Hello! It's been so quiet on the blog because I've been prepping the Makeup Museum's latest exhibition. I am incredibly pleased and honored to announce that I was asked to organize an exhibition in conjunction with an academic conference! "I’m Your Venus: The Reception of Antiquity in Modern Cosmetic Advertising and Marketing", was hosted by Drs. Laurence Totelin (Cardiff University) and Jane Draycott (University of Glasgow) and "aims at better understanding the centrality of antiquity in the construction of modern standards of hygiene and beauty, as well as examining and critiquing the image of antiquity that emerges from the modern material. The conference seeks to explain the prominence of certain ancient figures, be they divine or human, in the modern cosmetic industry, and how these ancient figures are used to promote certain standards, such as whiteness or exoticism, thinness, femininity and masculinity, and youth." As you can imagine, over the years the Museum has amassed quite a few artifacts that fit the conference theme so naturally I jumped at the chance to organize an accompanying exhibition. Plus it was a good opportunity to really start planning the Egyptian exhibition. 🙂
The conference has come and gone (and I did a virtual walk-through of the exhibition!) but the program is still available here. There were so many wonderful presentations! I'm still adding objects here and there to the exhibition, but you can check it out at the Museum's special exhibition website here.
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts and questions on this topic!
CW/TW: racist imagery and slurs for Indigenous, Asian, Latinx, and Black populations as well as those of Middle Eastern descent.
It's been nearly a decade since I discussed one of the many ugly parts of the beauty industry: cultural appropriation in makeup advertising and collections. The purpose of this post is to see what's happened on that front since 2013, highlight yet more historic examples and examine where we are now and where we're going. Is the industry moving in a positive direction with respect to cultural appropriation? How about the broader makeup wearing community and artists? The usual caveat applies, which is that cultural appropriation in makeup could be an entire book, but I think at least scratching the surface might be helpful in terms of reminding people about this issue and informing future research.
As covered in the previous post on this topic, cultural appropriation within a fashion and beauty context is defined as companies taking a culturally important symbol or idea (usually of a non-dominant or marginalized group) and using it for profit rather than true cultural appreciation. (This primer is still really good). Cultural appropriation is marked by a failure to acknowledge the significance behind a cultural artifact/practice or the reduction of a group to a harmful stereotype. Something that I didn't clarify in 2013 is that cultural appropriation is not different than racism but rather a form of it, along with stereotyping, fetishization and othering of BIPOC cultures. I mistakenly stated that appropriation "ties into racism", but that's not accurate. It IS racism, full stop.
So what are some of the culturally appropriative ads and collections that have been released in the past decade or so? Summer 2016 brought both Essence's Lights of the Orient and MAC's Vibe Tribe collection. In Essence's case, the design appears to be a mishmash of a watered-down Middle Eastern-looking pattern and a Greek key border for some reason. The packaging for Vibe Tribe, meanwhile, looks vaguely Navajo but does not reference any particular Native American tribe.
With the 2017 Lise Watier Luxotikka and Givenchy's 2018 Africa Light highlighter, it's not clear which culture they're ripping off. Once again, Africa is not a monolith. Some "tribal" print and a Black (?) model do not automatically refer to Africa. What is clear is Watier's portmanteau of "lux" and "exotic", and the latter word should not be used in this context.
Nomad's Shanghai palette was more complicated. As the company name suggests, Nomad is dedicated to creating palettes and collections named for the two (white, European) founders' globe-trotting adventures. Some argued that their products are meant to represent their experiences in the places they've visited rather than capturing the spirit of a particular locale. And travel-themed collections and lines are generally innocuous. But unlike Nomad's other releases, most agreed that the Shanghai palette seemed completely ignorant of the city (despite Nomad's claim that they worked with Chinese colleagues living there) and reduced it, along with much of Chinese culture, to stereotypes. People also felt it was tone-deaf given the rise of violent attacks against members of the AAPI community in 2021, which Nomad did not acknowledge at all.
And now for some vintage pieces I've come across. Cutex's Aztec Treasures refers to "pagan" colors, which in this instance is synonymous with some other racist terms ads love to use when describing ancient, non-white cultures: savage or primitive. The sculptures and architecture are reduced to props for white ladies. Using art to sell makeup is not new, nor is it problematic for a brand to be inspired by white/European artists since they are referring to a dominant culture, but in this context and combined with the ad copy, it is most definitely appropriation.
Revlon's 1969 Mexicolor collection ad isn't the most offensive, but inventing words like "Mexicolor" and the model's styling contribute to stereotyping. And once again the art serves as a backdrop.
I don't even know where to start with Yardley's China Brights ad from 1972. The shade names, the styling and the entire concept are just…awful.
The assault on Native American cultures ranges from garden-variety offensive to OMG-how-did-they-get-away-with-this-even-back-then. Embarrassingly, I purchased this Richard Hudnut compact a while ago. I knew it was named Thunderbirds, but because it was released in 1941 I believed it was referencing the U.S. air force group, which, in turn, I thought was named from the fact that planes were sometimes called birds and military jets make a ton of noise – I literally thought thunderbirds referred to WWII planes and the compact's imagery was an interesting representation of the name. I usually don't find military themes appealing and tend not to buy them for the Museum, but I honestly enjoyed this particular design. Little did I know that thunderbirds are mythological creatures from the folklore of many different Native American tribes. (According to this museum, the air force group's adoption of the thunderbirds name and symbol in 1939 was a result of their previous insignia – a swastika – being synonymous with Nazis by that point.) In any case, I don't think this compact had anything to do with the U.S. Air Force, but even if it did, it would still be appropriation.
It's bad enough that Tussy refers to the "Pow Wow" face, but to equate Native American speech with that of a Neanderthal is truly abhorrent. The ad copy reads like a cave man cliché.
The copy for Revlon's Sun Canyon Colors collection, meanwhile, erases the fact that land was outright stolen from Native Americans, instead opting for the narrative that the West was a "new frontier" to be "discovered". And let's not ignore the fact that the white model is appropriating Native garb as a costume.
Cutex seemed to be on a cultural appropriation streak in 1961.
Well-to-do, London-born Madeleine Mono made her entire cosmetics career off of a product she introduced in 1974 named Indian Eyes, a kajal pencil liner. Mono copied a genuine Indian formula she had purchased in an Indian-owned store in London, put it into pencil form, added a sizeable price markup and shopped it around to department stores. By 1981 the company had sold over 500,000 Indian Eyes pencils and was worth $8 million. I guess Mono couldn't get quite as rich if she had imported original ingredients from India or worked with an Indian business partner, so she opted for appropriation. Like white-owned brands that sell traditional Asian skincare tools, Mono really didn't have any business profiting off of Indian cosmetic practices in this manner. While there is a vast array of kajal pencils from non-Indian owned brands on the market these days, Mono's exotification of India made the product problematic, and while it's not her fault she was born in England, the whole operation smacks of British imperialism. (As a side note, I'd love a full history of how kohl and kajal pencils became normalized in the Western makeup world…but that's a project for another time.) The company also managed to branch into stereotyping Middle Eastern heritage with their Arabian Lights highlighters – shade names included Genie Gold and Bagdad Blue – and further mined Asian culture by releasing brushes with bamboo-shaped handles.
Around the same time, Mary Quant's Desert Chic collection similarly appropriated cultures from Middle Eastern countries.
So why do makeup companies engage in cultural appropriation? Obviously they're out to make money, but why was/is plundering various cultures such a common tactic, especially when there are other options available such as working with an artist or consultant who hails from that particular culture? I can think of a few reasons. One is the over-saturation of the cosmetics market. As noted in the Museum's post on Tattoo, so many brands and collections, companies seem to think that anything marketed as "exotic" will stand out from other products and catch the customer's eye. Second, the industry still misses the mark in terms of racial and cultural diversity in the U.S. The people responsible for creating and marketing collections aren't necessarily sensitive to cultural appropriation because the majority of them have never had to deal with it.
Another question is what to do with culturally appropriative objects and trends. Should they be purchased/participated in? On the one hand, it pains me to spend money on anything that's overtly bad and I certainly would not knowingly engage in an derogatory trend. On the other hand, basically all makeup is problematic on some level; it's a matter of which brands and influencers get exposed for their wrongdoings and the relative level of offensiveness. From a museum standpoint, I think it's necessary to discuss and display everything. If a museum is going to cover makeup from all eras and cultures, it has a responsibility to call attention to the bad along with the good. However, there's a line between educating museum visitors and traumatizing them. So more importantly than purchasing, how does a museum go about displaying and talking about the really awful stuff and acknowledging that the whole industry was built on racism and discrimination, worker exploitation, harmful ingredients, animal testing and the negative impact beauty packaging has on the planet, while also highlighting the things that aren't quite as egregious? I don't have an answer yet, but I hope to sort it out in the next MM Musings, which will discuss museums as agents of social change.
Anyway, it may be naivete on my part, but I believe makeup is moving in a positive direction with respect to cultural appropriation. The general public seems more aware of appropriation and in some cases, this leads to companies actually working to remove appropriative products from shelves and ads. Colourpop's Sandstone collection was repackaged after people spoke out about its questionable design, and in 2019 Fenty's Geisha Chic blush was pulled immediately from distribution and renamed. Nomad also shut down production of its Shanghai palette within days of revealing images of it and the ensuing backlash on social media. Arguably companies felt pulling a product hurt their bottom line less than a controversy, so they most likely removed or repackaged products to protect their reputation, not because they genuinely learned why they were wrong or felt any remorse. Still, makeup enthusiasts who are not industry professionals are now debating whether it's permissible to wear ancient Eyptian-inspired makeup as well as looks from a variety of cultures. Along those lines, over the past few years there's been more dialogue among consumers regarding collections and looks inspired by Lunar New Year and Day of the Dead celebrations. Slapping red packaging on a random product and marketing it for Lunar New Year, especially by a non-Asian brand that does not acknowledge the holiday's traditions or the larger Asian community, is a mindless cash grab. Some argue that the commodification of Lunar New Year can help raise awareness of Asian heritage, while some feel that any products sold specifically for the holiday are appropriation. (For the record, I'm still not sure of where I stand on this…I used to think the majority of LNY items were more cultural appreciation, but now I'm not sure. I know that in 2022 I purchased much less LNY makeup than in previous years because a lot of it was so uninspired and there were more non-Asian brands who don't even have a sizeable market in Asia releasing it, which didn't sit well with me.)
Cultural appropriation is still happening, of course, but anecdotal evidence suggests it does seem that people are more educated and speaking up. While it's going to be many more years before we don't see any instances of cultural appropriation or other more overtly racist collections and ads, it appears there's been infinitesimal improvement as compared to 2013. When I wrote part 1 of this post there were few major publications calling out cultural appropriation in the beauty sphere. Most of the links included in that article were from beauty bloggers who, like the Museum, had a relatively small following. But as of this writing, a quick Google search for "cultural appropriation cosmetics" shows at least 5 pages of articles by trade publications and mainstream media, including WWD, Brydie, Beauty Independent, and Teen Vogue. What needs to happen, as I've noted previously, is structural change. Until there is true diversity and inclusion at the upper echelons across the entire industry and major media outlets, there will still be cultural appropriation. One last point is that there's been significant growth of brands whose cultures have been ripped off. I don't think new makeup companies or products are a solution to cultural appropriation – the planet is drowning in beauty waste – but newcomers such as Prados and Florasis are helping raise awareness of their respective cultures while also reclaiming them from an industry that historically mistreated or ignored them. And I do think they contribute to structural change in the business in that they help offset the endless onslaught of white-centered brands, particularly those by celebrities. If there are new brands entering the scene, they should be culturally diverse.
Thoughts?
*Interestingly, a 1955 press photo for Arden's Eye Kohl was used on the cover of Kathy Peiss's Hope in a Jar.
Today the Museum is featuring a flash-in-the-pan brand from the 1940s. Shem el Nessim was a very short-lived line, lasting only about 6 months during the second half of 1946. I couldn't find much info, but one thing I can say is that it's not related to the fragrance of the same name by British perfumer Grossmith. The collection consisted of a lipstick, lipstick set with 2 refills, face powder, and a face cream.
Let's talk about the cultural appropriation aspects first. Shem el Nessim appears to be an incorrect, or at least outdated, spelling of Sham el Nessim, a roughly 5,000 year old Egyptian festival/holiday that is celebrated the day after Orthodox Easter (which, this year is today…yes, I've been planning this post for a while). The day marks the beginning of spring and is accompanied by several traditions, including dyeing eggs and enjoying picnics and other outdoor activities. Shem el Nessim loosely translates to "smelling the breeze". Why Grossmith spelled Shem with an "e" is beyond me, but it seems this new brand did too. And while Grossmith engaged in cultural appropriation to market this fragrance and others, they came relatively close to understanding the holiday and translating it correctly. The Shem el Nessim cosmetics line, meanwhile, claimed it was Arabic for "bloom of youth," which is totally off. Also, the name of one of the three lipstick shades appears to be nonsense. "Garfoz" does not seem to be an actual word in any language.
Next, the face cream container is shaped like an "Aladdin lamp"?! No information turned up about the brand's founder, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Shem el Nessim was started by a white American who wanted to capitalize on Western fantasies of the "exotic" Middle East. It's certainly an eye-catching design for a face cream , but completely inappropriate for a brand with no roots in or discernible connection to Egyptian or Middle Eastern heritage. Not to mention that if the entire jar was filled, it would be cumbersome to dig out product from the pointy front part of it.
In addition to using an existing product name, Shem el Nessim may have been looking at Amor Skin's lamp-shaped face cream, which debuted in 1927. It seems Amor Skin's lamp was originally a "Pompeiian" design, but by 1929 they were largely marketing it as an Aladdin Lamp.* Additionally, in the fall of 1946 Amor Skin heavily increased their advertising for the lamp and emphasized the Aladdin aspect, perhaps as a direct response to Shem el Nessim. Of course, the uptick in advertising may have been a simple coincidence, as Amor Skin had just returned to the market in the fall of 1946 after temporarily shutting down production during the war.
Lastly, the collection, or at least the lamp, was allegedly designed by a "Viennese sculptor" named Peticolas.
After a fairly exhaustive search, it seems this artist did not exist. There was a Sherry (Sherman) Peticolas who lived in L.A. and was active in the 1930s-40s, but as far as I know he was American, not Austrian. Additionally, his style was markedly different from the pieces in the Shem el Nessim line, and I couldn't find a record of Peticolas designing cosmetics.
So while it's certainly possible Peticolas was involved in the design, there's no concrete evidence to confirm. As of July 1946 Shem el Nessim had hired advertising agency Klitten and Thomas, so I'm wondering if the claims about the meaning of Shem el Nessim and the Peticolas design in the ad copy were entirely their doing. In any case, there doesn't seem to be any mention of Shem el Nessim after December 1946. I'm guessing Grossmith put a stop to the company very quickly, as the Shem el Nessim fragrance was most likely trademarked, and perhaps Amor Skin also told them to back off. Or it could have happened in the reverse: Shem el Nessim's owner(s) were unaware of either the Grossmith fragrance or Amor Skin lamp when creating the line, quickly realized their missteps and abandoned the business. What's interesting is that the Shem el Nessim Sales Co. did not seem to change names, they simply disappeared. Oh, if only all businesses that ripped off existing brand names (knowingly or not) would go away forever…the world would be much better off, yes? I also suspect the price points for a fledgling brand that was not an offshoot of a fashion/perfume house or other well-known entity were too high. A more established brand, or one started by a big fashion name or celebrity might have had better luck charging the 2022 equivalent of $110 for a lipstick. Per the ad copy, Shem el Nessim was intended to be "exclusive" and not mass market, but that may not have been a profitable tactic to start with.
Cultural appropriation and unoriginal name aside, the Shem el Nessim lipstick case remains a unique specimen of makeup design. The style recalls both classical busts and Surrealist art, with a dash of Camille Claudel in the graceful tilt of the head, dreamy, far-away expression and rendering of the hair. It could also be considered a more sophisticated and artistic precursor to the doll-shaped lipsticks that would prove popular some 15-20 years later.
Finally, while I haven't seen actual photos of the other items, the lipstick looks to be the most elegant, albeit impractical, design – certainly more visually appealing than the powder urn (the poor woman looks decapitated) and lamp (overtly culturally appropriative and the figure's silhouette and pose are a bit tacky).
Thoughts? If anyone can contribute any other information on this brand I'm all ears. 🙂
*While nearly all of the newspaper ads between 1946 and 1950 referred to the Amor Skin lamp as Aladdin's, a handful of them along with the November 1946 issue of Drug and Cosmetic Industry used the previous Pompeiian description.
It's another incomplete history, but I wanted to highlight the few bits I was able to locate about the makeup line founded by supermodel Naomi Sims, born on this day in 1948.1 (This post will not cover her collection of wigs, fragrance or skincare as these are not technically makeup, nor will it serve as her biography. Also, more light would be probably shed on Sims' intentions for her makeup line if I had remote access to her papers, which are unfortunately available by in-person appointment only. Sigh. Maybe in a few months if it's safe to travel I can dig through her archives and provide a more thorough profile.) Sims, a 5'10" beauty originally from Mississippi, began modeling in 1966 to help pay for college. Her true passion, however, was entrepreneurship. After becoming the first Black model to appear on the cover of Ladies' Home Journal in November 1968 and Life in 1969, Sims focused her attention on various business ventures. "Modeling was never my ultimate goal. Since I was 14 I wanted to manufacture beauty products," she stated.
On May 15, 1970 Sims announced she would be starting a beauty company that would specialize in cosmetics for Black customers. Like many Black women, Sims was frustrated at the lack of wearable and affordable base products for deep skintones. While a few lines for women of color existed they were not as plentiful or accessible as other brands. Fueled by relentless systemic racism, the barriers to entry for Black beauty entrepreneurs were multiple and substantial – lack of access to capital and loans, discriminatory policies that prohibited their products being sold in most stores2 and the claim that Black women either didn't want/need or couldn't afford makeup were just a handful of the challenges faced by Black entrepreneurs looking to set up shop. In short, despite the significant inroads made by pioneers like Carmen Murphy and Anthony Overton, there weren't many makeup options for Black women. Sims wanted them to feel confident and glamorous, which was difficult given the limited choices. "Black women have an inferiority complex concerning their physical appearance and I want to give them confidence. Black women want the same genuine psychological boost out of cosmetics that other women do, and one simply does not get that glorious feeling of glamour by adding burnt cork to the darkest shade of sun tan powder available," she said.3
The company, called Naomi Inc., was founded in partnership with ad agency Cadwell Davis. The shades were supposedly inspired by a Brazilian painter who used "earth" as a medium. It appears that Sims was nearly a decade ahead of the spate of clay-based products (stay tuned for a post on these!) that would flood the market starting in the late 1970s.
Sims took a keen interest in the formulas, stating that she wanted natural, beneficial ingredients and noted her desire to go back to school for chemistry. "[The] makeup we'll introduce will be almost medical makeup and skincare products. I'll visit stores and tell women how to use them…I want to know really what goes inside those cosmetics."4 As of 1971 the line was still being developed (in Japan), according to Harper's Bazaar.
Plans for the cosmetics were still on the table a year later. (Also, can we please take a minute to appreciate the baby blue on her waterline?! It's a gorgeous twist on the white liner trick to brighten eyes.)
Rather than continuing with Naomi, Inc., in 1973 Sims largely retired from her modeling career to focus more on her beauty business ventures, debuting a line of wigs called The Naomi Sims Collection. Three years later she published All About Health and Beauty for the Black Woman. While both the beauty guide and wigs sold well, it appears Sims tabled the makeup idea for the time being as there is no mention of it anywhere, not even in her book (or at least, this excerpt that dispenses makeup advice.) One would think someone with her own makeup line would recommend it, but she suggests a Revlon product instead.
In 1978 and at the launch of her fragrance in May 1979, Sims mentioned she was planning both skincare and makeup for the fall, but neither materialized. As of October 1979, according to Vogue, the makeup allegedly was still in development and was slated for a spring/summer 1980 release. "How to find makeup to blend in with our complexion," was still a problem, she noted then. "The colors available just aren't right. And from working with [makeup] every day [while modeling], I wanted to know why someone couldn't develop colors for Black women, and I wouldn't take no for an answer."5 Despite her persistent dedication to establishing a cosmetics range, it seems that the one Sims envisioned in 1970 did not actually come to fruition during that decade. There are several possible reasons as to why she chose to delay it. At first glance, given Sims' access to chemists (whom she worked with to develop new fibers for her wigs) and the overall success of her other endeavors, it's puzzling that she did not forge ahead with makeup. But as we know, makeup, particularly for women of color, has unique hurdles not shared by other beauty product categories. Secondly, early on Sims faced criticism from both white and Black customers. The June 26, 1970 issue of Women's Wear Daily mentions a quote from some Karen who thought it was unfair that Sims' proposed makeup line would cater to Black women (insert eyeroll here), while the April 1971 issue of Essence included a letter from a reader who did not approve of Sims' "white beauty secrets."
The advice from Sims herself was questionable as well. While she encouraged Black women never to minimize full lips, she echoed the sentiment about using makeup to ensure one would be appealing to Black men. "Cosmetics should not minimize the lip shape that many [Black] women have. Cosmetics should bring out the best features in a woman and those include her lips." In the same 1970 article, she advises: "A woman should always use some makeup but it should have a natural look…natural is the way Black men want their women to look."6
Thirdly, it could be that Sims decided she didn't want to compete with other makeup brands or collections intended for Black women at the time. The Naomi Sims Collection launched in 1973, the same year as Fashion Fair Cosmetics. Actress Barbara Walden introduced her eponymous line in 1968, which went on to be sold in department stores two years later. The white-owned Flori Roberts was still going strong, having been established in 1965, and mammoth Avon began marketing to Black women around the same time. Finally, Sims noted that she decided to postpone the line until after the Vietnam War to focus more on makeup. "I think I will wait until the war dies down…there will still be plenty of business left for me," she said.7
Sims never abandoned the idea for makeup products, however. In 1985 she co-founded a new business separate from her wig and fragrance companies, Naomi Sims Beauty Products Ltd., with her brother-in-law Alex Erwiah. Erwiah was a native of the Ivory Coast and a veteran cosmetic marketer who owned a successful import/export company that represented American and European brands throughout Africa. In 1987 a three-step, hypoallergenic skincare system was unveiled. While this sounds awfully similar to Clinique's famous three-step plan, Sims claimed that it was the first allergen-free line formulated especially for Black skin concerns. A year later, the cosmetics line, named Color Enhancers, was finally launched. Advertised as a natural-looking alternative to other cosmetics on the market and specifically formulated for a range of Black skin tones, the products retailed from $7.50 to $18 and were sold via phone order, Macy's, Saks, Nordstrom, Sears and other department stores.8
Sims enlisted makeup artist Byron Barnes to develop the products and join the company as Creative Director.9 Barnes' tenure with Sims was fairly short; in 1993 he left to pursue similar roles for a makeup range founded by another Black supermodel, Iman, which went on to become very successful. On the surface, Naomi Sims Beauty also sold well even early on, with Erwiah anticipating sales of over $5 million in 1989. But later that year he pointed out some challenges faced by the brand. The New York Timesreported: "Erwiah calculates that it will be at least two years before Naomi Sims shows a profit. Promotion and penetration of new markets are costly, and the company has invested heavily in new products, adding color cosmetics to its original skin-treatment line. Erwiah has another problem: for reasons that are not clear, Naomi Sims is no longer on the scene. Sims, whose title is chairman of the board, is unavailable for interviews and has no scheduled department store appearances. When asked to describe Sims's current role, Donna Italiano, the company's spokesman, will only say, 'I guess primarily the same as an Estee Lauder. Naomi has established the brand, and now she has taken pretty much of a back seat. Alex is the sole owner and Naomi Sims collects royalties.' Italiano does confirm that Sims has been ill and was recently hospitalized in Manhattan. While some observers question whether Naomi Sims Beauty Products can succeed, absent a compelling, credible figure with whom black women can identify, others declare that the day of beauty queens like Estee Lauder has passed. 'Today's cosmetics companies are selling image more than personality,' says consultant Natalia Holynskyj of Kline & Co., a market research firm in Fairfield, N.J. 'Even Estee Lauder has changed. The company doesn't use the Lauder name with its Clinique and Prescriptives lines.'"
Despite these obstacles, in 1992 the collection was doing well enough to launch in the UK, and was still being promoted through the summer of 1996.
That summer the company released a eyeshadow primer called Chalk. This is quite innovative due to the fact that there were basically next to zero eyeshadow primers on the market at the time (I distinctly remember being advised to use concealer or a matte beige/ivory shadow applied wet as a base), and the ones that were available certainly were not formulated for deep skin tones. "While most [eyeshadow primers] come in a sharp white, Naomi Sims' is a banana yellow that blends better with darker skin and helps colors appear more vibrant," reported the L.A. Times.10 Yellow toned or not, it was a strange name choice given that a common problem with eyeshadow primers is that they can appear quite chalky on dark skin. In November of 1996, an article in Drug and Cosmetic Industry cited two makeup artists who raved about both Naomi Sims skincare and the Skin Enhancer foundation. The same issue featured an interview with Mikki Taylor, then beauty and cover editor of Essence, who called the line "superb". But despite these accolades, the makeup didn't seem to be around much longer. While hair and skincare products from Naomi Sims Beauty Products were available in 2003, the makeup line appears to have been abruptly discontinued in late 1996 as I couldn't find any mentions of it thereafter.
It's not clear when Naomi Sims Beauty officially folded.11 What we do know, however, is that Sims was yet another visionary for Black women's cosmetics. Without models/seasoned businesswomen like Sims, who had first-hand experience with the issues surrounding beauty aids for Black women as well as Black entrepreneurship more generally, even less ground would have been covered by now in terms of suitable cosmetics for Black customers. I think the fact that her line was relatively short-lived and not as well-known compared to other Black-owned brands had nothing to do with product quality, marketing or the public's perception of Sims, given that her wigs were very popular for many years and her beauty guide sold even more copies when it was updated and republished in 1986, a decade after after its original run. I suspect it was related to heavy competition from the flurry of new, "multicultural" collections by mainstream white-owned brands in the early '90s (such as Maybelline's Shades of You, Prescriptives All Skins, and Revlon's ColorStyle, just to name a few – stay tuned for a post on these too!), revamped heritage Black-owned brands (Fashion Fair, Posner) and stylish newcomers like Iman. Nothing about Color Enhancers appeared to be lacking. It was simply unfortunate timing. And, of course, the role played by racism cannot be overstated.
What do you think? I really wish I could track down some of the makeup for the Museum's collection, but I found no trace of it offered for sale.
1Some sources indicate 1949, but Sims's obituary states she was 61 at the time of her death, so that would mean her birth year was 1948.
2Most brands that catered to Black customers were only sold via mail order or direct sales (i.e. door-to-door sales agents.)
3"Beauty Plan – Color It Black," Associated Press, May 16, 1970.
4"Top Model Naomi Sims Has Personality Plus," Courier Journal, Louisville, Kentucky, December 3, 1970.
5"Naomi Sims Brings Preview of Her Wig Designs to County," Joan Tarangioli, The Herald Statesman, Yonkers, New York, October 21, 1979.
6"Beauty Plan – Color It Black," Associated Press, May 16, 1970.
7"Everybody Is A Winner in Black Cosmetics War," Nina S. Hyde, Washington Post, July 1977.
8"New Beauty Lines Cater to Special Needs, Problems of Darker Skin Tones," Marylin Johnson, Atlanta Constitution, January 1, 1989.
9Barnes indicated he began working with Sims in 1989; however, the August 1988 issue of Seventeen lists him as the brand's creative director.
10"Changing Their Tones," Jocelyn Y. Stewart, L.A. Times, June 6, 1996.
11Interestingly, there is a 2016 trademark for Naomi Sims Beauty filed under Alex Erwiah's name, 7 years after Sims passed away.
Late late late links, once again.
– I was truly honored and overjoyed to be interviewed by the great Arabelle Sicardi for an article on makeup and beauty packaging over at SSENSE magazine.
– Another piece of makeup history I worked on in the past month was finding specific information on Keystone Laboratories, the Memphis company that manufactured the La Jac and Hi-Hat lines. The company was founded in either 1923 or 1925 by Morris Shapiro and chemist Joseph Menke. Like the Chicago-based Valmor Products, Keystone was white-owned and sold beauty goods alongside spiritual products to Black customers. Due to segregation they had to rely on direct sales agents rather than selling in stores and at the company’s height, they employed 4,000 salespeople nationwide. The two things I’m most interested in are that: 1. Keystone allegedly had a Black chemist on staff by the name of Jackson Green. I was very intrigued by this claim, because if it's true, he would have certainly been one of the first Black cosmetic chemists; and 2. Keystone also hired "professional artists" to create their packaging and I was really hoping to suss out their names so that they are acknowledged (like Charles Dawson). I chased quite a few leads to find info on Green, access Keystone’s archives or get in touch with the founder's granddaughter, but they all were dead ends. If anyone knows this information or where else I can look please let me know!
On average, the Museum receives one inquiry a week. It doesn't seem like much, but if it's something that can't be identified easily or a broad question about historic trends, they can take up quite a bit of time. Here are a handful of inquiries I worked on over the past year or so.
First, we have some questions about wartime makeup. One of the Museum's Instagram followers asked about this lovely set she had purchased on eBay. She suggested it may have been a kit provided to service women during the war.
The following week, by pure coincidence, another person got in touch with an identical kit in red.
As it turns out, the hunch from the tan kit's owner was spot-on: this is Elizabeth Arden's service kit, which dates to about 1939-1956. I don’t think the company provided them for free, but it seems like the kit with Stop Red was recommended specifically for the women in the Auxiliary Fire Service in the UK, at least initially. A book called the Home Front Pocket Manual contains an excerpt from the Nov. 1939 issue of a British publication called Britannia and Eve, and it mentions the set.
The kit was sold in Canada starting around 1942 and continued to be sold there into the 1950s, but was advertised just as a regular travel kit for the “busy” woman, not service women. It also looks like the red leather was not available until 1942. In any case, it's a compelling piece of wartime women's history – kits were actually created to help women adhere to the "beauty is your duty" motto.
So this was mostly solved…except for the number that appeared on both kits. If anyone knows what "R.D. 1941" means please get in touch. The only possibly relevant thing I found was "Reserve Decoration" which is an award for the Royal Navy Reserve in the UK, but it doesn't seem like that would be appropriate to put on this particular kit.
Next up, a vintage enthusiast and YouTuber, Katie May, asked about the use of gravy browning as leg makeup during the war. As silk and nylons were scarce, liquid leg makeup was sold as a substitute for stockings.
But in the UK, where shortages were even more dire and cosmetics prohibitively expensive, more women tried to DIY liquid stockings through a number of substances. According to some sources, ladies tested out a bunch of things to mimic the look of stockings. Along with gravy browning, cocoa, wet sand, tea, iodine, walnut juice and brown shoe polish were all experimented with. Katie wanted to know how the gravy was applied and whether it was a widespread trend. I'm afraid I couldn't turn up much concrete information given the limited access I have to resources, not to mention I know very little of where to begin looking for sources on WWII history in the UK. This BBC archive provides a brief 1st person mention of the stockings, but my findings consisted mostly of newspaper snippets and book excerpts, which may not be reliable and don't provide exact figures as to how many women were actually partaking in the practice.
So it's really difficult to say how widespread DIY leg makeup was, at least on a regular basis. It must have been so cumbersome to mix and apply, and it definitely was not waterproof. Even the expensive pre-made leg makeup sold by cosmetic companies were not necessarily waterproof formulas despite their advertising. The gravy browning in particular was rumored to attract dogs and flies. I can't envision women applying it themselves or going to the leg makeup "bars" to have others apply it every day, but maybe they did. It was a very different time; one woman remarked that it was "embarrassing" to go without stockings, so perhaps the social stigma was strong enough to force women to try DIY alternatives, and the cosmetics shortage in the UK was a lot worse than in the U.S. As for face makeup, the same ideas apply – I'm skeptical of how widespread DIY makeup was, but it seems most women in the UK could not afford cosmetics during the war even if they were readily available (which, again, they weren't…lots of shortages. While the UK government believed that cosmetics boosted morale so they didn't completely stop producing makeup, it was still difficult to obtain.) I must point out that men enjoyed making fun of us silly, shallow women's efforts to keep up with the constant societal expectation of beauty. And of course, they always had it worse. I can't roll my eyes hard enough at these clippings.
In any case, some sources state that beetroot juice was substituted for lip makeup and blush, shoe polish or soot (!) for mascara, and starch for face powder (NOT flour, as proposed by the sexist windbag above). Some women melted down whatever was left of their existing lipsticks and mixed them with Vaseline to make a balm. The two sources I found to be most useful on DIY makeup were 1940s Fashion by Fiona Kay and A People's War by Peter Lewis. Madeleine Marsh's book Compacts and Cosmetics (p.124) and Geoffrey Jones's Beauty Imagined (p. 136) also have brief mentions of DIY wartime makeup. Finally, I also recommended to Katie that she reach out to Kate Thompson, who has written several historical fiction novels about women who worked at the Yardley cosmetics factory in the UK during the war, and my understanding is that she's done quite a bit of research into WWII makeup. Anyway, Katie bravely tried out the gravy browning and a bunch of other homemade wartime beauty substitutes! Kudos to her for re-creating these unusual and rather messy cosmetic practices.
Next, an antique store owner asked about some old cosmetics sales kits by the name of Velens that she had come across. I didn't turn up much on the brand's products, but here's what I was able to find. The company was founded in 1930 by a Swedish ex-pat named Leo B. Selberg. Selberg had a background in chemistry and previously worked for Luzier, another cosmetics brand at the time. The Velen's Educational Cosmetics name was copyrighted that same year, as well as something called "Paul Velen's Color Harmony Chart". As it turns out, a man by the name of Paul Velen (based in Kansas) had actually come up with all the formulas prior to Selberg's involvement. The relationship between Selberg and Velen isn't clear; however, from newspaper clippings it seems that before moving to Missouri, Selberg socialized frequently with an older brother of Paul, A.R. (Reuben) Velen, so I'm assuming they knew each other. Paul also had a degree in chemistry, although what inspired him to start a beauty business remains a mystery. Maybe Leo approached Paul about being the owner of the business while continuing to sell under the Velen name and keeping the formulas, but it doesn't seem like either of them were too involved/hands on with the line. Selberg sold Velen's in 1959 to a company called Greer and Associates, but I couldn't find any mention of Velen's Cosmetics after 1955 so it may have been on its last legs by that point anyway. Paul Velen died in May of 1969 at the age of 68; Selberg in 1979 at the age of 83. There was also a man named Albert Colborn who served briefly as Chairman of the Board of Velen's Cosmetics from 1930-1933 and started his own beauty company called the Modernistic Beauty Service in 1933, but I couldn't turn up much about him other than his obituary.
Anyway, the Velen's line wasn't used for training at beauty schools but rather for demonstrations in salons to sell to salon customers. In fact, it was almost exclusively sold in salons with some direct sales (door-to-door/traveling) agents, not in department or drug stores. The "educational" part of the name meant that beauty salon employees would "educate" their clientele on the best products for them and how to apply them. It looks like it was sold primarily in the Midwest and Texas, with some salons as far away as California and New Hampshire, which is why it's a little surprising there aren't more records or product photos. So this was quite a find and an interesting tidbit.
Skipping ahead to the late 1950s, the Museum received a few questions about Helena Rubinstein's Mascara-Matic. First, someone sent in a box with some adorable packaging, which was released for the holiday season in 1958.
I couldn't find a magazine ad, but there were a couple of newspaper ads. A year later Rubinstein released another holiday edition of Mascara-Matic with a Christmas ornament design on the box. As far as I know the "harlequin" style in the photos sent in to the Museum was only released in 1958, and it doesn't seem like Rubinstein released any other holiday edition boxes of Mascara-Matic except for 1958 and 1959.
Then another person wrote in asking about the value of an original Helena Rubinstein Mascara-Matic, believing that the one she had found was from its first production run and worth a whopping £3,000 according to this Daily Mail article. It's hard to say with certainty whether any Mascara-Matics are from the first run. Perhaps those had the patent number and everything after that was marked "waterproof" or did not have any markings around the middle. However, the one I purchased for the Museum has the patent number but also came with a refill, and refills were not sold until 1958, a year after the mascara's debut. Even if the one the person had was original, it's not clear where the figure of £3,000 comes from. The Museum does not do valuations, but I will say Mascara-Matics, either with patent numbers or marked "waterproof" typically sell for about $50 so I can't see an original being worth 60 times more, unless there was proof it belonged to a celebrity or something like that. There was also a listing for one with a patent number at eBay – from what I can tell it was unsold with a starting bid of £49.95. If it was in fact sold, again, I can't see it going for £3,000 even in mint condition.
Lastly, another vintage store owner inquired about a skincare kit sold by blender brand Osterizer. (There are larger photos of the jars at Etsy.)
Based on the coupon included in the photo and some newspaper ads it was sold between 1971 and 1975. It looked like quite the gimmick. There wasn't a ton of information on it, but it seems Oster was trying to cash in on the "natural" cosmetics trend of the late '60s/early '70s and sold these kits for those who already had a blender and wanted to make their own organic skincare with fresh ingredients.
But who really needs brand name pink jars and labels for homemade cosmetics? One could go to any craft store and get their own supplies. And while Google didn't exist back then, the recipes would have been pretty easy to find as well. I'm just a bit astounded at what they were trying to sell, as it really seems to be a cash grab. Anyway, it's a fascinating bit of beauty history and definitely an expression of the era.
Which one of these were you most intrigued by? While I'm not the best at solving makeup mysteries I do enjoy receiving them, so please don't hesitate to send any objects or questions to the Museum!
It took me way too long to return to Dream Teams, but it's back in time for Black History Month! The second installment features five more Black artists whose work I think would make fantastic beauty packaging. Sadly, since the first edition of this series in the summer of 2020 there has not been a single Black visual artist featured on a mainstream makeup brand. My pleas continue to fall on deaf ears. Since companies still aren't collaborating with Black painters/photographers/multimedia artists, I figured it may be at least somewhat useful to keep sharing the work of notable Black artists within the context of makeup. As noted previously, the artist bios are kept quite brief for now – especially because the volume of information is overwhelming – but if they ever appear on beauty packaging I will go more in-depth. And obviously I acknowledge that artist collaborations, particularly imaginary ones, won't magically solve the beauty industry's racism problem, but it's a relatively easy step towards better representation and increased visibility.
The artist: Lorna Simpson
The brand: Adwoa Beauty
Why: The collages of Lorna Simpson (b. 1961) are a perfect match for modern, gender-neutral hair care brand Adwoa Beauty.1 Both celebrate the beauty of Black and/or multicultural hair textures – Simpson through combining vintage magazine cut-outs with vibrant colors and naturally occurring phenomena, and Adwoa through normalizing natural hair. Haircare is usually beyond the Makeup Museum's purview, but the similar perspectives of the artist and brand were so obvious I had no choice but to highlight them. Adwoa Beauty was founded by Liberian-born, New York City-raised Julian Addo, who was frustrated by the lack of modern, non-gendered products for natural hair. Every item on the market was being continually updated except products for natural hair. "I didn’t see the [modernization] happening with textured haircare," she says. "The packaging and the branding looked the same in 2015 as they did in 1994…Initially, I didn’t want to start a company. I was used to working behind the scenes. So I pitched a concept [about a modernized haircare brand for textured hair] to Sally Beauty and some of my other clients, but no one really moved on the idea. That’s how Adwoa Beauty was born–out of my frustration with the industry and how it represented Black women, and from my desire to have a clean, modern, gender-neutral brand that caters to textured hair. That didn’t exist prior to us launching in October 2017."
Around 2011 Simpson stumbled across her grandmother's old copies of Jet and Ebony magazines while cleaning up her studio. Her first instinct was to preserve them in archival sleeves, but then she was inspired to make collages. Over 150 of these pieces from 2011-2017 are included in the compendium Lorna Simpson Collages. A selection of images from the Phenomenon and Earth and Sky series would be fitting for Adwoa Beauty's packaging. Pairing women from '60s and '70s issues of Ebony and Jet with geological and astrological illustrations from old science textbooks, Simpson replaces their hair with gems and galaxies. "The overall effect – both regal and otherworldly – is a joyful homage to the irrepressible stature of Black hair," notes Emma de Clercq at Infringe.
Simultaneously celestial and earthly, the works do not erase Black women's hair but rather elevate it. Black hair re-asserts itself as a locus of self-expression and beauty instead of discrimination. As author Elizabeth Alexander writes in Collages' introduction, "In Lorna Simpson’s collages 'the black and the boisterous' hair is the universal governing principle. Black women’s heads of hair are galaxies unto themselves, solar systems, moonscapes, volcanic interiors. The hair she paints has a mind of its own. It is sinuous and cloudy and fully alive. It is forest and ocean, its own emotional weather. Black women’s hair is epistemology, but we cannot always discern its codes."
The simplicity of the collages' design and attention paid to the advertising aspect are echoed in some of Adwoa Beauty's marketing. Compare Simpson's thoughts on makeovers used to sell products and the brand's images. "I try to keep the collages very simple, as well as the character, the facing, and all the tropes of advertising from those particular moments. In a lot of the advertising from the sixties and seventies, there’s this whole focus on before and after in terms of makeup and appearance. The forlorn, concerned expression is before the makeover. They are amazing portraits, even for that time, because there is a subtext of political strife in terms of the before and after during the civil rights era. You have these expressions of concern that appear in advertising that are somewhat parallel to what’s going on culturally." While Adwoa Beauty's before-and-after photos don't hold the same significance described by the artist, they are powerful in their own right for normalizing and celebrating the hair textures of people of color. "Our images and marketing can fit in anywhere that beauty products are sold," Addo says. "'Normalize Being Kinky' is one of our taglines, and we are making sure that people of color know that there’s an assortment of products for them, including in prestigious retailers like Sephora. They can walk in and shop in the same aisles, not just the ethnic aisle."
Both Simpson's work and Adwoa Beauty's products enhance rather than "correct" and express the true meaning of Black hair, and for this I believe they are meant for each other.
The artist: Richard Mayhew
The brand: Viseart
Why: The abstract landscapes of California-based artist Richard Mayhew (b. 1924) have some of the most exquisite color schemes I've ever laid eyes on. Just like the eyeshadow palettes of French brand Viseart, Mayhew's use of color is vibrant but not overpowering, and provides unusual yet harmonious shade combinations.
Mayhew is inspired by his Native American and African American heritage and chose the landscape genre to express his peoples' spiritual connection to nature. "What I do with landscapes is internalize my emotional interpretation of desire, hope, fear, and love. So, instead of a landscape, it’s a mindscape…My mindscapes are also about the healing of the long trauma that Black and native communities have experienced collectively," he says.
He does not sketch or plan his paintings; they are mostly improvised, much like the jazz he listens to while working. "I just put paint on the canvas and that’s suggestive of what will emerge," he says.
While Mayhew, an active arts advocate and teacher, has had over 40 solo exhibitions over the course of his career, his work is not as recognized as other Black artists of his era, especially compared to the ones from Spiral, a notable group of Black artists he helped establish in the 1960s. Unlike other Spiral artists, Mayhew's work isn't overtly political and does not employ figurative or narrative components. "Even though he was very much part of the movements in New York City, he doesn’t really fit that niche that some people want Black art to fit into: narrative quality, political and Civil Rights [imagery]. Because of that I think a lot of people don’t know how to address his work," says ACA Galleries curator Mikaela Sardo LaMarche. "And as a consequence, he’s been on the sidelines a bit." Adds Richard’s daughter Ina, "His contribution was different. It is spiritual. He’s taking on the spirit of the time and Civil Rights movement in tones of color."
As for Viseart, the brand was originally intended for makeup artists; most of the palettes were geared towards the needs of professionals. In the past 3-4 years, however, they've expanded their eyeshadow palette selection that skew towards the average makeup user, creating appealing color stories and textures that retain an artistic spirit yet are foolproof for regular consumers. While the color combinations are unexpected, they are tremendously pleasing and different than most of what's on the market, much like Mayhew's landscapes.
The artist: Alma Thomas
The brand: Clinique
Why: Maybe because I'm still in awe of the Alma Thomas exhibition I had the great fortune of seeing back in December, but her work is truly stunning and I would dearly love to see it on makeup packaging. Heck, I want to see it on everything. Thomas (1891-1978) taught art at public schools in DC for most of her life, only taking up painting seriously in 1960 upon her retirement from teaching. Previously she attended art classes at American University and while she painted and exhibited still lifes in group shows, it wasn't until the 1960s that she embarked on abstract color paintings. As art historian Regenia Perry explained in the 1992 book Free within Ourselves: African-American Artists in the Collection of the National Museum of American Art, "From the window of her house she enjoyed watching the ever-changing patterns that light created on her trees and flower garden. So inspired, her new paintings passed through an expressionist period, followed by an abstract one, to finally a nonobjective phase…Color was the basis of her painting, undeniably reflecting her life-long study of color theory as well as the influence of luminous, elegant abstract works by Washington-based Color Field painters such as Morris Louis, Kenneth Noland, and Gene Davis…Earliest to win acclaim was her series of Earth paintings — pure color abstractions of concentric circles that often suggest target paintings and stripes. Done in the late 1960s, these works bear references to rows and borders of flowers inspired by Washington’s famed azaleas and cherry blossoms. The titles of her paintings often reflect this influence. In these canvases, brilliant shades of green, pale and deep blue, violet, deep red, light red, orange, and yellow are offset by white areas of untouched raw canvas, suggesting jewel-like Byzantine mosaics."
Thomas began a second major series entitled Space, which was inspired by the moon landing in 1969. "Like the Earth series these paintings also evoke mood through color, yet several allude to more than a color reference. The majority of Thomas’s Space paintings are large sparkling works with implied movement achieved through floating patterns of broken colors against a white background." My favorite of this series is The Eagle Has Landed. (Pardon the quality of the next few photos…the lighting at the Phillips was not the best.)
Clinique has done a number of collaborations over the years, but to my knowledge, none have been with Black artists or designers. Unlike the work of some color field artists that can appear a bit somber despite their vibrant palettes, Thomas's work appears remarkably upbeat, making it an excellent match for the playful mood of Clinique. And while fragrance is not in the Museum's wheelhouse, I would absolutely buy a bottle of Happy fragrance if Thomas's work was on it, as it conveys a wonderful sense of joy (or at least, I got immense joy looking at her paintings.)
Here is a reproduction of a dress she wore to her exhibition openings, originally designed by Maceo E. McCray. Per the wall label at the Phillips, "Thomas was known as a fashionable dresser who often selected clothes that coordinated with the palette of her works. McCray's design went further, using texture and color to both complement and contrast Thomas's paintings, ensuring the artist would shine at her exhibition openings."
So I also think Thomas, with her interest in fashion, would have been in favor of her work appearing on a makeup line.
The artist: Gordon Parks
The brand: Fashion Fair
Why: Gordon Parks (1912-2006) was a truly legendary master of photography. Entirely self-taught, he purchased a camera at the age of 25, referring to it as his "choice of weapon": "I saw that the camera could be a weapon against poverty, against racism, against all sorts of social wrongs. I knew at that point i had to have a camera." While Parks is best known for photojournalism, spotlighting social justice issues relating to race and class, more recently his fashion imagery has garnered attention. Along with many other outlets, Parks worked for Life, Vogue and Ebony magazines. Ebony co-founder Eunice Johnson created Fashion Fair and its accompanying line of cosmetics, so a collection featuring Gordon Parks is meant to be, especially considering both Parks and Johnson broke barriers in their respective fields. Plus, the minimal design of Fashion Fair's current packaging would make an excellent vehicle to display the quiet elegance of Parks' subjects and his equally graceful images of them.
Parks launched his photography career in 1939 at a high-end department store in St. Paul, Minnesota. He wrote in his 1990 autobiography, about Vogue: "Along with its fashion pages, I studied the names of its famous photographers—Steichen, Blumenfeld, Horst, Beaton, Hoyningen-Huené, thinking meanwhile that my own name could look quite natural among them."
Dr. Deborah Willis, professor and author of an essay from the catalog that accompanied the 2018 exhibition Gordon Parks: The New Tide, Early Work 1940-1950, believes an 1890 photo of Parks' mother, Sarah Ross Parks, was responsible for his interest in fashion photography and the notion of Black women asserting both their personal agency and sense of style through photography. She explains, "I imagine Gordon understood his mother through the lens of that image, his mother outside of raising children…I see this image as pivotal of what it meant to have a portrait made at that time. It allowed Sarah Ross Parks to create the personality and character of a woman who, within a 30-year period after Emancipation, and how she is using this space as a place to acknowledge not only her femininity and her sense of self as a free woman…Gordon was placing these women in this clothing in these high powered places like New York or Chicago – and seeing these spaces, they had a right to dress and be in these environments."
This photo is noted as an outtake from a 1978 Revlon shoot so we can assume Parks was responsible for photographing the Polished Ambers campaign, or at least some of it. Here's proof he was skilled at beauty photography too, which makes a collab with a cosmetics brand all the more apt.
I'm envisioning the above photos on palettes encased in heavy-duty acrylic (like NARS' Man Ray collection), as that simple yet sophisticated design would be a fitting tribute to Parks' photographic style.
The artist: Charles C. Dawson
The brand: Sweet Georgia Brown
Why (and what?!): Charles Dawson (1889-1981) was the artist and designer behind the packaging for, among other notable brands, the Chicago-based Valmor Products. Dawson essentially served as the brand's first creative director, establishing an early pop-art style that fused traditional femininity with bold sexual appeal. (Jay Jackson later took over for Dawson at Valmor.) However, the (white) owners of the company would not permit Dawson to sign his work. It wasn't until recently that Dawson was finally credited for his work for Valmor.
In a very informative article on Valmor at the Made in Chicago Museum's website, curator Andrew Clayman notes, "Though he might have been caught up in some of the cultural assimilation trends of the era—a survival requirement for some black professionals—Dawson was far from an apologist for blackness or someone running away from his heritage…his designs used sex to sell mainstream products in a way rarely seen before, with characters of ambiguous race, if not overtly black or Latino, and women who were just as pleased to seduce a man as pine for one." The article also features the insight of the "godmother of brown beauty blogging", Afrobella creator Patrice Grell Yursik. She adds: "The packaging by Charles C. Dawson spoke directly to the aesthetic of the time. There absolutely is a light-skinned ideal in his design, but the fact the products existed in a time of need and offered a glimpse of black beauty in a Eurocentric landscape makes this far from a shameful chapter. I believe the products and positioning of Valmor ultimately helped to inspire future generations of beauty entrepreneurs to create even more products for an always-underserved market, celebrating more accurate reflections of diverse beauty over time."
My fellow Gen X'ers might recall a brand called Sweet Georgia Brown from the mid-late '90s that used the same graphics as the original line owned by Valmor. But instead of catering to Black clientele, this iteration of Sweet Georgia Brown was geared towards the tween/teen set and featured lots of glitter and scented products.
So how did this happen? Well, according to the Made in Chicago Museum article, Valmor was sold to Richard Solomon, owner of RH Cosmetics, in 1985. Though most of Valmor's archives and products were thrown out (the horror! Solomon was only interested in the hair pomade), Richard's wife Myra apparently took notice of the Sweet Georgia Brown packaging, for she is credited with "revamping" Sweet Georgia Brown as a youth-focused brand.2 RH Cosmetics was sold to AM Cosmetics in December of 1996 and the sale included the Sweet Georgia Brown line.3 AM Cosmetics continued to produce it until 2003 or so.
Sadly, in all of the marketing, there was no mention of the history of the brand and zero effort to make it diverse. Not only did the fact that Sweet Georgia Brown was originally intended for Black customers go unmentioned, Dawson's role was completely unacknowledged once again. It's very probable that neither RH Cosmetics nor AM had any idea that Dawson was responsible for the graphics, and obviously diversity wasn't a priority for most cosmetic brands in the '90s, but both companies should have at least known Sweet Georgia Brown was meant for Black customers. All of this is to say that my recommendation is for a Black entrepreneur to take over the rights to the hair pomade (which is still available in some retail outlets, although it's not clear who owns it) and re-introduce Sweet Georgia Brown as a fully inclusive beauty line that ensures the public knows its origins, with Dawson's name printed on the packaging for every product. A brand new Sweet Georgia Brown website would have all of the company's history and extensive information on Dawson and his successor Jay Jackson.
What are your thoughts on these artists and the brands I've matched them with? Would they make good collabs or no?
1A year ago Simpson produced a series of collages featuring Rihanna for Essence magazine so it would seem that Fenty might be a better company match, but after exploring Simpson's work and other beauty lines, I thought a minimal hair care line made more sense for a collaboration.
2Women's Wear Daily, April 22, 2005.
3Myra Solomon sometimes used the name of her first husband, Smolev. Richard, Myra and her daughter Sydra were subsequently sued by AM for allegedly stealing trade secrets. Shortly thereafter Myra and Sydra began a new company called Just Having Fun Cosmetics, which mimicked AM's portfolio of teen/tween focused brands.
Here we go again! I was not nearly as productive on blog posts and exhibitions as I had hoped in 2021, but that was due to some behind-the-scenes things going on – namely, making the Museum a nonprofit organization, writing a land acknowledgment and developing a diversity report card (which is coming soon!) I must preface the following exhibition and blog topics by stating that there will be more behind-the-scenes things going on in 2022, so it will be even quieter than in 2021.
I won't bore you with the details, but I've made decisions about two major initiatives that have been rattling about for years: collections management software and overhauling the website. Since I can't hire a professional to help with either of these massive tasks, they will be very slow going and will require cutting back on blog posts and exhibitions (and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the website is exactly the same 12 months from now.) My goal is to curate one exhibition and however many blog posts I can manage – I'm hoping for 20-30, but even that seems very ambitious. So with that, let's take a peek at the topics I have brewing.
In an effort to narrow down the amount of exhibition ideas I have, last year I came up with a priority list of topics that might be doable in 1-5 years (if the Museum is still in existence) and a secondary list for ones that are not quite as high priority. The descriptions are basically the same as last year and I hope to think of better titles. Once again the husband came up with handy graphics. The first four are new ideas I came up with in the past few months, so feedback is greatly appreciated in terms of how they rank in relation to the others. Also, while I plan having people assist in specific parts of exhibitions, i.e. writing the introduction or an essay on one aspect of the topic, there are four exhibitions I absolutely can't take on mostly by myself. Whether they're a group effort or involve just one other person, co-curation is necessary. It will be difficult to get co-curators, however, given that it would be a volunteer (i.e. unpaid) effort. So while these exhibitions are included in the priority list, none of them will be the 2022 exhibition as it will take time to find funding or someone who will co-curate for free.
Priority:
"Indies and Influencers: The Changing Makeup Landscape" – I am so fascinated by the number of indie brands on the market as well as their creativity. Influencers are another fairly recent development and I think it would be interesting to see how these two major developments interact and also how they're shaping makeup history.
"Age Before Beauty: Teens and Makeup" – This is pretty straightforward. It would be a history of makeup marketed to teens, makeup advice for teens, and how past and current generations of teens view makeup. The segment on '90s prom makeup is already set. 😉
"Vanity Projects: Celebrity Makeup Brands" – Again, self-explanatory. You would be shocked how long celebrity endorsements and lines have been around.
I don't have a title for this one, but it would be similar to the big art x makeup exhibition/book. I think a deep dive into all the various connections between fashion and makeup is in order – from fashion brands launching makeup lines, designer collaborations and runway makeup to makeup as jewelry and a history of makeup/clothing color coordination, I'm aiming for a comprehensive look at the relationship between fashion and makeup.
"Aliengelic: Pat McGrath Retrospective" – I'd strongly prefer having a makeup artist co-curate with me. Alternate title instead of Aliengelic: "The Mother of Modern Makeup".
"Black and Blue: A History of Punk Makeup"
"Catch the Light: Glitter in Cosmetics from Ancient Times Through Today" – this one is just so enormous I still don't know where to start even though it's been on my radar for a couple years now.
"Color History Through Cosmetics: Blue" – I decided to scrap the gold-themed exhibition in exchange for blue. I discovered so many interesting things about blue makeup while pulling together some trivia on Instagram, there's definitely enough there for an exhibition. I'd also love to cover other colors.
"Ancient Allure: Egypt-Inspired Makeup and Beauty" – This one is still proving popular when I've polled on social media. My big issue is how to handle the cultural appropriation/racist aspects of it.
"Queens: A History of Drag Makeup" – Great topic but overwhelming. Need much help.
"Just Desserts: Sweet Tooth Revisited" – If the Museum is still around next year, Sweet Tooth will definitely make a triumphant return on its 10-year anniversary. I would also add a section on savory food themed makeup and possibly booze…some of the things I've seen are just bonkers and have to be included.
"Beauty Marked in Your Eyes: A History of '90s Makeup" – If you've been following this for a while you can see I tweaked the title from "She's All That". I was in the shower and listening to "Now They'll Sleep" by Belly, and the new exhibition title just hit me like lightning! You know I've been wanting to do a comprehensive exhibition and book since at least 2014, but just never seem to have the time. We'll see if I make any progress this year.
"Pandemic: Makeup in the Age of COVID-19" – Depressing but historically significant. I'll need to wait until (if) the pandemic is safely behind us, but I am gathering bits of what will surely become history now.
"Ugly Makeup: A Revolution in Aesthetics" – I still love Makeup Brutalism and her other effort Ugly Makeup Revolution. It would be amazing to have her curate with me. The exhibition would be a deep dive into how makeup is going beyond basic artistry and self-expression.
"Nothing to Hide: Makeup as Mask" – This was the other choice I included in the Twitter and Instagram polls. While respondents chose Egyptian-themed makeup over this one, the mask theme in makeup goes back centuries and would certainly make a rich topic, plus I could do a subsection on mask wearing's effects on makeup in the pandemic.
"From Male Polish to Guyliner: A History of Men's Makeup" – Would love for the author of Pretty Boys to co-curate!
Secondary list/things I'm not sure about:
"From Mods and Hippies to Supervixens and Grrrls: '60s and '90s Makeup in Dialogue" – In my opinion, cultural developments in both the late '60s and mid-1990s radically changed the beauty industry and gave birth to new ideas about how people view and wear makeup; there are many parallels between the two eras. I feel, however, that I'd need to do the '90s exhibition and book first so this would have to wait.
"Gilded Splendor: A History of Gold Makeup" – This is nice but the more I thought about it the more I didn't think it would be a priority.
"Design is a Good Idea: Innovations in Cosmetics Design and Packaging" – Another that I still like but not so much as to make it immediate. I do love the notion of including a huge section on novelty packaging.
"The Medium is the Message: Makeup as Art" – This will trace how makeup is marketed and conceived of as traditional fine art mediums, i.e painting and sculpture, artist collaborations for packaging (naturally) and also how art history is incorporated into makeup advertising and collections. Consider it a comprehensive discussion of this post while working in canonical artists whose work has appeared on makeup packaging. While the idea of makeup as fine art was the Museum's original raison d'etre, the expression of this has been overwhelmingly white. The artists used in vintage ads such Lancome's are white and even collections today don't collaborate with many BIPOC artists, especially Black ones.
"Wanderlust: Travel-Inspired Beauty" – honestly, this topic is sort of boring me now. But I figured I'd still keep it on the back burner.
"By Any Other Name: The Rose in Makeup and Beauty" – I pitched this idea to the FIT Museum as a small add-on to their "Ravishing" exhibition. They weren't interested and now that the exhibition has passed I'm tabling it for now.
And here are the blog posts.
MM Musings (1-2): Really want to write about museum accessibility and how museums can be agents of social change. Those topics are huge so it'll probably have to be one or the other.
MM Mailbag (2-3): The MM mailbag overflowed yet again in 2021 and they took a considerable amount of time to research and respond. We'll see what I can get around to sharing.
Vintage/brief histories (4-5): I still want to go ahead with histories of powder applicators, setting sprays and maybe colored mascara, color-changing cosmetics and how makeup language has evolved (for example, why we typically say "blush" now instead of "rouge" for cheek color.) The author of Cosmetics and Skin kindly suggested an article on copycats, i.e. how companies clearly ripped each other off and continue to do so today in terms of packaging, ad campaigns, etc. which is a great topic. I'm also interested in a history of Day of the Dead makeup, and the Museum's Revlon Futurama post got me thinking more about the idea of makeup as jewelry. I still need to finish the series of Dorothy Gray ads featuring portraits of well-to-do "society" ladies, and I'd like to pursue wear-to-work makeup from the 1970s-90s, histories of defunct brands (a bunch of celebrity lines, Diane von Furstenberg, Halston, Ralph Lauren, Benetton, Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, Nina Ricci and Inoui ID, and revisit Stephane Marais), especially Black-owned brands like Naomi Sims and Rose Morgan. I still want to write something about Black salespeople and customers in direct sales companies, i.e. Avon, Mary King by Watkins, Fuller, Artistry by Amway, etc. but given that it could be an entire book I'm not sure how much I'll be able to do on it. Finally, in 2021 I became quite fascinated with paper mache lipstick holders so hope to work up a history of those and other doll-inspired lipsticks in general, along with profiles of some more obscure makeup artists from the '60s through the '90s, and a feature on makeup ad illustrators. Whew!
Trends (1): Makeup brand merchandise and swag – another I STILL didn't cover in 2021 as planned. I'm also very interested in the video game trend in makeup, but I'm hoping this amazing person writes about it instead!
Artist collabs (5): Yes, still trying to catch up on some of 2020's holiday releases, including Fee Greening for Mikimoto and Cecilia Carlstedt for Bobbi Brown. There was also a beautiful surprise Japan-exclusive holiday collection from Clé de Peau, who teamed up with Charlotte Gastaut. There are tons of other collabs from previous years that I'm still thinking about, such as El Seed for MAC, Connor Tingley for NARS, the Shiseido Gallery compacts and lip balms, and a series on the artists whose work appears on Pat McGrath's packaging. There will a few surprises too. 😉
Book reviews (2-5): So. Many. Books. The speed reviews I did last year were fine, but I want to do more of these and also maybe return to more in-depth reviews.
Dream Teams (1-2): I really thought I would do at least one more of these in 2021, but I did exactly zero. I especially want to focus on BIPOC artists and flesh out the idea I had back in 2016 for a Rrose Sélavy-themed collection.
Color Connections (1-2): I returned to Color Connections last year with a vengeance, and made good on the idea to create an entire Instagram account for them. So expect a few here from time to time. 🙂
Miscellanous: a feature on new Chinese beauty brands and some kawaii collections like Kakao Friends and others. And of course, keep plugging away on individual bits and pieces for the '90s book.
Speaking of which, the book ideas are the same as last year. The first and second ones are the accompanying catalogs to their respective exhibitions. The last one is the coffee table book, which I'm tinkering with to make it more diverse.
So it looks like the Museum has its work cut out for it! What exhibitions and post topics are you most excited about?
Color coordination is just one of many facets of the vast and complex makeup-fashion relationship. This post will attempt to outline the trajectory of this concept from the 1920s through the early 1960s and examine how it was being marketed, with particular attention being paid to the notion of a lipstick wardrobe. The usual disclaimer applies: it won't be as thorough as I'd like given the limited access I have to certain resources, but hopefully will give a cohesive picture.
In the nascent cosmetics industry, color harmony usually referred to coordinating makeup shades to one's skin tone, hair and eye color. (It must be noted that women of color, particularly Black women, were completely left out of the "types" developed by Max Factor and others.) But as makeup became more acceptable and even expected, outfits began to take on importance in terms of coordinating makeup. The rise of ready-to-wear fashion and designers releasing seasonal collections also played a significant role. By the late 1920s beauty columns were advising women to select their makeup with the color of their "costumes" in mind in addition to the original three pillars of color harmony.1
Beauty columnists also advised a bit of color correcting through the use of mauve or green-tinted powders (which, you may recall, was pioneered by Shiseido), as this would enhance the complexion depending on lighting and the color of dress. The racist/colorist goal of "heighten[ing] the effect of whiteness" via makeup persisted throughout the 20th century. While most articles weren't quite as blatant about achieving whiteness to coordinate with various clothing colors, the sentiment was implicit in many color coordination guides.
While makeup shade selection was still sparse, cosmetic companies began using dress colors as a marketing opportunity. Elizabeth Arden led the way, declaring in 1931 that "any woman can wear any color". Cosmetics and Skin explains, "Unlike clothing fashion colours, that changed from season to season and year to year, lipsticks, rouges, face powders and nail polishes were sold in the same shades over long periods of time. Although limited, the colour ranges available in the 1920s and 1930s generally included vivid colours for evening wear and enough shades to enable women to make some allowances for different outfits and/or accessories like brightly-coloured jewellery. In the 1930s, recognising that make-up, like hair dyes, could change a woman’s ‘natural’ colouring, Elizabeth Arden and others went further, suggesting that make-up could enable women to wear a greater range of fashionable colours than her natural colouring might otherwise suggest." By the end of the '30s, "Women began buying new make-up items simply because of a change in colour, thereby increasing sales."
Cosmetic companies and beauty columnists seized on the idea of choice that color coordinated makeup supposedly allowed. Women no longer had to fear certain dress colors; they could wear them with confidence provided their makeup was aligned. With a change of outfits and harmony between makeup and clothing shades, women could also express various moods and personalities. The ad copy for Elizabeth Arden's lipstick ensemble claims one could be the "The same woman…but with infinite variety" and equipped with "the power to change your personality to suit your mood – or your gown." Columnist Antoinette Donnelly expanded on the concept, suggesting that by frequently switching up makeup and clothing combinations and breaking free from their set type, the average woman could become whoever they wanted. "[Witness] the manner in which makeup is worked out so that the woman can change her dress color to one that will put her in an entirely different category than that she is occupied in the somber shades, let's say. Or, with the help of certain makeup colors, she can be a stunning black-frocked siren, pale-cheeked and red-lipped, whereas before she may have been only a negative personality…these are frequently the type, who, rebelling, finds in an entirely new makeup scheme just that transforming note that lifts them out of the nondescript class…our interesting beauties are getting away from type classification. They're going in chiefly for being that something different which is always welcome, and particularly welcome in a world now filled with good-looking women. Makeup is the avenue over which you travel to get that difference and the crowning achievement will be reached when you know your makeup colors and what dress colors they should be associated with…the point is that this new makeup occupation of playing color successfully against dress colors is going to permit you a more dress-color latitude and will supply your audience with a woman about whom it can't be said: 'She always looks the same.'"2
Still, there was a lot less flexibility than beauty columnists and ads cared to admit. Any woman can wear any color, perhaps, but only by following the prescribed advice and buying particular colors. Couched in the language of freedom and excitement, a variety of makeup shades may have offered new possibilities in terms of dress, but there were rules dictated by self-appointed experts and businesses who overwhelmingly encouraged women to wear what was "becoming", not necessarily whatever color combination one desired.
Nevertheless, the industry wanted to make it easy for women to buy multiple shades and the notion of sticking to one color or ensemble seem antiquated. As one 1933 article encourages, "Don't say, 'I can't wear grey'- or blue, or green as the case may be. It's hopelessly old-fashioned. Smart women these days merely change their complexions to suit their costumes, and find that there are no longer any forbidden shades…when you know your makeup story, it's all so simple."3 In addition to this sort of rhetoric that emphasized simplicity and modernity, cosmetic companies boosted sales by creating ensembles that made choosing colors less daunting for customers. The assumption was that by eliminating confusion regarding what beauty products went with what fashion color, pre-made sets detailing appropriate shades would appeal to shoppers who would otherwise be intimidated by makeup-dress color coordination (or those who merely didn't want to be bothered spending time picking out the "right" shades), normalize the idea that women should own more than one color, and introduce shades customers may not have considered otherwise. Matched makeup products and sets existed – most notably by Max Factor and Richard Hudnut – but without the fashion component, instead focusing on the original three tenets of color harmony (complexion, hair and eye color). Elizabeth Arden's lipstick ensemble and color harmony boxes may have been the first official sets designed to take the guesswork out of makeup-clothing color coordination.
General guidelines on color coordination proliferated and more companies began releasing pre-made sets.
Elizabeth Arden may have also been the first to collaborate with department stores on showcasing new colors that went with the latest fashions. In 1931, a fashion show held at Lord & Taylor demonstrated not only new dresses, but the Arden products that went along with them. "How the new striking colors of the season may be worn by all women if the proper makeup is utilized was illustrated by various feminine types wearing the proper cosmetics with the colorful gowns chosen for them."4 Five years later, makeup companies were advertising their seasonal shades alongside the latest fashion colors in department store windows. Primrose House, Helena Rubinstein and Charles of the Ritz displayed their new tawny shades in next to white sportswear collections.5
Elizabeth Arden continued to lead the way by introducing "color capes" at counters and salons where customers could try on little capes in the season's latest fabrics and decide what makeup went best with them.
Generally speaking, color coordination guidelines were to stick to either warm or cool tones (i.e. don't mix a warm-toned brown dress with a blue-red lipstick) but still wear colors that allowed for maximum contrast between skin and dress. While dress and accessory shades needed consideration, one's own coloring was the most important in terms of picking out makeup. If your outfit had two or more contrasting shades, the makeup should be matched to the dominant color or the one closest to your face. One should own at least three lipsticks: a "clear" or true red (what I suspect has neutral undertones), a blue red (cool-toned) and an orange red (warm-toned). Finally, coordinating lip color was more critical than face powder for a harmonious look, if one had to choose between the two. Some rather harsh color coordination advice from the decade6:
"There are shades of rouge and lipstick and powder that are unequivocally antagonistic to other colors in close juxtaposition. This is seen in makeup colors themselves. Such as a bright orange face rouge and a purplish or deep raspberry lipstick. This combination is really ugly. Extend the idea to apparel. Take a blue eyeshadow with a red or flame colored dress. Just wrong, that's what it is."
"You must change the lipstick and rouge cases that you carry in your pocketbook as regularly as you change your frock, if you want a pleasing ensemble."
"Remember always that your lips supply the most outstanding color to your face. If they are wrong, your whole face might as well give up."
In terms of individual colors, the prescriptions were as follows. It's very interesting to see the roots of makeup color theory, especially considering how advanced it is today. Some of the advice is debatable, most likely due to the fact that there simply weren't many shades back then. And once again, these sorts of color-specific tips were intended for white women only. While some of the principles could theoretically be applied to BIPOC skin tones, it's obvious that the industry was focused on a white audience. Racism and colorism were on full display, particularly in the advice given for black dresses.
Red:
"Keep rouge and lipstick in the tone of the costume color – red geranium for an orange red or vermillion dress, red raspberry for the purple-reds, the rich wine shades and fuchsias."
"When wearing red, violet or blue-violet, it is very important to have the same basic tones in rouge, lipstick, and costume – no clash of orange with blue-red. That's bad!"
"If your dress is red, your lipstick leans toward purple and your rouge is borrowing its tones from orange, you will look as flamboyant as a circus poster."
"Red is a danger color in makeup. If the costume color is a bright shade of red, it should be matched as closely as possible with lipstick and rouge. The smartest crimson frock could be ruined by proximity to orange rouge and mandarin lipstick."
"If you wear red, particularly the bright, slightly off shades, the lipstick must match your costume exactly. Your rouge must be properly toned with your lipstick."
Beige and brown:
"Rouge and powder should have a touch of yellow. Green eyeshadow is stunning with beige."
"For wheatstalk and other beiges, use a vivid note: peach makeup base and peach powder, red geranium lipstick, rouge and nail polish. Green eyeshadow and blue-green mascara."
"If you are wearing browns that let orange supply their gaiety, you will want a touch of orange in your makeup."
"A warm terra cotta or russet makeup base, terra cotta or russet rouge and lipstick and a faintly mauve shade of face powder. Use bronze shadow and brown mascara."
Grey:
"All shades of grey needed a decided contrast."
"It is advisable to accentuate lip and eye makeup and subdue grayish pallor by using a deep peach rachel powder. When cheek rouge is used, it should be of a dark red or true blood tone, never a light orange shade."
"For grey, a vivid makeup is recommended for contrast: peach makeup base, a light shade of pinkish tan powder, red coral rouge and lipstick and matching nail polish. Blue eyeshadow and blue-green mascara."
"If you emphasize the pinkish tones in your skin and use a warm, bright rouge and lipstick the color will be more becoming."
Purple:
"The new purple shades are difficult colors to wear, so be sure to use a double application of pale peach foundation to give the skin an extra smooth texture and even coloring. Red coral rouge and lipstick have the clear quality that you need with difficult costume shades. Use blue eyeshadow if your eyes are blue, blue-green if they are brown."
"If you're in purple, lipstick and rouge ought to have bluish tones under the red."
"For lilac, mauve and violet, makeup base with a brownish undertone, a light shade of pinkish tan powder, red raspberry rouge, lipstick and nail polish. Black mascara and blue eyeshadow."
Green:
"For costumes of green – the vivid shades – a bright flame rouge and lipstick with pale rachel powder and green-gray eyeshadow could be tried out with effectiveness assured."
"For deep green costumes, use the same rouge, powder and lipstick shades, but use blue-green mascara and shadow according to the color of your eyes."
"For greens, from pale green to emerald and vivid green, makeup base with a brownish undertone, light shade of pinkish tan powder, red geranium lipstick, red strawberry rouge with a blue undertone, red geranium nail polish. Jade or emerald green eyeshadow, and blue-green mascara."
"Greens and yellow-greens are trying, but if you bring out the warm rose tones in your coloring you will stand a better chance of wearing these colors successfully. If these colors make your skin appear sallow, blend a little mauve face powder with the color you normally select to match your skin. Use a dark rosy lipstick to give your mouth a definite outline and a brown or grayish purple eyeshadow."
Blue:
"For blue apparel ensembles the 'blue' idea is stressed. The powder should have a good deal of purple pink in it, the rouge and lipstick with a purple cast. And blue eyeshadow by all means."
"If your favorite gown is in one of the bright new blue shades, use a soft peach shade of makeup base and powder and raspberry rouge and lipstick."
"For guardsman blue, dusty blue and other spring blues, peach makeup base, peach powder, red strawberry lipstick with a blue undertone, matching rouge and nail polish. Blue mascara and blue eyeshadow."
"Blue has a way of throwing bluish or purplish shadows on the face. Use a creamy tinted powder to soften this effect and use a lighter color of rouge and lipstick, yet one that is vivid and bright."
White:
"White requires little rouge – the amount that is chic with black is blatant with white – and the paler tones are more successful."
"White, like black, takes either a dark or a fair makeup, but nothing is more striking than white worn with the darker powders. Golden skins, tawny skins, make a gorgeous contrast with white."
Black:
"Black requires a more brilliant makeup to complement it than a color does. A powder as light as your skin tone permits, and the bright shades of rouge and lipstick, those on the geranium cast, prove most effective."
"Black is most striking and flattering when the skin is fair, pearly and transparent-looking. Black is not becoming with sun-tanned skin or sallow, yellowish skin. If your new fall costume is to be black, then you must get rid of your leftover tan and get your skin as freshly pink and white as possible…powder with a warm pinkish or peach cast, rouge and lipstick that are a blush rose or a frank red – those are good to wear with black."
Pastels:
"Shades which have a suggestion of blue in them call for a rouge with a blue cast. Shades with a hint of yellow look their best when the face is made up with rouge and lipsticks with an orange cast."
Vogue also offered general color coordination guidelines in their October 1, 1938 issue.
Another development in the 1930s was the recognition of the win-win situation offered by color-coordinated makeup and clothing. As early as 1932 both industries acknowledged the opportunity to profit through various types of partnerships. According to the December 30 issue of WWD that year, "Clothes-stylists and cosmetic experts are in a strong position to help each other today, with the result that more clothes and more cosmetics can be sold." The end of the decade marks the point at which cosmetic companies began creating makeup shades based on seasonal fashion colors and/or formally collaborating with fashion houses on colors.
Perhaps in an effort to outdo Elizabeth Arden, in the fall of 1938 Helena Rubinstein collaborated with noted milliner Marion Valle to produce the "vanity box of hats" series, a collection of 6 hats "based on the colors of six Rubinstein products." The hats and cosmetics were displayed together in department store windows.
To further emphasize the connection between fashion and cosmetics, it was around this time that companies began referring to color coordinated makeup using fashion terminology. Gone was the "ensemble"; enter the "wardrobe".
In short, the 1930s witnessed the solidification of clothing/makeup color coordination, mostly due to cosmetic and fashion companies realizing they could have mutually beneficial relationships in terms of sales, but also due in part to the greater trend of accessory coordination and the growth of the cosmetic industry more generally. The 1940s strengthened the notion of color coordination. The sales tactics, accessory coordination, and pre-made sets remained more or less the same. Advised a 1946 issue of Chain Store Age to salespeople, "Lipsticks must also harmonize with costume colors so women need a vari-colored lipstick wardrobe. Point out to your customer that she should have one for daytime, one for evening, one when her skin tans, etc."
In the spring of 1947, U.K. company Gala of London presented a similar idea to Arden's color capes by encouraging customers to visit their "Colour Room" with swatches of their dresses in hand. It's not clear whether they were inspired by Helena Rubinstein/Marion Valle partnership some 9 years prior, but Gala also collaborated with Gertrude Harris on several creations based on lipstick shades.
Seasonal colors really came into their own in the 1940s. Primrose House released a shade called Maraschino, a "cherry red designed for wear with summer clothes," while Revlon came up with Pink Lemonade and Red Punch for summer 1940.
Dorothy Gray continued introducing colors to go with the latest fashions, a tactic they had begun in the the late 1930s, but launched sets in addition to individual coordinated colors. The company was one of the first to present sets as a cost-effective way to have the necessary variety of colors on hand. "To offset the disadvantage and expense of various makeup colors to match costumes, there is a new 'Portrait Make-up' package at a nominal cost, which will harmonize with any color scheme milady might have for spring."7
Formal collaborations between cosmetic and fashion houses also continued in the '40s. Elizabeth Arden, still the runaway leader in fashion/makeup color coordination, began partnering with a collective named Color Affiliates in early 1940.
As a side note, some companies had a more literal interpretation of the lipstick wardrobe idea. Gala's set, most likely released during this decade, consisted of an outer box featuring an illustration of a wardrobe and slid open to reveal four colorful dress silhouettes with corresponding mini lipsticks.
Tussy's Kiltie Red was obviously named for the Scottish garb and the bottom of the tubes adorned with a plaid kilt-like ribbon.
While Elizabeth Arden was the preeminent expert in color coordination, in 1945 Helena Rubinstein introduced her "color spectrograph", which detailed makeup-dress coordination for five types.
Rubinstein introduced several products relating to the color spectrograph, including lipstick wardrobes in a pouch, Four-Cast lipsticks and Keys to Beauty sets. These were all basically the same concept but packaged differently. (Keys to Beauty had been launched previously in 1940, but was not marketed as a color-fashion coordinating set. Rather, there was only one set of three shades meant to be worn at different times of day.)
The lipstick tubes for the Four-Cast and Keys to Beauty were cleverly correlated to the outfit color family, i.e. the lipstick in the pink tube would go with pink or pastel outfits, while the shade in the green tube went with green or similarly colored outfits. (I would have taken these out to demonstrate but sadly, they had not an insignificant amount of mold.)
The idea of being able to pull off any color also continued as a selling point for makeup, although by this time fashion salespeople were officially in on the concept. As noted earlier, it was a win-win situation: if the only thing holding back a customer from buying an outfit in a hard-to-wear shade is makeup, it benefitted fashion companies to have their sales force advise buying the appropriate cosmetics. And voila! New outfit AND new makeup purchases means profits for designers and cosmetic companies alike. Echoing the commentary from 15 years prior, one department store buyer remarked in 1947, "A wide-awake ready-to-wear salesperson who has a customer who feels she cannot wear fall's vivid green or wine, can so easily suggest that the woman consult with the cosmetic department about a makeup which will alter her skin tone enough so that she can wear one or both of those colors, and wear them well! Toilet goods people can also suggest complete new makeups for customers who may mention that fall colors are difficult to wear." Additionally, the department store window cosmetic tie-ins that had begun in the early '30s had become de rigueur for the big makeup companies by the late 1940s.
The trend of selecting colors to go with one's clothing continued throughout the 1950s and early '60s, with more or less the same marketing tactics and new seasonal shades. Lipstick remained the key to color harmony.
Pre-made lipstick wardrobes continued to flourish, usually in sets of 3, 4 or 5 tubes.
Of note is Charles of the Ritz's lipstick wardrobe containing single-use matchsticks, which was introduced in 1952 after the company had success with an individual matchbook released in 1948.
In looking at these ads and guides, it seems being a woman back then must have been absolutely exhausting. Not only was one expected to wear makeup regularly, nails and clothing needed to coordinate with it. And not just a dress, but one's bag, shoes, hat, scarf, gloves, hosiery, etc. also had to "harmonize". According to the ads and advice at the time, it was simply a matter of planning ahead, but the process seemed extremely labor-intensive.
Possibly the strangest take on the makeup-clothing color coordination trend was a Pond's Angel Face campaign that ran from about 1959-1962. Their claim that using different tints of face powders would allow every outfit to be flattering no matter one's complexion. It wasn't a new idea, as Pond's actually offered a different powder in 1940 that advertised roughly the same notion. Pond's essentially took the color correcting/enhancing concept described in the 1927 news column by Lucille Buchanan a (questionable) step further. While swapping out lipstick shades to better coordinate with clothing makes sense in the abstract, trying to change one's entire complexion to suit a particular fashion color is a fool's errand. A dusting of bronzer, color correcting or translucent powder is fine; wearing the completely wrong shade of powder or base makeup will look odd, to say the least. Given the excessive number of ads (which mostly ran in Life magazine), it seems Pond's was set on convincing women they could in fact change their skin tone through powder rather than lipstick. I guess we should give them credit for going against the conventional wisdom that lipstick is the most important factor in makeup-outfit color harmony.
What's especially amusing about the ads is that Pond's wasn't actually applying differently colored face powders or even clothing to the models – it's very obvious it's the same series of photos artificially colorized.
Companies were still not finished with the lipstick wardrobe concept in the late '50s and early '60s. However, the shade ranges expanded considerably as cosmetic chemistry and technology improved. Compare, for example, the range of Coty's shades in 1961 vs. the lineup they offered a decade prior.
Pastels, corals, bright pinks, orange and iridescent shades were now considered as essential as different reds were in the 1930s and '40s. "Lipstick wardrobes should contain pale pastel tints, brilliant vibrant tones, medium shades and iridescent colors," notes one 1961 article. Another from 1962 states, "Every woman should own a lipstick wardrobe that includes a shade of coral that best becomes her, one of the pink-to-rose tint, and a clear red, which is the safest choice when in doubt" and a year later, "One color is never right for every costume. The lipstick wardrobe should always include at least an orange, a pink and a pure red lipstick."8
With more colors to choose from for both eyes and lips, pre-made wardrobes now included 5-10 mini lipsticks in addition to the usual 2-5 item sets. Experimentation and play also became a bigger part of the makeup-clothing color conversation. Whether this was due to the increased volume of available colors for which the established coordination rules didn't apply, or companies trying to shift away from rules so that customers felt more emboldened to buy a multitude of colors, or simply feeling the need try a new(ish) marketing tactic is anyone's guess.
The copy for Revlon's Colorkins, Tussy's Lipstack and Pond's Angel Face lipstick wardrobe utilized traditional color coordination sales tactics (i.e., the need to have a variety of colors conveniently on hand) as well as encouraged the customer to experiment. They also were proponents of mixing shades.
Despite these developments, some of the advice remained much the same as twenty years prior. The March 1961 issue of Glamour contained a feature on how to coordinate with the seven "happy colors" of spring. (Apologies for the wrinkled condition of these pages…not sure how they managed to get crumpled while sitting in storage.)
The color chart at the end of the feature is simply mind-boggling – even more complicated than what was outlined in the Redbook article. With the consideration of no fewer than 6 accessories along with makeup and outfit, were women really free to experiment? Obviously these were intended just as suggestions – indeed, as all makeup advice should be – and it's highly doubtful any woman followed this chart, or for that matter any other color-coordination advice, to the letter. As with the faux pas of not blotting one's lipstick properly on special lipstick tissues or handkerchiefs, clashing colors were not as big of a misstep as the marketing for such color coordination would lead one to believe. Yet I find it troubling that a chart detailing how to organize the colors of 8 different components was even conceptualized. Perhaps if women were kept busy figuring out what to wear with what they wouldn't notice how few rights they had, or be too exhausted to take action if they did. I'm not suggesting makeup-outfit color coordination was a nefarious plot devised by the patriarchy to distract women from fighting for equality, but there is a strong implication that they were expected to put at least a moderate amount of effort into their appearance. As we'll see in part two of this post, charts like this don't exist in mainstream magazines these days.
In conclusion, it seems that the attempts of both the fashion and cosmetic industries in the first part of the 20th century to ensure color harmony between makeup and clothing was little more than a cash grab. First, the shades from the 1930s through the early '50s really weren't all that different. Colors were more or less recycled from year to year, just given different names. Secondly, some customers were genuinely curious to learn what colors suited them and switched makeup based on their outfits purely for fun, in which case the advice and pre-made sets were of use to them. But the main narratives surrounding color coordination pushed by both industries – that women needed more than one shade of powder, lipstick and blush in order to really pull off any fashion color, and that they also needed to change seasonally – are false. Given the cost of owning multiple shades and outfits, it seems doubtful many customers bought into the hype and scrupulously followed the prescribed makeup-fashion color guidelines. If pre-made color coordinated sets were popular, most likely it was due to the simple appeal of being able to grab several shades conveniently packaged in one set rather than hours of careful outfit planning – at least one color from the set is bound to work, right? Perhaps also back then, with a limited selection of shades, it was more important to select the few colors that went best with one's coloring and wardrobe. These days, with the literally thousands of colors on the market and an array of custom-blending options, it's far easier for consumers to buy just one lipstick/powder that can be worn with all different color outfits. No one needs 10 lipsticks or powder (or any makeup, for that matter, but that's a whole other story) specifically for various clothing colors when a "my-lips-but-better" lipstick and translucent powder will suffice. This is to say nothing, of course, about the fact that there is no need to color coordinate between clothes and makeup at all. If you want to wear a cool purple lipstick with a warm red dress, go for it.
I don't know when part two will be arriving as I've neglected to follow up on a couple of other posts that need a second act, but stay tuned for more on fashion-makeup color coordination, which will cover the mid-1960s through today. In the meantime, what are your thoughts? And how many lipsticks do you own?
1Not all that significant, but worth mentioning is that in 1924 Bourjois disguised ads for their Peaches and Peaches and Cream face powders under the headline of "Does Your Makeup Match Your Costume?" and being appropriate for "the real outdoor girl" and to "give a 'health, vim and vigor' effect," respectively, making it possibly the first time a cosmetic company advertised dress-specific makeup.
2"Possibilities in Makeup," The Baltimore Sun, August 16, 1931.
3"Blonde or Brunette Can Try New Shades: Just Change Your Make-Up to Suit the Frock is Timely Hint to Timid Shopper," The Akron Beacon Journal, April 5, 1933.
4"Cosmetics Style Show Demonstrates Color for All Types: Lord & Taylor and Elizabeth Arden Collaborate in Costumes and Makeup in Special Blends," Women's Wear Daily, November 18, 1931.
5"Arnold Constable Promotes Vivid Makeup for White Summer Costumes: Coordination of Costumes and Cosmetics Stressed in Window Series Devoted to White Sportswear Accented by Bright Sun Tan Makeups," Women's Wear Daily, May 15, 1936.
6All of these tips came from the following articles:
"Match Makeup to the Costume!", Viola Paris (syndicated column), July 1930.
"Make the Tale Your Mirror Tells Please You," Helena Lundh, Winnipeg Tribune, May 31, 1931.
"A New Makeup Scheme for Winter: Smart Cosmetic Aids Must Blend Harmoniously with the Color of the Costume," Antoinette Donnelly (syndicated column), November 1931.
"Makeup Should Match Costume to Give Effect," Alicia Hart (syndicated column), September 1932.
"New Makeup Tone Said to Suit All Types," Jacqueline Hunt (syndicated column), October 1937.
"Match Makeup with Costume," Juliet Shelby (syndicated column), March/April 1938.
"Let Makeup Blend with Your Dress Colors for Spring Wear," Jacqueline Hunt (syndicated column), February/March 1939.
7"Beauty Expert Gives Spring Beauty Hints", March 28, 1941
8"Lipstick Hue Is the Key to Beauty," Abilene Reporter-News, June 9, 1961; "Key Lips, Nails to Fall Colors" by Alicia Hart (syndicated column), October 1962; "Say It With Lips" by Solange Bertrand, Baltimore Sun, March 31, 1963.
Today the Museum celebrates Indigenous People's Day with several beautiful collections from newcomer Prados Beauty. While I would like to examine the traditional cosmetic practices of Native Americans and other Indigenous people around the world1, I'm still debating whether that would do more harm than good, so I thought highlighting a new brand was the way to go.
Prados Beauty was established in 2018 by makeup artist and entrepreneur Cece Meadows, whose background inspired her to create the line. The oldest of four children, Meadows was raised in a small farm town in Arizona. "We didn’t have a lot, but we had each other. School was my safe haven, so I thrived there and ended up being the first in my family to graduate from college," she says. Meadows excelled at a career in finance in her early '20s, but suffered a cancer diagnosis at 27. The U.S. healthcare system being what is, insurance only covered a small portion of necessary care, and Meadows found herself broke and homeless shortly after going into remission. But her passion for makeup and drive to create a space for Indigenous people within the beauty sphere led to a cross-country move to cosmetology school in New York City. In 2018 Meadows became the first Native American makeup artist to head a show backstage for New York Fashion Week. She established Prados Beauty the same year and began selling the products online in 2019. "I grew up in a negative environment, but there was always a spark in me that wanted something better. As an adult, that has helped me get myself out of places when I’ve been stuck. I’ve always dreamed of owning my own cosmetics line. My passions are doing makeup and doing philanthropic work, so I figured out a way to make those two things go together."
Meadows, who identifies as half Chicana, half Native American (Yaqui and Comanche), explains that the lack of representation in the beauty industry was a key factor in starting her own brand. "Growing up as a Xicana and Indigenous girl, I never saw representation of my people in an accurate light," she says. "When I became a professional makeup artist and would show up in some of my traditional regalia to NYFW or professional photoshoot, I was shocked at the lack of education and awareness from models and designers of Indigenous people…It wasn’t until I was 30 years old that I saw an Indigenous woman in the public spotlight without being oversexualized. It was in 2015 when a First Nations Cree woman, Ashley Callingbull, was crowned Miss Universe in 2015. It was an emotional, yet exciting moment for me. I remember watching the crowning while holding my young son and thinking, 'we not only have been robbed of our lands, our culture, our beauty, our stories and our people but now we have to compete for a crown that we have always worn.'"
For Meadows, starting her own beauty brand was a way to reclaim Native culture and make it visible within the industry. "I have watched companies and clothing brands appropriate our culture and designs for years and I wanted to take that back. I wanted to create a brand that was 100% inclusive, but highlighted the beauty and story of who we are today. Our brand is about being really proud of who we are and telling our story through makeup. In public schools, you, unfortunately, aren’t really taught the truth about the events that truly unfolded in the United States against Native Peoples. So when my people don’t see ourselves in the mainstream, we make our own way. We support our own, we hype up our own, we become this secret society of creativity and artistic talent that the world fails to see. But we see, we know, and the acknowledgment of our own becomes enough. Because I mean what else are we going to do? Disappear? Never. Our generation has become a fierce generation, filled with hunger and audacity to believe and know that we are worthy of conquering spaces we have been told for hundreds of years we didn’t belong in. This is why I created Prados."
Accessibility and education of non-Native people were also priorities for Meadows. Individual products are priced around $40 and under. "It is always important for me to have affordable price points. One thing I remember growing up as a kid was not being able to afford things that I felt I needed to have as a budding makeup artist," she says. Additionally, being an inclusive brand with an outward focus on Native American pride encourages customers to learn about Native people's heritage, or at least be more mindful of it. Says Meadows, "Every time we gain a new follower, I get excited because it’s one more person who learns about our beautiful culture and our stories. [Prados] has inspired consumers to learn about Indigenous culture. They know that we’re not just a false Pocahontas story, and we can remind people that we’re more than a genocide in a history book. We’re still here."
Meadows' goals are identical to those of Steven Paul Judd, the Kiowa-Choctaw artist responsible for the designs on several Prados Beauty collections. Like Meadows, Judd noticed a dearth of authentic Native American figures across all areas of pop culture and understood the necessity in carving out a space for Native representation through art. "[I] make things that I want to see. So I like cool pop stuff, right? And I like movies and music, and I'm also Native American. I grew up on a reservation when I was a kid, went to an all-Native college. I like my Native stuff, obviously, but I still like things that other people like. I live in the same world that other people live in, and I just found that there wasn't what I felt was cool, pop culture stuff made for me—stickers, toys, action figures—I didn't feel like they were necessarily speaking to things that I saw or that my family saw, so I decided to do my best to try to make my own…Imagine growing up and in every movie, television show and ad featuring people who looked like you and your family, they were only shown in historical context. It would be like white people were only portrayed as Pilgrims. [The] only Native Americans I was able to see on TV were Iron Eyes Cody—he did those trash commercials, and he wasn’t even Native, he was Italian—and Ponch on Chips, but he wasn’t Native American, and we had Tonto, Jay Silverheels, on old reruns, but besides historical Westerns, I didn’t see any Natives anywhere in popular culture at all."
Judd is a prolific filmmaker and writer, but he is perhaps best known for his witty mashups of pop culture icons with Native American imagery. Everything from comics and toys to TV and movies are re-envisioned with Native historical figures and traditions. Ultimately, says Judd, "I wanted to make the stuff I never got to see as a kid."
By giving cultural mainstays like Superman and The Incredible Hulk a Native American spin, Judd deftly upends the dominant narrative. The juxtaposition of Native Americans with easily recognizable cultural references, or the entire replacement of these figures with images of Native Americans and symbols results in an amusing yet profound commentary on the erasure of Native populations and offers a way for them to reclaim their space.
While most of Judd's work appears lighthearted on the surface, there's an underlying poignancy in some of his projects that makes the viewer think on a deeper level. Take, for example, his Star Wars series, which recast some of the characters as Native American, thereby creating a new narrative that represents the struggle for freedom among tribes. Judd also makes a point of showing the appropriation of Princess Leia's iconic bun hairstyle, which most likely originated from photos of women from the Hopi tribe.
Judd's take on the popular "Space Invaders" video game that was developed with graphic designer Elizabeth LaPensée, in which the players are Native Americans using bows and arrows to ward off an alien invasion, is also a bit weightier than the likes of the artist's PowWow Rangers and Mindions. "You can read into it," he explains, "someone is trying to invade where you are living, you know, peacefully. I tell people it’s the only time you’re allowed to play Indian and not get in trouble." As this article neatly summarizes, the game "is archetypal of Judd’s work, which provocatively combines the ongoing history of subjugation of Native Americans (especially the violation of land treaties) with the mundanity and ephemera of day-to-day life. Judd’s work challenges stereotypes about Native Americans and dehistoricizes the atrocities of the past."
What's especially interesting about his love of pop culture is that Judd grew up in a home that was less than well-off financially, with no access to television until late childhood. His first encounter with TV was during a hospital stay. Judd's work is also extraordinary considering he is entirely self-taught. For photographic imagery in particular, he quickly realized he would have to get acquainted with the proper techniques and software in order to make his ideas come to fruition. "Any of the graphic design stuff I’ve done, I learned how to do it on Photoshop…learning Photoshop is tedious, but I wanted to learn because I couldn’t get these ideas in my head. I couldn’t make them unless I learned. No one’s going to make a vintage boxing poster with Sitting Bull and Custer unless you make it yourself," he states. And he's right: I can think of zero Indigenous artists who are remixing cultural touchstones in this manner.
Judd's unique re-imagining of pop culture references has drawn apt comparisons to Andy Warhol. Like the legendary pop artist, Judd cleverly skewers mainstream American culture, except instead of mindless consumerism Judd's critique mostly focuses on the overwhelming lack of Native American figures and traditions. Judd is flattered by the comparison, calling himself "Andy Warrior-hol", while simultaneously acknowledging that the American pop art tradition – including the deification of artists like Warhol – is largely devoid of Native voices. Case in point: a cheeky remix of Warhol's famous cow wallpaper.
Judd's emphasis on accessibility and education through art also parallel Meadows' prioritization of these areas. While a recent painting of Judd's sold for nearly $20,000, variouswebsites offer stickers, t-shirts and other items showcasing his work at affordable prices. And like Prados Beauty, much of Judd's oeuvre provides an approachable means of educating non-Native viewers. By framing it as "cool stuff" that the average 12 year-old would be interested in, Judd makes his history more palatable to non-Native Americans. "[I] want people to see the images and realize on their own that they had something to learn…Honestly, I’m creating art for my 12-year-old self. I wanted cool stuff, too – skateboards with Native imagery, action figures, sneakers – what 12-year old doesn’t? [But I want to] educate people on some things without talking down to them or yelling at them. They can laugh at it, like ‘Oh wait, did that really happen?’ and they can learn from it, starting from a humorous point," he says. This is not to suggest that the atrocities committed against Indigenous populations should be made easily digestible for white people, but humor is one of many useful tools in learning difficult subject matter. Plus, as Meadows noted earlier, it demonstrates that the histories of marginalized groups are so much more than genocide and stereotypes.
Given how the perspectives and missions of Judd and Meadows align so closely, an ongoing collaboration is no surprise. As Meadows remarks, "I feel like his art is a perfect fit for our brand because he takes everyday things like cartoons, television shows and movies we grew up watching, and indigenizes it. My boys love that poster I have hanging in their room because they identify with it. I feel like he always tries to create art that we can associate with and see ourselves in." Prados Beauty approached Judd to create artwork for the packaging of a new eyeshadow palette in 2020. As Judd wanted the image to look modern and reflect the shades in the palette, he came up brightly colored, mosaic-like portraits of Pretty Nose and Stampede. I don't know about you, but as soon as I laid eyes on them I had to look into their histories. Educating people through makeup and art absolutely works!
Pretty Nose was an Arapaho (some sources say Cheyenne) warrior chief who fought in the Battle of Little Bighorn in 1876. The Stampede portrait is based on a photo of a Dakota chief taken around 1900. Sadly there was not much more readily available information on either.
The style is reminiscent of a work he created a little later for a display outside the Arthur Ashe Stadium at the 2021 U.S. Open. Judd explains the inspiration for the piece. "When most people think of Native Americans, they think of them as a monolith. But there are over 500 different tribes in the US alone. Each with their own unique culture. From their music and food to their songs and language. I wanted to do a mosaic, each beautiful color representing the many different tribes across the land."
Once again, Judd's vision lines up with that of Prados Beauty. A colorful mosaic is a way of bringing all the tribes together while recognizing their individuality. Says Meadows, "When I think of Indigenous beauty, I think of amplifying the voices of not just one particular tribe but all of us together. Using vibrant seeds of color like turquoise and yellow and orange helps accomplish that."
Just last week, Prados released their new collection entitled Matriarch. According to the website: "For this collection we wanted to put together something beautiful, colorful and powerful! We wanted to honor all the matriarchs in our lives by showing up and showing out!" It's a great theme as many Native American tribes were matriarchal and matrilineal.
I must disclose that I received the entire Matriarch PR box by mistake. It was meant to go a media contact, but somehow ended up at Museum headquarters. I was really looking forward to receiving what I had actually ordered, which was the Steven Paul Judd 2.0 palette, highlighter and collector's box, so you can imagine my shock when I opened the package to see roughly triple the products I had ordered, with beautiful images on the packaging I didn't recognize. I emailed customer service and offered to send it back (even though I didn't want to, LOL), and within a few hours I received a reply from Cece Meadows herself! She generously allowed me to hang onto the whole box of goodies and, per the included instructions, requested that I not reveal anything until the collection officially dropped. It was all very exciting, for a second I felt like an influencer! I was absolutely flabbergasted that the Museum could keep everything. Plus, my original order arrived a day or two later.
The collection includes an eyeshadow palette, three face palettes, 5 lipsticks, an eyeliner and eyelash glue, two sets of false eyelashes, and a cute little LED mirror.
The imagery Judd created for the packaging for the Matriarch lineup is more varied than the previous collection. As a collector, I appreciate that different images were used on different products.
Aren't these lipsticks delicious looking? Love the hot pink cases too. Another great thing about Prados is that a whopping 50% (yes, you read that correctly) of profits go to Indigenous communities and people in need, including veterans, single parents, and children with special needs. "Both personally and professionally, I remember every disappointment when I just needed support to get me through tough situations. So I always promised myself during my prayer times that if I ever found myself in a position where I could live comfortably and my family was taken care of, I was going to help people — especially right now during the pandemic. I have raised over $20K to purchase PPE for Native American communities all over the US, Mexico and Canada…In addition, we buy kids shoes for back-to-school season, clothes, jackets and school supplies. We pay rent for single moms, college tuition and living expenses. We even threw a baby shower last year," says Meadows. She also recently launched the Prados Life Foundation to help facilitate donations.
Prados Beauty lipsticks from the Matriarch collection. Left to right: Jingle Dancer, Chola Vibez, Mirabella, Guerrera, Taos
I'm really enjoying Prados, and I'm not just saying that because they accidentally sent me an amazing PR box and allowed the Museum to hang onto it. After reading more about Meadows and her mission, this is definitely a company you can feel good about buying from, with gorgeous and inspired packaging to boot. I also love Judd's work as it provides food for thought without being preachy, and well, you know how I much I adore fresh takes on traditional pop culture. If he referenced some '90s TV shows or movies I would lose my mind. Finally, I can't think of a better collaboration between a brand and an artist – these two were a match made in heaven. As someone who researches makeup and grew up on a steady diet of mainstream American TV/movies/etc., I can think of only a handful of Indigenous makeup brands, makeup artists, influencers and models, and the scarce portrayals of Indigenous people in pop culture were largely either stereotypes or downright racist.2 There is a dire need to make space for and raise the visibility of Native American and other Indigenous cultures, and both Meadows and Judd are doing a tremendous job helping to fill that void through their respective crafts.
What do you think?
1 While sometimes used this way, Indigenous is not totally interchangeable with Native American. Indigenous refers to those populations living together prior to European colonization. These populations exist outside the United States and on every continent, therefore, while Native Americans are Indigenous, not all Indigenous people are Native American. Check out this site for more information.
2A personal anecdote. The district in Pennsyltucky (excuse me, Pennsylvania) where I attended junior high and high school was named for a local Native American tribe that presumably white people had wiped out. The school's mascot shares its name with a certain Washington football team. As a teenager it finally dawned on me just how awful it was, but any time I brought it up I was told that it wasn't offensive in the slightest and that I was being "oversensitive". As far as I know my former high school STILL thinks it's okay to use it. Thank goodness for Meadows, Judd and shows like Reservation Dogs. It's from the same brilliant people who brought us the hilarious What We Do in the Shadows, so definitely check it out.
