecdotal based on the automatic lipsticks I've added to the Makeup Museum's collection, but they tend to get stuck easily. I noticed that vintage swivel lipsticks still work pretty well despite their age. The automatic ones, not so much; many of the ones available for sale are broken. Additionally, even when they do work as they should, they were really no quicker or easier – for the Coty Periscope and its copycats (Constance Bennett Flipstick and the So-Fis-Tik), for example, I found two hands were still necessary.
Vibrating Mascaras
2008-2009
Vibrating mascara wands existed at least as far back as 2005, but it was around 2008 that the major cosmetic companies began taking the gadget mainstream. Estée Lauder's Turbo Lash was introduced in July 2008, followed by Lancome's Oscillation (with 7,000 "micro-oscillations per second") that fall. Maybelline's Pulse Perfection arrived in spring 2009. Unlike, say, an electric toothbrush, which actually can help ensure a more thorough cleaning, most reviewers agreed that a vibrating mascara does not significantly improve application. It also seems users had to learn how to maneuver the wand carefully so as not to poke their eye or create a mess. As one PR exec explained, "[The customer] needs to understand how to use it." Some makeup techniques are worth putting the effort into figuring out, but mascara application should not require a learning curve – like lipstick, a basic level of application is intuitive. As I predicted, vibrating mascaras were indeed a flash in the pan.
Honorable mentions: Bourjois and Dior 360 Mascaras (2011), which rotated instead of vibrated, and MAC Rollerwheel eyeliner, a.k.a. the "pizza cutter" liner.
Revlon Eye Makeup Glasses
1966-1973
My appreciable nearsightedness greatly impedes my ability to apply makeup – a big reason for switching to contacts 30 years ago. Back in the 1960s, however, contacts were not as commonplace. So what was the gal with glasses to do? Enter Revlon's flip-up magnifying glasses, which were intended specifically for wearing during makeup application. Rest assured I have tried them out, along with magnifying mirrors and such, and nothing works quite like getting about 1-2 inches away from a regular mirror and applying with short-handled brushes and mini-sized pencils (regular sized products prevent you from getting close enough to see what you're doing as the handles keep poking the mirror.) Other companies make similar versions of these glasses today, so I guess maybe they're not a total fail, but trust me when I say there are much more efficient ways for nearsighted folks to apply makeup.
Lipstick Tissues
1930s-1960s
You can check out my post from 2017 for the full scoop on lipstick tissues, but suffice it to say they failed because they were largely useless. To pull in more dollars, in 1937 Kleenex, building on previous patents, invented a solution to a completely fictional problem: the social crime of leaving lipstick traces on linens and towels, or heaven forbid, a woman's (male) significant other. As I noted in my post, there was no reason why one couldn't use regular facial blotting sheets for lipstick as they work just as well – separate lipstick tissues were wholly unnecessary.
I'm a bit hypocritical, however, since I think it might be fun to bring them back. I even had the husband make a little mockup of Makeup Museum branded lipstick tissues. Would you buy these if you saw them in the museum's gift shop?
Honorable mention: Not makeup, but cigarettes with a red tip so as to disguise any lipstick smears.
The Estée Edit
2016
With much fanfare, in 2016 Estee Lauder unveiled a diffusion line targeted at the Millennial generation. Despite an extensive campaign starring the hugely influential Kendall Jenner and a whole brick-and-mortar store in London, the Estée Edit folded roughly a year after its initial launch.
So what went wrong? The official stance was that the Edit didn't sell because Estee Lauder already had Millennials buying their products, so a separate line wasn't necessary: "Estée Lauder created The Estée Edit collection for Sephora to recruit millennial consumers. Simultaneous efforts by the core Estée Lauder brand have recruited millennials via digital and makeup at an unprecedented rate. Therefore, after a year of valuable insights and learnings, we have decided that a separate brand in North America dedicated to recruiting millennials is no longer necessary."
(image from globalcosmeticsnews.com)
Sounds like Estee was just trying to save face. What really happened is that customers saw through their pathetic attempt at being "edgy" to court a younger demographic. Frankly, the Edit reeked of desperation to revamp Estee Lauder as a youth-oriented brand, and customers could smell it a mile away. Devoid of any real innovation or inspiration, the Edit was also out of touch with the needs and wants of Millennials – the whole shebang was basically this classic scene from 30 Rock.
Lipstick Matches
1920s-1950s
As the makeup industry grew exponentially in the early 1920s, companies explored many different designs and packaging. The Parisian firm Fracy introduced "allumettes" lipstick matches around 1924. These single-use items were advertised as being more sanitary than regular tube lipsticks and portable due to their miniature stature. And, like lipstick tissues, they made great hostess gifts or customer freebies for businesses. But were they superior to regular lipsticks? Probably not. Water or saliva was needed to get the dry pigment to adhere so the formula probably wasn't the most comfortable, and the packs sold without a fancy mirrored case negated the "on-the-go" aspect. (I don't know about you, but I find it impossible to apply lip color without a mirror.)
Fracy salesperson kit with sample lipstick matchbooks, ca. late 1920s-early '30s
By the 1950s, companies shifted to advertising lipstick matches not as more sanitary, but a fun way to try new lipstick shades without committing to a full tube.
Still, mini versions of products with the same or similar packaging as their full-sized counterparts proved much more popular for sampling makeup, and they were easier to produce. With all angles of promoting matchbook makeup as better than other designs exhausted, it quietly faded from the market.
Mainstream Men's Makeup Brands
ca. 2000-2008
I'm not going into a whole history of men's makeup here – it's another topic the Makeup Museum will tackle eventually – but I did want to highlight the failure of men's makeup to become as ubiquitous as that for women. Makeup has been worn by all genders for millennia, but you would never know it looking at most 20th century cosmetics. Makeup was advertised as being strictly the domain of women. While it was acceptable for men to wear makeup for the stage and screen, it was largely frowned upon for the average cis-het man. Cosmetic companies managed to profit from men by introducing toiletries such as after-shave, hair gel and cologne and developed entire grooming brands exclusively for men, but color cosmetics were still a no-go. However, much like makeup for Black customers, some of the larger companies launched men's makeup to tap into what they thought could be an additional cash cow. For the most part, unlike other grooming products, big brands' attempts at makeup for men consistently failed. It's not clear when the first men's makeup brand on the commercial market was introduced; there were some individual products such as concealers to cover beard stubble and "after-shave talc" used as face powder as far back as the 1930s, and some brands added one-off men's makeup items to their regular lines – for example, Aramis Bronzing Stick and Mary Quant's Colouring Box in the '70s and Guerlain's Terracotta Pour Homme in the '80s. And there were companies like Biba and Manic Panic and later, MAC, that intended their products to be genderless.
But it seems the first complete lines of makeup for men by a mainstream, non-niche company did not appear until the 2000s in the U.S.* And neither of these are still around. Aramis released Surface in 2000, which contained "correctors" (concealers), a bronzing gel and mattifying gel, followed by Jean Paul Gaultier's Le Male Tout Beau in 2003. Tout Beau was discontinued and relaunched as Monsieur in 2008.
Gaultier Le Male Tout Beau lip balm and concealer/eyeliner pen
Indie brands that were started around the same time such as 4Voo somehow managed to outlast their big league competitors. With so many more resources than small companies, why did Aramis and Le Male/Monsieur fail? I think the industry shot itself in the foot, so to speak. Perhaps if it hadn't spent roughly 100 years and billions of dollars enforcing makeup usage along a rigid binary and making it socially acceptable only for women, more mainstream brands for men would be successful. The modern industry really entrenched the ancient notion of everyday makeup as solely a feminine pursuit, and it's going to take a long time to undo that sort of brainwashing on a mass scale.
So that's just the tip of the makeup failure iceberg. These were interesting, but it's equally fascinating to see what has actually stuck around.
What do you think? And did you ever experience a makeup fail?
*Japan's Kose had introduced a line in Tokyo in 1985, and this hunky gentleman prepared to launch a small brand in 1993, which never came to fruition. Other niche brands included Male Man Unlimited (1980), Marcos for Men (1996), Menaji (1997) and Hard Candy's short-lived nail polish line for men called Candy Man (1997).
(image from soundingsonline.com)
I was doing some digging on Ultra Sheen cosmetics after purchasing a great vintage display for it and stumbled across the name Bill Pinkney, who had a brief stint as a marketing executive for the company. As it turns out, Captain William Pinkney is the first Black man to circumnavigate the globe solo via the five Great Capes. While this is an astonishing feat that very people have accomplished, obviously I'm more interested in how he shaped Black makeup history – specifically, his significant contributions during the late '60s and '70s, one of the eras that witnessed an explosive growth of brands for Black customers. (Another era would be the early-mid '90s, a history I'm still working on.)
Pinkney was born on September 15, 1935 in Chicago. He joined the Navy after high school and discovered sailing while visiting Puerto Rico after being discharged in 1959. He held a variety of jobs during this time, including elevator mechanic, limbo dancer (!) and X-ray technician. As much as he understood the importance of a steady job, boredom crept in.
(image from yachtingmonthly.com)
Around 1963, he began pondering what he could do as a creative outlet that would also pay the bills. Pinkney's friends suggested makeup artistry. In his own words: "Since 1963 I had been working as an X-ray technician at Queens General Hospital. Although it paid well, it was hardly creative, and the creative impulses of my youth were resurfacing: I also longed to sail. As much as I wanted to be an artist, I was following my family's advice to have a good, steady job. Keeping that in mind, I began to look at my possibilities. I still had time left on my G.J. Bill and I wanted to find a job that would be creative yet practical. In the Village one night, I expressed my dilemma to some of my old friends in fashion photography. They unanimously agreed that I should become a makeup artist! I laughed at first – me, a make-up artist? Bur they insisted that it was creative and quite lucrative. If I did well at it, I could also make connections with celebrities. So I decided to take a stab at the beauty industry."
(image from nytimes.com)
Pinkney attended Queens Beauty Institute during the day and continued working as an X-ray technician at night. After passing the New York state exam to become a licensed cosmetologist, he began practicing makeup on any willing participants (mostly friends and family.) Looking to break into film and TV makeup, he found a job for a non-union picture. While it didn't pay much, he was promised both extensive experience and a credit as makeup artist. Pinkney was a bit taken aback when he got to the set and discovered the, ahem, particular type of movie he would be doing the makeup for. "[The job] was in film, all right – soft core skin flicks. The films were shot in black and white, and the make-up wasn't critical, but I got a chance to experiment. I mostly covered blemishes and scars and attached false mustaches and sideburns, which were in vogue at the time. The first film showed in Times Square, and while it was hardly pornographic by today's standards, a group of my friends furtively crept in, wearing turned up collars, hats pulled down over their eyes, and sunglasses. They roundly applauded the credits when my name came up."
(images from imdb.com)
The first TV commercial Pinkney worked on was for the American Tuberculosis Association. Upon realizing he had no suitable makeup on hand to match one of the actresses, he chose to let her go with the makeup she was wearing. "A Black woman came in and I didn't know how to make her up. There were no products with which to make her up. Luckily, she had makeup on already, so I didn't touch it. I just said, 'Beautful makeup, luv.' I was lying, but what could I do? Right then, I realized the need for a color-oriented cosmetics line." The fact that even a Black makeup artist struggled to make up a Black actress demonstrated that the cosmetics geared towards Black customers that existed in the mid 1960s (Posner, Overton's, etc.) were still not meeting their needs, nor was much advice offered in beauty guides. He noted that Max Factor's darkest shade at the time was "meant to make whites look like Blacks," a statement that is backed up by the origin story for Max Factor's Egyptian shade. Pinkney made it his mission to learn about makeup for those with deep complexions, which, as we'll see, proved to be the thing that allowed him to realize his sailing dreams. "If I learned anything that day, it was that I knew very little about makeup. Undaunted, I made it a point to study make-up for Black women, a decision that would eventually serve to get me into the business on a big scale." He joined the National Association of Broadcast Employees and Television union and had more than 150 films and commercials under his belt by 1969. At this time he began working for Astarté, a brand by the very short-lived Spectrum Cosmetics. While he initially got into makeup as a creative outlet, by 1970 Pinkney's outlook shifted towards makeup being more "psychological" than artistic: "Makeup is fascinating because you're working with psychology rather than art…if anyone tries to define beauty, he's opening a can of worms. It's an indescribable thing. It's really a feeling within the individual…ideally, I want to make a woman see how she really is inside – I want to relate to her, to feel what's behind the surface. I'd say I do that kind of makeup job one out of every 50 times. But I shoot for it every time."
There will be a full history of Astarté and its place among the proliferation of Black-focused makeup brands of the time shortly, but for now, some basics: Astarté was a higher-end line catering to the "ethnic" customer and sold in department stores. While the emphasis was on providing quality makeup for women of color, there was a range of foundation shades available – 22, to be exact – that were meant to match every skintone. Twenty-two shades seems like a paltry amount these days, but back then this was a big assortment. Not only that, Astarté organized its foundations from darkest (Nuit) to lightest (Aurore), which, to this day, is still the opposite of how most brands arrange their shades. The brand was also intended to "highlight [the] natural beauty" of Black women in keeping with the "Black is Beautiful" spirit of the late 1960s and early '70s. As noted previously, the vast majority of cosmetics, including non-complexion products like lipstick and eyeshadow, were formulated for white customers and tended to look either completely unnatural or at the very least, unflattering on non-white women. According to Pat Evans, the model who starred in the campaign, most makeup "turned Black women's mouths into neon signs, turned their skin ashen, made their eyes recede."
Pinkney served as Astarté's National Director of Makeup, crisscrossing the U.S. to train salespeople and provide consultations and makeovers at counters. It's a bit of a chicken and egg scenario in terms of Astarte's focus and Pinkney's approach towards makeup – was Astarté influenced by Pinkney's natural aesthetic or vice versa? A 1970 article featuring a makeover of a Detroit resident presented Pinkney as a champion of understated cosmetics. "'A good makeup means nothing about it is obvious. It's a group of subtleties which combine to make you,' he stressed. For this reason he's against shadowing the face to change features such as making the nose seem longer or the lips seem narrower. 'It just won't work except for a model who's being photographed in controlled lighting. Women are seen in many different lighting situations and shadowing just makes them look phony,' he went on." The article continues with more of Pinkney's tips for no-makeup makeup, including using a powder brush rather than a puff for a seamless finish.
(image from nytimes.com)
It's not clear when Pinkney's relationship with Astarté ended, but Spectrum filed for bankruptcy in 1971. Pinkney continued working as a makeup artist, doing magazine editorials such as this spread in Essence. By this time he was also sailing as much as he could.
Incidentally, the products used here were from Ultra-Sheen.
In 1973, "Revlon made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Pinkney said. The company hired him to oversee the marketing for the new line they were planning for Black customers called Polished Ambers. It doesn't seem as though Pinkney was involved in creating the extensive advertising campaign, but he was responsible for ensuring Polished Ambers was well-represented in the media and stores across the U.S. Most importantly, he was Revlon's first Black marketing executive. Polished Ambers hit shelves in early 1975.
Pinkney used his knowledge and experience with Astarté to promote the Polished Ambers line. Echoing the comments of Pat Evans from some 5 years prior, he noted that Revlon carefully formulated the Polished Ambers lipsticks and eyeshadows to avoid the usual pitfalls of products made for deep skintones. According to one article, "Pinkney claims frosted lipsticks need a special formulation for Blacks because the ones on the market give a 'mirrored, chalky effect.' Eyeshadows were given gold undertones for life and vitality, and colors were given depth to to complement dark eyelids." As we'll see in the upcoming history of the brand, Astarté's lipsticks and eye colors were formulated more or less identically.
In the fall of 1977 Pinkney was recruited by a headhunter to join Johnson Products to market their new Moisture Formula line within the Ultra Sheen brand. While this was a lucrative opportunity to work for a Black-founded and owned company, that wasn't the only reason for Pinkney's departure from Revlon: working for Johnson also meant that Bill would finally be able to own his own boat. He recalls, "I had met the head of the company [George Johnson] when I last lived in Chicago; his huge yacht was tied up next to Art's [Dickholtz, Pinkney's sailing mentor] slip at Belmont Harbor. One of the inducements to go back to Chicago was the lure of Lake Michigan and the chance to sail with Art again – and get my own boat. A perk in my contract with Johnson was that they would obtain a mooring if I bought a boat. The chances of procuring a mooring in Chicago harbors were less than winning the lottery." Pinkney subsequently purchased his first boat with the profits of the sale of his Revlon stock.
Pinkney was unceremoniously forced out of Johnson in 1980 after the Moisture Formula failed to produce the profits Johnson anticipated. As told by the Chicago Tribune in 1992: "'It didn't succeed' is one way of putting it,'' says George Johnson, then the company president. 'We were trying to sell an upscale line in drugstores, and it didn't work out.' Johnson rates Pinkney as 'a good guy,' yet not only didn't his line succeed but, Johnson says, he ran afoul of marketing vice president Lafayette Jones, who fired him. 'I got caught in a Friday-afternoon shootout,' Pinkney says."
Still, Pinkney maintains the firing was a blessing in disguise. Reflecting in 1999, he said, "Coming through Revlon, one of the best marketing companies in the country, I had the best training ground. But as I worked for Johnson, I got further away from what I liked, which was creating makeup…I could have stayed in the industry and worked. But I decided it was time to break free." He took a job with the city government in Chicago.
(image via imdb.com)
The rest, as they say, is history. After reflecting on the legacy he wanted to leave behind for his family, particularly his two grandchildren, at age 50 Pinkney "decided he would attempt to sail around the world alone to encourage them to think and do the impossible." Five years later, on August 5, 1990, Pinkney began his adventure from Boston Harbor, returning in June 1992. He continues sailing and has racked up numerous awards and honors, including a lifetime achievement award from the National Sailing Hall of Fame.
I'm so curious to know if Bill ever picked up a makeup brush again after leaving Johnson, or what he would think about makeup for Black customers these days. I also wonder whether, despite his varied interests and intense determination to succeed at anything he tried, his skills at both makeup artistry and beauty marketing specifically allowed him to pursue sailing full time. Could it be said that his dream was fulfilled via the makeup industry? I would reach out for an interview but at the same time feel like I should leave an 87 year-old man in peace!
What do you think? And have you ever been sailing? Despite being a mermaid, I haven't quite found my sea legs – I've gotten sick every time I've been on a boat. Ah well. In any case, stay tuned for histories of Astarté and Ultra Sheen. 🙂
Update, September 1, 2023: I am sad to report that William Pinkney passed away on August 31, 2023. Rest easy, Captain.
Sources
Bennett, Bev. "Test of Time." Press-Dispatch, 25 Apr. 1999, p. 5-7.
Bernardo, Stephanie. The Ethnic Almanac. New York: Doubleday, 1981, p. 341.
Gabriel, Joyce. "Beauty Is Indescribable Thing, Says Executive in National Cosmetics Firm." Kitsap Sun, 23 Oct. 1970, p. 5. (This is a syndicated article that appeared in multiple papers…I don't know how to cite it.)
Grant, Pick. "Race Against Time." Chicago Tribune, 4 Oct. 1992, p.163-165.
Kunz, Mary. "New Hairdo, Makeup for Nancy." Detroit Free Press, 15 Dec. 1970, p. 3-C.
Kushla, Gigi. "Black Cosmetic Industry Competitive." Chicago Tribune, 13 Sept. 1976, p. 60.
Hopkins, Barbara. "Cosmetics Line Designed Specifically for Blacks." Chicago Sun-Times, 9 Sept. 1979, p. 64.
Leiva, Miriam A. Algebra 1: Explorations and Applications. Evanston (IL): McDougal Littell, 1998, p. 322.
Pinkney, Bill. As Long As It Takes: Meeting the Challenge. Piermont (NH): Bunker Hill Publishing, 2006.
Ringle, Ken. "Sailor on History's Seas." Washington Post, 23 Mar 2000.
"The Beauty Part," Women's Wear Daily, 25 Jun. 1976, p. 10.
A long-time Makeup Museum supporter invited me to speak at her organization's Pride festivities! I'm so incredibly honored! I'll be at the Old State House at Delaware State Parks on Saturday, June 10 at 1pm. Details here (and yes, it's free!) Hope you can make it!
Lots going on behind the scenes! Not necessarily a bad thing, but doesn't leave much time for blogging and social media. Realistically Curator's Corner will have to be cut down even further so that it's on a quarterly basis instead of trying to post it monthly…I know I should abandon it entirely but I can't! Anyway, onto some links.
– I learned so much prepping for the Museum's presentation for the Art Deco Society UK. You can check it out here (and see first-hand why I'm not a YouTuber.) I do hope to turn it into an article or maybe an exhibition.
– Another thing that involved quite a bit of research was an interview for El Pais on the history of glowy skin. Meanwhile, my makeup history partner-in-crime weighed in on the unrealistic hair and makeup in period films and TV shows.
– "I don't understand why makeup brands don’t have [women over 40] — we're the face of a lot of things and we're not the face of makeup right now." Allure points out the issue with brands that seemingly cater to the over-forty crowd: namely, they refuse to acknowledge that some mature women (ahem, like me) have not abandoned bright color and other vibrant makeup. Being over forty does not automatically sentence you to focus on hair and skin and wear only minimal, no-makeup looks, and just once I'd like to see a brand feature an old lady with glitter seeped in her wrinkles.
– If anyone can tell me exactly what Sulwhasoo and the Met are partnering for, I would be most appreciative.
– Been spending far too much time on Reddit and should probably cut back, as this post sent my blood pressure soaring. Coupled with this school calling makeup a "drug", makeup is experiencing a backlash. I'm not sure why people can't discuss it with nuance and acknowledge that while it has a long history of being a tool of the patriarchy to oppress cis-het women, makeup is so much more than that.
– Along those lines, I'm still ambivalent about companies selling makeup intended for kids – feels like an indoctrination of sorts into harmful beauty standards – but if they're going to do it, Zara Beauty's Mini Artists line is the way to go. At least they're trying to emphasize the artistic aspects and the packaging/names aren't overly gendered, unlike, say, Ulta's Petite and Pretty. It's also safer ingredient-wise than most kids' makeup and since it's water-soluble, much easier to remove than stuff formulated for grown-ups. Plus, Diane Kendal designed it, so it's quite sleek and stylish compared to other kids' face-painting kits on the market.
– Hate to break it to you, people of Tiktok, but layering mascara is not new.
– Between Isamaya Beauty's LIPS and E.L.F's O Face lipsticks, sexual makeup names (and packaging as well in the case of LIPS) continue to be attention-getters. Admittedly I purchased LIPS for the Museum, but I wholeheartedly co-sign this piece by Jessica DeFino on the ridiculousness of it. (Also, LIPS should be modeled after a vulva, no?)
– Some spring 2023 goodies – three of the five collections shown here were collabs (MAC x Richard Quinn, Clarins x Foxco and Shu Uemura x Nicolas Lefeuvre) so I'll just add them to the pile I hope to cover eventually.
The random:
– In '90s nostalgia, I'm watching Living Single and loving it. Get Hulu if you don't have it already so you can enjoy the hilarity. Also, two of my very favorite movies turned 25: The Wedding Singer and The Big Lebowski.
– If you weren't already petrified of AI taking over the world, let me introduce you to ChatGPT. I fear for the future of both my day job and the Museum.
– This absolutely ludicrous story is literally the plot of a Simpsons episode. Also, please stop throwing things at art, even if the artist was a terrible person.
– So as not to end on a down note, I got some test shots back from a professional photographer for the Museum's collection and they are stunning. Doesn't this little Paul and Joe fellow look extra jaunty?
How are you? How is your spring so far?
I admit I purchased this object without fully understanding what it was.
I couldn't unearth any ads for Opaline1 and very little exists about the company. There were a couple calls for De Baranta-Windsor salespeople in 1898 for totally different products – no mention of beauty preparations, so I had to rely on other clues to suss out what Opaline could possibly be. The substance appears to be a powder in the bottle, but there were a few reasons why I didn't believe it was a face powder upon closer inspection. Namely: 1. powders were normally packaged in boxes, not bottles; 2. the directions instructed the user to shake well and apply with a sponge, and powders did not usually require shaking and were applied with a puff; and 3. the directions also insinuated the product was a liquid by including the phrase "when nearly dry…".
So what exactly was Opaline? Certainly not perfume and most likely not a skincare treatment either. It was clearly some kind of liquid makeup (with the liquid obviously evaporating over time) but not quite foundation as we know it today. Thank goodness for Cosmetics and Skin, as I really didn't know what I was looking at until some frantic Googling led me to their website, which has an excellent summary of the three most common types of "liquid powders" popular at the turn of the 20th century: calamine, wet white and liquid pearl (not to be confused with pearl powder).
Liquid pearl was essentially white face powder mixed with water and glycerin. Despite its tendency to streak, it had several advantages over dry face powder, namely that it lasted longer and provided slightly more coverage. Although the powder component consisted of the same ingredients as face powder (usually zinc oxide or bismuth oxychloride), liquid pearl was used on the body in addition to the face, primarily for evening wear to impart an even, whitening effect on any exposed skin – ideal for the plunging necklines and short-sleeve styles of fin-de-siècle Europe and the U.S. It was also less frequently recommended as a sort of sunscreen for daytime due to the zinc. Sources detailing liquid pearl from the early 1900s align with Opaline. A 1904 recipe instructed the user to "Keep in a tightly corked bottle and apply with a sponge when required,"2 and in 1910 beauty columnist Margaret Mixter advised, "When bottled there will be a white sediment at the bottom, and the preparation must always be shaken before any is put on the face. In applying a piece of muslin or linen should be used."3 Opaline's name, color, packaging, and instructions perfectly match liquid pearl. Compare to others from the time, which were packaged in bottles and claimed to have a whitening effect.
I can't uncork the Opaline bottle due to its fragility, but I was very tempted to try to sprinkle out some powder to get a sense of the texture and opacity. Instead of potentially damaging or breaking the bottle, to sate my curiosity I decided to whip up a batch of liquid pearl using a common recipe – this one appeared in a column by Harriet Hubbard Ayer4 in 1902 and was reprinted in several other beauty guides: "pure oxide of zinc, 1 ounce; glycerine, one dram; rosewater, four ounces; essence of rose, fifteen drops. Sift the zinc, dissolving it in just enough of the rosewater to cover it, then add the glycerin, next the remainder of the rosewater. Shake well and apply with a soft sponge or antiseptic gauze." All ingredients were procured via Etsy.
My measuring may have been off, but the mixture ended up being very thin and watery.
I didn't have any cheesecloth on hand to strain it nor a pretty little bottle to put it in, but I did have plenty of travel containers. After a good shake I used my trusty Beauty Blender sponge (dampened) to apply a thin layer – I was also short on linen, muslin and gauze.
Once applied, it's actually not too dissimilar from today's zinc-based sunscreen lotion in that it leaves a pretty noticeable white cast, even with just a small amount on my pasty skin. Smelled lovely though! And the texture was surprisingly smooth and comfortable. Not as emollient as a lotion, but it didn't feel dry or like it was just sitting on top of my skin. I'm sparing you a photo, but I did try it on my face and neck in addition to my inner arm…looked quite ghostly. I also neglected to take a photo of it in the bottle a few hours after, when it had separated with all the zinc on the bottom – the instructions to shake well were definitely necessary.
Given its unnatural appearance – I can't imagine putting on more layers – I found myself wondering if liquid pearl was commonly worn. Whiteness was (is) highly prized as a beauty standard, and liquid pearl was one way to achieve it, albeit temporarily. As was the case for centuries, the starkness of ultra-white skin wasn't an issue despite being at odds with the "undetectable" makeup that middle-class women were expected to adhere to; the whiter, the better, especially according to ads for liquid pearl. A 1914 ad for a liquid powder called Derma Viva states, "It whitens the skin at once, a single application being most effective. Red, brown or dark complexion – face, neck, arms, and hands – made a beautiful milky white by use of this wonderful beautifier."
Judging from my experiment, liquid pearl doesn't seem like it would look remotely natural on even the palest of skin tones, but it appears whiteness trumped any concerns about liquid pearl's obviousness. It could also be that as there were so few formulations, liquid pearl and other liquid powders were relatively natural-looking by fin-de-siècle standards, or at least, that's what companies wanted customers to believe. Derma Viva notes that it is "absolutely invisible" and "will not show as does face powder," while Mme. Gage's Imperial Japanese White Lily, "a delicate liquid powder for evening use" was also advertised as invisible. "A successfully made-up woman does not look in the least artificial," proclaimed Mrs. Henry Symes, who then followed up this statement by a recipe for liquid pearl.5 Another column from 1903 advises using one of the new "flesh" tinted liquid powders instead of white, but notes that white powders were still preferable to the harshness of theatrical makeup. "Only a few years ago Milady was forced to be content with just two colors of face powder, chalk white and rose. Both of these were easily discernible, for they made her either too red or too pale…Not only are there fifteen tints of complexion powders, but they are put up in different forms to suit different occasions. There are liquid powders, which are to be 'shaken before taken'…at any big entertainment the women may be seen with their faces chalked till they resemble nothing so much as a company of corpses. These women do not bother about preparing the chalk; they simply take a chalk pencil and rub it into the skin with unction, and the more ghastly the result the better they are pleased."6 Given that every liquid pearl recipe dictated careful application with a sponge or other piece of cloth, it seems that as long as women were using it primarily for nighttime and paying attention to how and where they applied it, liquid pearl was an acceptable cosmetic for the average (white) woman.
We also can't discount the fact that electric lighting wasn't totally ubiquitous at the time and liquid pearl was mostly recommended for evening wear, so perhaps it was less obvious in darkened settings. In any case, while some cosmetic recipes hold up today and all the ingredients in this particular concoction are still used in contemporary cosmetics, it appears quite crude by comparison and is best left in the 1900s.
To conclude, I'm 99.9% sure Opaline is liquid pearl, but less certain is whether Mme. De Baranta was a real person. I am skeptical! Perhaps the Cortland Historical Society, which also has this artifact in their collection, could shed some light on the company.
What do you think of Opaline and liquid pearl? And have you ever tried DIY'ing makeup? Believe it or not, this was my first experiment despite all of the recipes that have been printed in various makeup history books and seeing it done numerous times before. I think recreating old formulas would be pretty fun Makeup Museum events. 😉
1There were several instances of liquid powders named Opaline from the late 1800s/early 1900s including one by UK-based Crown perfumery and the Opaline Toilet Manufacturing Company in San Francisco, but no Opaline from the De Baranta company.
2Emily Lloyd, "The Skin: Its Care and Treatment," (Chicago: MacIntosh Battery and Optical Co) 1904, 104-105. The story of this book's author is fascinating by itself – apparently Emily Lloyd was an alias used by Ruth Maurer, who established the Marinello company. Once again, Cosmetics and Skin has all the details.
3Margaret Mixter, "Health and Beauty Hints," (New York: Cupples and Leon Company) 1910, 118.
4"Harriet Hubbard Ayer Responds to Many Inquiries Directed to the Sunday Post-Dispatch," The St. Louis Sunday Post Dispatch, May 25, 1902, 42.
5Mrs. Henry Symes, "How To Be Healthy and Beautiful: Use of Cosmetics for Improving the Complexion's Appearance – When It Is Justified," The Minneapolis Tribune, February 16, 1902. This entire column is a hoot – Symes basically calls out the hypocrisy of men judging women who wear makeup, and states that if they weren't so obsessed with certain beauty standards, women would not feel the need to wear makeup.
6"The True Uses of Powder for the Complexion," Evening Star (Washington, DC), Nov. 14, 1903, 32.
I am so honored to present at the Art Deco Society UK's winter event series! On Tuesday, March 14 at 7pm BST (3pm EST) join the Museum for "Makeup Moderne: Art Deco Influence in Cosmetics Design". Admittedly I knew very little about Art Deco so it's been quite the learning process, but I hope I deliver a good talk. Get your tickets here.
2022 was the year I realized that I shouldn't try to stick to any kind of schedule in terms of blogging or even exhibition openings. I need to assign target dates, but also try not to beat myself up too much when inevitably they are not met. No progress was made on many of the blog topics, exhibition ideas, and bigger initiatives from last year – for example, as predicted, the website is exactly the same. Nevertheless I want to keep soldiering forward.
In an effort to have slightly more realistic expectations and stay focused, this year I've made three categories of exhibition topics. The first group is the Museum's shortlist, topics that I think and that might be doable by myself. The second group consists of exhibitions that I think would have wide appeal but require co-curation, which, again, will be difficult as no payment can be offered at this time. The last category highlights the non-priority topics, i.e. ones that are good but not quite as immediate as the first group. If the title has no notes next to it, that means the description hasn't changed since last year.
Priority:
- "Indies and Influencers: The Changing Makeup Landscape"
- "Age Before Beauty: Teens and Makeup"
- "Vanity Projects: Celebrity Makeup Brands"
- "Color History Through Cosmetics: Blue"
- "The Medium is the Message: Makeup as Art"- same themes as described in 2022, but I'd love to add a smaller gallery just for Makeup as Muse artists.
- "Ancient Allure: Egyptomania in Makeup" – Tweaked the title from last year, and since I delivered a paper on this subject in October 2022, it might not take quite as much time to pull together an exhibition. Plus, I just discovered the Cleveland Museum of Art is opening an Egyptomania in fashion exhibition in the spring, so there's definitely interest.
- "Just Desserts: Sweet Tooth Revisited" – I'd love for Sweet Tooth to return on its 10-year anniversary. A section on savory food would have to be added since bizarre food collabs reached a new level in 2022.
- "Beauty Marked in Your Eyes: A History of '90s Makeup" - Nearly 10 years and still not much progress since I first got the idea in 2014, but I'm not giving up yet. I was thinking it might be better to try to work on individual segments than the entire history. So far, chapters include: the rise of makeup artist brands, the impact of the internet on cosmetics, the battle for the "multicultural" market of the early '90s, makeup in various subcultures/genres (grrrls, grunge, goth, hip-hop) and how these styles got co-opted by the mainstream beauty industry. The epilogue would be the transition to Y2k makeup and the impact of '9os makeup on today's makeup, including various comebacks.
- "Design is a Good Idea: Innovations in Cosmetics Design and Packaging"
- "Nothing to Hide: Makeup as Mask"
Here are the ones the Museum will need much help with. Who wants to be a volunteer curator?
- "From Male Polish to Guyliner: A History of Men's Makeup"
- "Queens: A History of Drag Makeup"
- "Aliengelic: A Pat McGrath Retrospective"
- "Ugly Makeup: A Revolution in Aesthetics"
- Fashion x Makeup (still haven't thought of a decent title!)
- "Working Beauty: Makeup Artistry as Profession" – I found myself pondering who the first makeup artist was (and I love the hilarious Makeup Artist Memes Instagram account), so perhaps a history of how the career of makeup artist came to fruition would be interesting.
- "Mineral, Animal, Vegetable: 5,000 Years of Cosmetic Ingredients" – We really do put a lot of weird stuff on our faces in the name of beauty. This exhibition would explore the main ingredients used in makeup, along with the more questionable and downright dangerous ones from history.
And the last set, which are things I'm still debating or that need to wait a bit.
- "From Mods and Hippies to Supervixens and Grrrls: '60s and '90s Makeup in Dialogue"
- "Gilded Splendor: A History of Gold Makeup"
- "Black and Blue: Punk Makeup, 1975-2000"
- "Pandemic: Makeup in the Age of COVID-19" – As COVID case numbers remain high, this is getting tabled until it might actually be reasonably safe to go outside without a mask.
- "Catch the Light: Glitter in Cosmetics from Ancient Times Through Today"
"Wanderlust: Travel-Inspired Beauty"
- "By Any Other Name: The Rose in Makeup"
- "Lash Out! A History of Eyelash Beauty" – This one is new and while it might be boring, I am honestly sick of lipstick getting all the attention. There are so many books on it, why not have an extensive look at another makeup category? Thinking eyeliner, blush, highlighter and face powder might all be great options too.
Now for the blog posts. It's too much, but my brain is so eager to research and write!
MM Musings (1-2): In addition to museums as activists/agents of social change (which is coming soon!), I want to write about museum accessibility and revisit building a permanent collection and the issue of ethics in collecting. As the Museum evolved over the years to discuss makeup prior to 1900 and the cosmetic practices of Indigenous peoples, related objects have been on my collecting radar. But none of them have been purchased because their provenance remains questionable. This could also tie into the idea of using replicas of ancient artifacts as a more ethical way of displaying them. Oh, and I've been very inspired by the DMDA – a post exploring in-person events and activities would be really fun.
Makeup as Muse (1): Finally got around to Sylvie Fleury in 2022, so hopefully will be covering Janine Antoni, Rachel Lachowitz, Asa Jungnelius or Tomomi Nishizawa. But there were a couple of others I discovered in the past year, so those are possibilities too.
MM Mailbag (2): I only got one MM Mailbag post up in 2022. Two posts in 2023 would be ambitious, but I'd like to get them up as I think people searching for information find them helpful.
Vintage/brief histories (4-5): Mostly the same as last year, but I am sidetracked by newer ideas I had later in 2022, which are: ear makeup (the knee makeup article yielded a decent amount of website traffic), mouches and skin tone, true crime and makeup, a history of face gems, bindis (got a little obsessed with kumkum and bindi boxes), matching portraits on vintage compacts, the art of shibayama inlay, makeup for glasses wearers, spray (airbrush) makeup, Russian cosmetics during the communist era, guns and makeup, and Riot Grrrl makeup. Local (Baltimore/Maryland) beauty history might be interesting too. I also like the idea of an article on vices in makeup divided into 4 subjects: gambling/casinos, smoking/cigarettes, junk food and alcohol. Previous ideas included dolls and makeup, histories of early modern powder applicators, setting sprays and color-changing cosmetics, copycats, profiles of some more obscure makeup artists from the '60s through the '90s, and histories of defunct brands (a slew of celebrity lines, Diane von Furstenberg, Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger, Inoui ID, and revisit Stephane Marais), especially Black-owned brands like Marva Louis and Rose Morgan.
Trends (1): Licensing deals are at the forefront.
Continuations: Still need to finish up posts on Dorothy Gray's portrait series, Chinese makeup brands, and clothing and color coordination.
Topics to revisit (1-2): Mostly the same as last year, sadly, since I still did not tackle them: faux freckles, non-traditional lipstick shades, and a deeper dive into surrealism and makeup. I'd expand to Dada so I can include Rrose Sélavy, this very intriguing woman, and possibly incorporate the MSCHF x Fenty collaboration, since it read very Dada to me.
Artist collabs (5): The list is absolutely staggering. In 2022 alone there were the following collabs: Marleigh Culver for Laura Mercier, Steffi Lynn for Ulta, Robin Eisenberg for Urban Decay, Obi for Fenty, Katie Scott for Hourglass, Elie Top for Clé de Peau, Cho Gi Seok for RMK, Kazuki Hioki for Osaji, Caho for Blendberry, and Andy Paiko for Kanebo. There are tons of other collabs from previous years too, including Kelly Beeman for Laura Mercier, Charlotte Gestaut for Clé de Peau, Cecilia Carlstedt and Ethar Balkhair for Bobbi Brown, Masumi Ishida for Osaji, Åsa Ekström for Estée Lauder, El Seed for MAC, Connor Tingley for NARS, and the Shiseido Gallery compacts and lip balms. Not to mention I found a couple of Native American artists who made some beautiful pieces, and some other artists whose work appeared on vintage compacts (Raymond Peynet and Jean Cocteau, for starters.) The series on the artists whose work appears on Pat McGrath's packaging is better suited to the Aliengelic exhibition so that might be at the end of the queue for now.
Book reviews (2-5): The list is seriously out of control. Two more beauty books are coming out soon, plus I came across a couple I didn't know about previously.
Fashion: The collections of Dries van Noten, Off-White, and Marco Ribeiro for Pleasing are at the top of the list, along with a couple of vintage brands.
Color Connections (1-2): Slowed down a bit from the beginning of 2022, but still keeping up with them!
Miscellaneous: Kawaii collections like Kakao Friends, BTS, Sticky Monster Lab and others, along with newcomer Isamaya Beauty, a line by makeup artist Isamaya Ffrench. And I want to keep plugging away on Indigenous peoples' makeup and lesser-known LGTBQ+ histories. I'm finding the latter difficult to locate – the same figures and stories keep popping up, and I want to find others that haven't been shared much before. Finally, it's not even a fully formed idea, but I'm giving myself a crash course in material culture, so I'd like to write something about how that relates to makeup objects. Oh, and some reflections on the Makeup Museum in honor of its 15 year anniversary, which is coming up in August.
Tabled for now: history of colored mascara, how makeup language has evolved (for example, why we typically say "blush" now instead of "rouge" for cheek color, the idea of makeup as jewelry, day and night makeup, wear-to-work makeup from the 1970s-90s, profiles of Halston, Calvin Klein and Nina Ricci brands, BIPOC salespeople and customers in MLM companies, and makeup ad illustrators.
And finally, the books I can't seem to even start. Meh. New idea for this year is an edited volume of alternative makeup histories. I've seen many examples of "beyond the canon" in other fields and think a book like this is needed for makeup, and I think the Makeup Museum would be perfect to put out such a publication since it has always tried to tell the story of makeup in a different way and uncover hidden histories. Still need a title.
So, tell me: which of the topics from the first exhibition category and which blog posts do you want to see the most? And do you want to see exhibitions and blog posts or would you rather see a book finally get published and the website redone? It's a constant battle between regularly putting out content and devoting time to larger projects.
Consumers have come to expect a good measure of dishonesty in makeup marketing. But given the lack of strict regulations for cosmetics labeling in the U.S. ("clean" beauty, anyone?), companies have considerably more freedom to concoct some rather outlandish claims, especially nearly 90 years ago. Case in point: Woodbury's germ-free face powder and germ-proof lipstick and blush.1 In 1933 Woodbury introduced two creams they advertised as germ-free, asserting that their special formula contained a "self-purifying ingredient" that totally inhibited the growth of harmful bacteria even after use: "The last fingertip of Woodbury's Cold Cream is as sterile and free from germ growth as the first."
The faux science in the ads is absolutely mind-boggling, and there's a lot to unpack: the agar plates, the completely made-up Element 576 and the emphasis on germs not causing illness but bad skin.2
(image from archive.vogue.com)
The mummy references are particularly fascinating, especially in the context of other brands that extensively appropriated Egyptian imagery in the name of beauty. Explains Advertising Age: "The illustration used is full of significance. In the background is a photograph of the head of the wooden casket used by ancient Egyptians to enclose mummies. To get the picture, it was necessary to make an exact copy of a New York museum piece…one of the problems was to give the illustration high character. The mummy has a classic connotation [that] suggests the historic beauty of the Egyptians and carries a desert-dry inference on age. Possibility of achieving similar results with a mask treatment was rejected because of frequent use of the idea in recent years."3
While the "historic" beauty of ancient Egyptians is acknowledged in Woodbury's ads, an image of a mummy is used to indicate an undesirable cosmetic trait. If Cleopatra and Nefertiti were represented as beauty icons, the mummy represents ugliness – essentially the opposite of most Egyptian-themed makeup advertising.
Another interesting aspect of Woodbury's marketing of the germ-free line was the inclusion of quotes from a real dermatologist. Many figures used in makeup ads were complete works of fiction, but there was in fact a Dr. John Monroe Sigman and he was indeed a Georgia-based dermatologist. Whether Woodbury got permission to use his name on their germ-free ads is unclear. Most likely they didn't, but the fact that they used an actual, existing dermatologist is a step up from entirely imaginary people like Dr. Charles4 or grossly misrepresented real women such as Mamie Hightower. Anyway, a few years later Woodbury expanded the idea from skincare to makeup. As we know, it's impossible to keep makeup entirely "germ-proof"; it can be sanitized, but the claim that any cosmetic will remain totally free of germs once it's been used is obviously quite the fabrication.
One of the things I was trying to figure out is why Woodbury introduced the germ-free line at this moment in time. There was some hand-wringing about makeup being unsanitary and able to transmit dangerous infections, which may have simply been part and parcel of the general dislike of makeup in the early days of the industry, but common advice to avoid breakouts or infections even by the beginning of the 1930s was the same as today: don't share your makeup, wash your hands thoroughly before handling skincare/makeup (or use a clean brush/other tool) and be sure to remove your makeup daily.5 It appears that the germ-free line was just another marketing tactic to try to set Woodbury's products apart using the latest spin on science-backed cosmetics. Then again, though Woodbury's ads tied germs to unsightly skin issues rather than illness and the flu epidemic of 1918 was long over, the public may have been generally more fearful of germs given their knowledge of how diseases were spread and that vaccinations available today were still decades away in the early 1930s. (Think about it: the moment COVID was declared a pandemic came a tidal wave of articles on whether the virus could live on makeup.) And as historian Shiho Imai points out, certain populations, particularly the Japanese-American community living in Hawai'i, were especially susceptible to the claims of germ-free products. "The bubonic plague and Chinatown fire of 1900 was still fresh in the memory of many Honoluluans. In an environment in which the Chinese, Japanese, Korean and Filipinos continuously changed the geography of race in the city, the specter of germs constituted a peculiar threat to Honolulu's elite community…Woodbury's took advantage of the public's fear of contamination, a strategy that resonated especially with Hawai'i's English-speaking community."6
In any case, while the Federal Trade Commission filed a complaint against Woodbury for several other false claims in 1938, it wasn't until 1941 that they issued a cease and desist specifically on the germ-free marketing, noting that their germ-free/germ-proof products were neither "sterile" nor had any antiseptic properties. The promises made by today's beauty products seem less unbelievable than those Woodbury made in the 1930s – there's no way a company now could get away with claiming any product to be germ-free – but the ad copy is much more vague so as to avoid legal liability. Take, for example, Clé de Peau's holiday 2022 collection, the face cream of which contains something called "Skin-Empowering Illuminator" with an exclusive ingredient the company has dubbed "4MSK." In some ways this sort of drivel seems worse than more specific claims.
Have you ever felt misled by makeup marketing? The vast majority of marketing is patently untruthful, but I think the one I've been snookered by the most is anything labeled "shine-free". As an oily-skinned person I can tell you that I've spent countless dollars trying to achieve a matte t-zone to no avail, yet I fell for it hook, line and sinker for many years. Needless to say, I would have purchased Woodbury's germ-proof powder to avoid the horror of "shiny nose".
1 In their official ads, Woodbury inexplicably appeared to use "germ-proof" for rouge and lipstick and "germ-free" for skincare and face powder. Newspaper ads for all products seemed to use both terms interchangeably.
2 In 1936 Woodbury had increased the percentage of ad copy dedicated to discussing the germ-free qualities of their products; nevertheless even the earlier ads were significantly focused on the products being germ-free. See Advertising Age, December 9, 1935, vol. 6, issue 49, p. 25
3 Advertising Age, May 5, 1934, vol. 5, issue 18, p. 18
4 I have yet to find any evidence that there was a Dr. Charles (or any doctor for that matter) behind Dr. Charles Flesh Food. If anyone can dig something up I'd be grateful!
5 These statements are based on a quick review of newspaper articles from the time, including "Girls Warned Lipsticks Are Germ Carriers," Indiana Gazette, June 24, 1924 and "The Removal of Makeup," Des Moines Tribune, February 20, 1929.
6 Imai, Shiho. Creating the Nisei Market: Race and Citizenship in Hawaii's Japanese American Consumer Culture. University of Hawai'i Press (2010), p. 49. This statement suggests that xenophobia and racism may have been at play as well in the marketing and purchasing of germ-free products. In this case, buying these items may have been viewed by Japanese Americans living in Hawaii as a way to assimilate and avoid accusations of uncleanliness or spreading disease. (Again: see the current pandemic and greatly increased hate crimes towards Asians.)