I really enjoyed the shorter bits of history that appeared between chapters in Lisa Eldridge's Face Paint. I liked the idea so much, in fact, that I decided to steal it and use it for my '90s makeup history book. Prom makeup is just one of the many featurettes I want to include. And I realize that prom season has come and gone by this point, but I'm still thinking how crazy it is that I graduated high school and attended my senior prom 25 years ago this spring! So with that, let's see what pop culture and magazine editorials were recommending in terms of prom makeup. Obviously this isn't meant to be an exhaustive list of every '90s prom look ever and how they compare to today's styles, nor is it a philosophical examination of prom and its greater cultural or social significance, especially for teenage girls. This post is really more of a nostalgic snapshot, especially since sources were hard to find. There are tons of vintage prom photos online but the makeup is barely visible, either because analog photos rarely translate well to digital images or because they were taken at a distance. Very few clear, closeup images of old prom makeup exist, so I had to rely mostly on magazines, movies and TV episodes and they weren't great quality either. Also, I credited where I could, but not all information was available for every photo.
Overall, the decade followed the general makeup trends of the time. As a sort of backlash to the bright colors and general excess of the '80s, from about 1990-1994 the majority of prom looks featured minimal, barely perceptible makeup.
Minimal prom looks from Seventeen Magazine, 1992 (left) and 1991 (right). Credits for 1992: Hair – Hubert Cartier and Gili. Makeup: Timothy Metz. Photography: Wayne Stambler. Credits for 1991: Hair – Rodney Groves; Makeup – Timothy Metz; Photography – Tierney Gearon.
Sassy Magazine, 1993. Hair – Daniel Howell; Makeup – Wei Lang; Photography – David Jensen
Are these girls even wearing makeup?! I guess they are since the credits list a makeup artist, but it's nearly invisible.
YM Magazine prom edition, 1994. Credits for top photos: Hair – Christopher Lockhart for Sarah Laird; Makeup – Christy Coleman for Jed Root, Inc. Credits for bottom photos: Hair – Brent Lavent for Celestine; Makeup – Laura Jadro for Visage; Photography – Carlo Dalla Chiesa
YM Magazine prom edition, 1994. Hair – Christopher Lockhart for Sarah Laird; Makeup – Mathew Sky for Vartali Salon. Makeup by Maybelline.
Sassy Magazine, March 1994. Hair – Daniel Howell for Oribe; Makeup – Regina Harris; Photography – Cathrine Wessel
Julia Stiles's character in 1999's 10 Things I Hate About You opted for a minimal look for prom, but this might have been more of a stylistic choice to go match her personality rather than a reflection of late '90s trends. Kat Stratford would never go for the glitter, frost and pastel colors that were popular towards the end of the decade.
Julia Stiles as Kat Stratford in 10 Things I Hate About You, 1999. Makeup artist: Martin 'Vinnie' Hagood
Another trend early on was a return to old school glam. Red matte lips, with or without a winged liner but always keeping the rest of the face neutral, was a popular choice.
Kelly (Jennie Garth) and Brenda (Shannen Doherty) in Beverly Hills, 90210 "Spring Dance" episode, 1990. Key makeup artist – Sheree Morgan; makeup artist – Alex Proctor.
Seventeen Magazine, March 1991. Hair – Gabriel Saba for John Sahag Salon; Makeup – Jacqui Lefton; Photographer – Dewey Nicks; Model – Limor Luss
Kellie Martin in Seventeen Magazine, March 1992. Hair – Patrick Melville for MCM Salon; Makeup – Tracy Sondern; Photography – Bico Stupakoff
Sassy Magazine, March 1995. Hair – Diane Wiedenmann; Makeup – Sharon Gault for Cloutier
Again, as with 10 Things I Hate About You's Kat, I think Heather's (Mena Suvari) red lip more a stylistic choice to better suit the character rather than part of a real-world trend. (Sorry about the lack of quality in this photo, I couldn't find a decent shot anywhere. Also, no fewer than 7 makeup artists for American Pie are listed at IMDB so it's not clear who chose her look.)
Just based on these candids from YM's prom issues, it seems like a lot of girls opted for a red lip or the minimal look for prom for 1993 and 1994.
YM Magazine prom edition, 1993
YM Magazine prom edition, 1994
There was also a somewhat odd combination of soft smoky matte grey or brown shadow and a desaturated but noticeable lip color. I don't really remember this look, probably because I can't say that the early '90s take on a smoky eye is a look I enjoy. It just looks flat and muddy, plus very amateur despite the professional application. It's like someone dipped their fingers into shadow, swiped them across their lids, added a touch of mascara and declared their eye makeup finished. Which would be fine with different textures and shades, but matte shadow in these colors requires some definition.
Seventeen Magazine, March 1992
YM Magazine prom edition 1993
My opinion is that it suits nobody, not even Heidi Klum.
YM Magazine prom edition 1994. Credits for left photo: Gerald DeCock for Louis Licari Color Group; Makeup – Christy Coleman for Jed Root, Inc. Credits for right photo: Hair – Lawrence DePalma for Pierre Michel Salon; Makeup – Christy Coleman for Jed Root, Inc. Model: Heidi Klum
A monochromatic face is surprisingly artistic and flattering if there's variation in textures and finishes between eyes, cheeks and lips. Matte brown shadow with seemingly no other eye makeup besides a hint of mascara and paired with a warm, orange-brown lip isn't great on most people. Case in point: these prom looks from the March 1994 issue of Seventeen. I know they were really meant to show the hairstyle, but they are so boring! Plus it looks awful on the skin tone of the particular model that was chosen – the poor thing looks like the life got sucked out of her. This combination only works on very specific coloring.
Seventeen Magazine, March 1994. Hair – Mara Schiavetti; Makeup – Cindy Joseph
Matte, one-dimensional shadow works if the eyeliner is noticeably darker and there is a contrast in tone for the lip color, as in YM's 1993 prom editorial.
YM Magazine prom edition, 1993. Model: Lana Ogilvie. Makeup Artist: Craig Gadson for Cover Girl.
But there is hope. Around 1996 is when we start to see a move away from matte textures and neutral shades. Bring on the metallics, the frost, the GLITTER!!
Seventeen Magazine, March 1997. Hair – Dennis DeVoy for Garren New York; Makeup – Kiyoshi for Oribe Salon; Photography – Iris Brosch
There were literally dozens of makeup artists who worked on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so I'm not sure who was responsible for Buffy's prom makeup, which consisted of a soft silvery grey eyeshadow and pearly pink gloss.
Sarah Michelle Gellar in "The Prom" episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 1999
Complexion-wise, foundation was less heavy and flat. Even though the early '90s embraced the minimal look, skin still looked a bit dull. There were also few glossy lips to be found. The later part of the decade witnessed a shift towards fresher-looking skin (perhaps more blush added to this effect) and the rise of super shiny lips, which would continue into the early 2000s.
Also, there was interest in color again – no longer was the palette limited mostly to red, pink, grey and brown. Blue, peach, yellow, violet and green peeked their eager little faces out for the first time in what seemed like ages.
Sassy Magazine, March 1996
Sassy Magazine, March 1996
Sassy Magazine, March 1996
Seventeen Magazine, March 1997. Hair – Dennis DeVoy for Garren New York; Makeup – Kiyoshi for Oribe Salon; Photography – Iris Brosch
Seventeen Magazine, March 1998. Hair – Kevin Woon; Makeup – Kiyoshi; Photography – Marc Baptiste
Seventeen Magazine, March 1998. Hair – Kevin Woon; Makeup – Kiyoshi; Photography – Marc Baptiste
I really wish I could have found better photos of the makeup in prom scenes from movies and TV. (Seriously though, what was up with all the prom sequences in films from 1999? It seems nearly every teen movie made that year had one.) In these stills that I screenshotted and tried to brighten from She's All That you can sort of make out Laney's violet eyeshadow and browbone highlight.
Rachel Leigh Cook as Laney Boggs in She's All That, 1999. Head makeup artist – Felicity Bowring; Makeup artists – Raqueli Dahan, Jane Galli and Lisa Layman
Meanwhile, mean girl Taylor Vaughan (Jodi Lyn O'Keefe) rocked a monochromatic gold look, complete with face and body glitter. Peak '90s!
And let's not forget Courtney's epic frosty blue eyeshadow in 1999's Jawbreaker. Once again there was a huge makeup department so whose idea it was I'm not sure.
Now there were some trends that appeared in various iterations throughout the whole decade rather than being confined to certain years. Pink reigned supreme for prom makeup in the '90s. Whether it was full-on bubblegum or a more natural, "romantic" look, rosy hues were a staple.
YM Magazine prom edition 1992. Hair – Brian Devine, Oribe at Elizabeth Arden; Makeup – Melissa Rogers
Kellie Martin in Seventeen Magazine, March 1992. Hair – Patrick Melville for MCM Salon; Makeup – Tracy Sondern; Photography – Bico Stupakoff
Sassy Magazine, March 1992. Hair – Colleen Creighton for Pierre Michel; Makeup – Lutz; Photography – Steven Miller
Sassy Magazine, March 1992. Hair – Colleen Creighton for Pierre Michel; Makeup – Lutz; Photography – Steven Miller
Sassy Magazine, March 1994. Hair – Daniel Howell for Oribe; Makeup – Regina Harris; Photography – Cathrine Wessel
YM Magazine prom edition, 1994
YM Magazine prom edition, 1994. Hair – Gerald DeCock for Louis Licari Color Group; Makeup – Mara Schiavetti for Jean Owen
Sassy Magazine, March 1995. Hair – Diane Wiedenmann; Makeup – Sharon Gault for Cloutier
Seventeen Magazine, March 1991. Hair – Gabriel Saba for John Sahag Salon; Makeup – Jacqui Lefton; Photographer – Dewey Nicks
Seventeen Magazine, March 1994. Hair – Debbie Horgan; Makeup – Lorraine Leckie; Photography – Troy House
The most outrageous example is possibly from 1999's Never Been Kissed. It's like '60s mod meets Evening Gown Barbie, Disco Barbie and Malibu Barbie, respectively (at least, according to the characters).
Never Been Kissed, 1999 with Kristin (Marley Shelton), Kirsten (Jessica Alba) and Gibby (Jordan Ladd). Makeup dept. head – Kimberly Greene; Makeup artists: Joni Powell and Lyssa Wittlin Baumert
Yours truly opted for the more subtle look. Yup, that's the Curator at age 17, doing her best impression of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's for her senior prom. I eschewed my usual dark plum lip in favor of Holly Golightly's pale pink, and though you can't make it out in this old picture, I also had some pretty serious feline eyeliner. (I actually am a disaster at winged liner; my sister's friend did my makeup). Too bad I had to ruin my updo by adding the ever-present '90s tendril…then again, the bangs were already atrocious. But I loved my makeup, gloves, jewelry (shout-out to Y necklaces!), and dress. I really regret getting rid of those last two.
Finally, grunge, goth and punk influences occasionally emerged from subculture status on a decade-wide basis.
Sassy Magazine, March 1993. Hair – Daniel Howell. Makeup – Wei Lang. Photography – David Jensen
Seventeen Magazine, March 1997. Hair – Pasquale Ferrante; Makeup – Susan McCarthy for Shu Uemura; Photography – Grey Zisser
The models aren't named in these next two photos but I'm almost positive I spy Alexis Bledel.
Seventeen Magazine, March 1998. Hair – Kevin Woon; Makeup – Kiyoshi; Photography – Marc Baptiste
Seventeen Magazine, March 1998. Hair – Kevin Woon; Makeup – Kiyoshi; Photography – Marc Baptiste
There were a handful of exceptions to all the usual looks. In one feature from YM's 1993 prom edition, a red lip was paired with a pale gold shadow rather than brown or grey and it actually looks like some blush was applied. I would absolutely wear this today (minus the skinny brows, of course.)
Hair – Howard Barr for Celestine; Makeup – Wendy Osmundson for Cloutier; Model – Melissa Billingsly.
These next two looks had some appealing contrast between eyes and lips. While the eyebrow shapes are firmly '90s, the mix of either cool purple or silver shadow with a satin-finish plum or pink lip falls outside the usual trends from the era.
YM Magazine prom edition, 1993. Hair – Phillippe Barr for Salon Ziba; Makeup – Kelly Quan for Sarah Laird.
YM Magazine prom edition 1992. Hair – Brian Devine, Oribe at Elizabeth Arden; Makeup – Melissa Rogers
And here's another monochromatic gold look, but it's several years ahead of its time.
Seventeen Magazine, March 1994
But there weren't really many outliers. Overall, prom makeup in the '90s seemed very much a microcosm of the larger trends of the decade. It was a little disappointing not to uncover any totally atypical looks (although I do think the late '90s was way more fun than the start of the decade). But I'm guessing the big magazines and movie studios/TV shows weren't going to push much unconventional prom makeup or feature anyone who wore it, and those who would opt for more daring looks on a regular basis probably weren't going to prom. Fortunately, mainstream media has somewhat caught on to a new aesthetic. The styles are very safe in most magazine covers and online content. The looks are nice and definitely updated from the '90s, but they are, shall we say, basic, or mimicking "Instagram" style makeup. However, a closer look suggests there is experimental, Euphoria-type makeup being recommended, such as the incorporation of embellishments (flowers, gems, etc.), graphic liner in a bright color, or creative use of glitter. For example, compare several of Seventeen's recent prom covers with their online recommendations, or the fairly unremarkable cover look on Teen Vogue's 2014 prom issue with the far more interesting editorial inside. (Diversity in terms of race and body shape/size still needs work.)
Seventeen Magazine prom edition – 2015, 2016 and 2019 covers
Seventeen Magazine prom looks featured online, 2020
I was very relieved to see these looks, as I was horrified at the possibility of Gen Z'ers receiving the same advice that me and my fellow Gen X'ers did, i.e., to play it safe. In my day prom was akin to one's wedding in terms of makeup (which is another whole disturbing can of worms that I don't want to open right now.) The most common tips for both occasions were to play up one feature only, stay away from using multiple colors, and don't deviate much from your everyday look, along with a bunch of tricks to help one's makeup last longer. Ho-hum.
Not surprised by Bobbi advocating for safe makeup.
If simple and natural is your style, or you don't want to try anything too wild for a big occasion, great! But I'd like it if makeup that actually takes risks were as normalized as looks featuring minimal makeup.
While this hasn't been the most insightful post, a glimpse of '90s prom makeup serves as a good refresher on the decade and helps give more context to the trends. Plus as a print junkie, it was insanely fun to flip through old magazines. (The movies did not hold up well..although honestly even at the time they were fairly problematic.) It kind of makes me want to do a whole book or exhibition on prom makeup from all decades. 😉
Any favorite looks here? Did you attend any proms or formals in high school and if so, do you remember your makeup or have any photos you'd be willing to share?
As skincare falls outside the Museum's purview and the Micro Essence is not cheap ($120 a pop) I did not purchase them, but I'm sort of wishing I had even though the designs are the same as on the lipsticks. I feel they can be seen a little better on the bottles than the lipsticks.
Lady Aiko (Aiko Nakagawa) was born and raised in the bustling Shinjuku area of Tokyo. She was always creating – whether drawings or collages – and also enjoyed painting with an artist who lived in the neighborhood. "[There] was a painter lady who lived on the corner and my mother supported her as an art tutor. So when I was five years old I used to go to her studio and paint with her a lot. That was my favorite thing to do when I was young," she says.
The artist at age 5.
Upon moving to New York City in 1997, she began working for the legendary Takashi Murakami. Aiko knew very little English, and while the Internet existed people weren't connecting online the way they do now. It was Murakami's signature happy flower posted on a flyer that helped get her start. "I found an advertisement in a Japanese supermarket in the East Village. I came to New York alone and I didn’t know anyone, so it was hard to connect with people and it was very expensive to make a phone call to Japan. I was just starting to learn English and I was looking for artist community. So I went into the supermarket and I found an advertisement that said 'Assistant Wanted.' I saw that cute character that Murakami does, and I thought it was something I can try and maybe I can make some friends. So I knocked on the door and said hello. His studio was in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and this was 1998, way before Williamsburg became what Williamsburg is today. I remember it was quite a scary area at that time. The studio itself was very small. It was really intimate before he became a super well known fine artist. I was helping him for about a year and a half, painting and taking care of the studio as he was getting ready for his first solo show, Super Flat, in SoHo. I also documented the production and made a documentary film about the show. It was a small production at this point, but I really liked it because it was the first time I got to see a Japanese artist working in New York City, and it was really inspiring."
Aiko left Murakami's studio after a year and a half and earned an MFA in Media Studies at The New School. Over the next few years she worked as the founding member of an art collective known as FAILE, where the roots of her signature motifs such as butterflies and flowers began to take hold. In 2006 Aiko established herself as Lady Aiko. The first stencil work she intended for street art was an image of a bunny holding a spray paint can, which she had thought of in 2005 during her time with FAILE. "I remember when I was in London, Banksy said he liked it and I should keep doing it, even though no one got it at the time. So I started stenciling the bunny along with some images of sexy girls, and other romantic images. I have been stenciling that image everywhere from Toyko to Shanghai, Instanbul, Berlin, Rome, Amsterdam, Scandinavia and of course throughout the States…Bunny knows all my missions and we have been spreading little smiles to huge wows in every local neighborhood." The bunny has since become possibly Lady Aiko's most recognizable work, gracing everything from Banksy's bathroom door (her very first painted Bunny) to the sides of buildings like this one in Copenhagen.
I also really like the bunny as a Dunny, which was released in 2010. I picked it up because it worked well as a prop and it's adorable. I especially appreciate the "Girls Can Play" slogan on the back.
As Lady Aiko acclimated to New York's urban environment and expanded her artistic skills, she gradually found street art more appealing than working in a studio. "There was another girl who was working at Murakami’s studio, and her boyfriend Cer was a graffiti writer, so he introduced me to graffiti while I was working at the studio…When he came to studio and picked her up, he showed me his sketch books and photographs. That was something new and shocking in a good way. I discovered that there was this group of people that were getting together and going to an underground tunnel, or to somewhere abandoned, just to make some art and have a good time. I was a curious young girl, and I thought that’s something more interesting than sitting in a studio all day and making tedious and detailed artwork for a Japanese artist…I wanted to join them and work on crazy art on the street," she recalls.
The democratic nature of street art and relative anonymity it afforded while still being able to connect with others were also attractive to Lady Aiko. "For me, street art was a way to make friends since I didn't have YouTube or Facebook, Instagram. So it's like leaving my hashtag and my art mark on the street…I didn’t know anyone when I moved to New York, I didn’t even speak English, so street art became my language. I met a lot of artists through painting on the street, and we taught each other and grew together. When I started, painting on the street was illegal. I didn’t want to show who I was, at the risk of being arrested, so no one knew I was a woman. No one knew I was Japanese. They only knew me through my painting. I wanted to be a mysterious monster and let the work speak for itself…I think street art is art for everyone. It’s not for the fancy people, it’s for everyone and everyone can see it."
Unlike most other street artists, Lady Aiko utilizes a stencil technique. While stencils appear fairly simple to make at first glance, the amount of work and time involved in hand-cutting the hundreds of stencils necessary to create a large-scale work is no easy feat. Aiko elaborates on the painstaking process: "You have to spend a lot of time before [you] start painting. I normally cut stencil all by my hand it's like my first stage of the production. For this wall [in Eugene, Oregon], I spent two days cutting stencil and sometimes like I spent like months and months just cutting stencil for a big size wall. And after you cut the stencil I need to carry all the pieces of paper to the site. I need an assistant when I do a large scale mural because the size of [the] stencil is also enormous…there really aren’t a lot of stencil artists out there anymore. Nowadays they do a lot of machine cuts, but I do it all by hand." Whew!
But Lady Aiko actually enjoys the process as well as the physical rigor involved in painting on such a large scale. "I think street art is also like an athletic game for me. Like climbing up the ladder, up and down, and up and down, and carrying buckets of paints. It's like, you know, an athletic game."
Stylistically Lady Aiko's work differs from that of Yoon Hyup, the Korean-born street artist/muralist who collaborated on Bobbi Brown's spring 2019 collection, but thematically they are similar in that both pay homage to their cultural heritage, fusing traditional influences from their respective native countries with a modern city's energy. For Lady Aiko, distance from Japan helped her learn about and respect Japanese art and history all the more. "The more I stay away from Japan, the more I appreciate my country, culture, traditions. I’ve started to study more about Japanese heritage, because I discovered it’s interesting and super unique, and I am from there. Especially the art, fashion and culture in the Edo period, which was all invented and created by working class people in old Tokyo, we used to call Edo City. We used to have such great art forms and techniques such as Kabuki, tattoo, calligraphy, kimono textiles, wood block prints. These were amazing skillful art forms invented in 17th century. Hokusai and Utumaro were the original ukiyoe print masters, and I love and respect them as great artists. Printing was not just happening in the Warhol times, it was happening all the way back in my country 200 years ago. I thought 'holy shit! I didn’t realized that my great grandfathers were doing such dope stuff.' I also discovered that old Japanese people used to do graffiti. The Japanese word for graffiti is RakuGaki. Raku means drop and Gaki means draw, so they used to make a drawing or a print, and they used to drop it on the street anonymously so that people would pick it up. It could be more for a political purpose and message, but it sounds like street art and sounds fun. We also used to have beautiful sticker culture, in that same time around the 17th century. It’s called Senjafuda (Thousand Shrine Tags), it’s a piece of tiny paper with a small wood block print. They drew their own symbol, name, crew etc. and they used to carry glue in a small pot and a brush, and when we would go to a temple or shrine once we finished praying we would put their stickers on the ceiling so that our soul will remain in the temple to be protected. That was part of their ritual in the samurai time, but I feel I have that similar kind of ritual when I put my sticker on the street where I have visited and spent some time. Before I left Japan, I was young and ignorant, and I thought it was just normal thing. I couldn’t think that deep. I knew, but I didn’t feel Senjafuda as such a special art form and I wouldn’t search out the origin of RakuGaki. Since then I have spent about 15 years living outside of Japan and working on street art, and I discovered all those beautiful Japanese traditions, but some are disappearing and being forgotten, so now I enjoy talking about it and reflecting it into my art very much." One of the many examples of how Lady Aiko incorporates elements of traditional Japanese art was her mural for her mural for the Japan Society's exhibition "Edo Pop: the Graphic Impact of Japanese Prints" in 2013, which was inspired by Japanese wood block prints (ukiyo-e). A modern stenciled version of Hokusai's TheGreat Wave functions as a backdrop for a mix of cheerful pop art style flowers and butterflies, as well as a woman with a shunga (Japanese erotic art produced from about 1600-1900) inspired tattoo on her back.
Speaking about the wall she painted for Eugene, Oregon's 20 x 21 mural project, Lady Aiko further explains some of her iconography. "She's a Maiko, it’s an apprentice of geisha, and she's a trainer to be a dancer. And I chose this motif because it's very young energy around her and really festive…My wall is really tall and skinny so I had a little time to think about the execution. I chose this way to express day and night, like flip the girl, and it’s like a playing card. I like the butterfly. It’s an image of transformation and I feel like not only women, but for everyone, like we have the moment of transformation and I really like to keep painting the image of a butterfly in different countries."
The playing card motif has become Lady Aiko's literal signature. The mural she completed for Opening Ceremony in Seattle shows it particularly well.
Her style is also inspired by vintage pin-ups, comic books (I'm getting Lichtenstein vibes) and tattoo imagery, which really shine in these gorgeous Coney Art Walls she painted in 2015 and 2017, respectively. Plus, MERMAIDS! I love that she worked in an homage to the famous Coney Island Mermaid Parade.
Lady Aiko generally maintains an upbeat outlook in her work, trying to spread positivity and beauty. "I love to create images related to romantic momentos, lovers and kisses. My subjects are pretty much always about romantic stories, lovers and sexy girls in everyday life. My name, Aiko — which is the most common Japanese girl’s name — means love. Love has been my theme throughout my entire life, even from early childhood…I enjoy making something that gives us a good feeling, and creating something beautiful that I can share with everyone. Something that is full of love."
Occasionally Lady Aiko's representations of love delve into decidedly erotic territory, such as the murals for a 2019 show entitled "Beyond the Streets". Creating a red-light district of sorts, Lady Aiko combined shunga with the seediness of '70s era Times Square. But while the images could be interpreted as degrading depictions of sex workers, they were intended as an unabashed celebration of women's sexuality and pleasure. "People used to draw really sexy stuff in my country, so I'm making this whole section sexual and pornographic. But also it's more about women. You see [in the work] more sexual energy from women than men. My red-light district is more about how women want to have good time. We also want to enjoy some sexuality…Guys can paint sexy ladies that they want to fuck but the female figure is ours; it’s also for us to enjoy. It’s nothing against boys; I’m just celebrating female energy."
The painting on the right is a re-imagined version of another Hokusai work, a shunga print from 1814 entitled The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife.
Between the fairly explicit portrayal of women's sexuality in "Beyond the Streets" and her other equally eye-catching, thoughtful work, Lady Aiko has proven herself a critical player in a new generation of street artists who are changing the way graffiti is perceived in the art world. In the eyes of academics, galleries and museums, for many years street art was snobbishly viewed as nothing more than vandalism (in fact, Aiko was arrested early in her career), but now it's being curated by the likes of gallery owner and art dealer Jeffrey Deitch. Over the past 20 years or so, Deitch and others have set up specific (legal) spaces for street artists to compete for a chance to show their work. One such space is Manhattan's Bowery Wall, which Lady Aiko had the honor of being the first woman to paint. After completing Miami's Wynwood Walls in 2009, Lady Aiko set her sights on the coveted Bowery, but felt she "had to let the boys do it first". Finally in 2012 she was awarded the opportunity. "Wynwood Walls was one of the first big walls that was painted by a woman and that got good attention, and people started to know about me and my serious stencil murals. People started to realize that female artists also can paint a big wall."
Lady Aiko recognized the importance of women contributing to the Bowery Wall, inviting others to participate in the process. "It made me think, it must be my time? For years, that wall had always gone to guys. I waited to paint it for three years. I got the call, and I called my girlfriends as I wanted to make it a 'female only' wall! I called five of my good girlfriends, from the girl whose does my nails to Martha Cooper (the legendary photographer). There were loads of people watching and I think they really appreciated the fact that there were all these girls working away, it bought a new vibe to the mural scene. We did the wall, I felt honored." The feeling of camaraderie with fellow women made a lasting impression on Lady Aiko's process. "I was really tired of having it be dudes vs. girls. I think I got traumatized. Now when I do my own big wall I always call my girlfriends first. They care more about mementos and enjoying the process, instead of it being 'my idea is this' or 'my idea is that.' I enjoy the work and enjoy the time together."
Despite this and the emphasis on femininity in her work, Lady Aiko never saw her own identity as a woman as the main aspect of her art, bristling at being asked to join women-only exhibitions and referred to primarily as a female/woman street artist. This is sadly common among women who work in a male-dominated profession. In 2017 Lady Aiko made it clear she would no longer be entertaining questions about being a woman in street art or participating in women-only exhibitions. From her Instagram: "Hello to people who are trying to reach me but unfortunately I'm not interested in answering your topic #femaleartist and #femalething movement anymore. I have been puking since hundred of people started asking me all of sudden to participate #femaleartexhibition and interview about #femalestreetartist. Yes I was only a girl in the early #streetart #graffiti era and everyone else had dicks, sure I love #pussypower because I own it, but Im not pushing and selling myself professionally as #womanartist. I am individual #artist since I was little child, when dick or vagina didn't matter. Personally I had depressing childhood in Tokyo that all girls in my class ignored me for semester, just because I was cute eccentric, good at playing ball games with boys, riding cool black bike not the pinky one, chilling with live crocodile not Barbie doll, stupid reasons. Group of girls were scary trauma to me. Making art was and still is great escape from such everyday's dark clouds. I deeply support women who are having very difficult situation in our society, I've seen they are really fucked up but I am not fighting against opposite sex. I feel everyone else like you should stop talk about gender issue like cool fashion. There must be more unique theme to research and present. Hope you like my answer, peace out" My takeaway from this statement is that while Lady Aiko broke significant gender barriers in street art, she doesn't want being a woman to define her work; her point was about the art world needing to focus on content and style more than identity politics.
In any case, I really like Lady Aiko's playful yet provocative aesthetic. There are so many different elements involved and many of them speak to me, especially the references to traditional Japanese art, the curvy retro pin-up girls, and the old-school tattoo illustrations. You wouldn't think that images of a geisha and a 1950s American tattoo-inspired rose would mesh well, but Lady Aiko's unique vision harmoniously brings these disparate forms together. I also admire the painstaking labor behind the stencils and her fearlessness at tackling the equally arduous process of getting them onto the walls.
The design of the compact was based on a "quaint Victorian rose cameo hand mirror" according to one ad. This one is reproduced in Roselyn Gerson's book Vintage and Vogue Ladies' Compacts (2nd edition).
As the Trio-ette was conceived and launched during WWII, it was made of plastic, specifically tenite, instead of metal. Tenite apparently is the trade name for a cellulosic plastic created by Eastman Chemicals in 1929. (I wish I knew the difference between tenite, bakelite, and celluloid. Alas, I have no clue.) The Trio-ette was also refillable. This snippet from Drug and Cosmetic Industry shows the refill kit, but the really interesting thing about this blurb is that the journal was not falling for the Trio-ette's hype, claiming it was nothing more than a "gadget" and citing the more "streamlined" designs from established big-name brands. It's true: companies had been making triple compacts for a good 20 years by that point.
Whether it was a novelty or a truly handy compact to carry, the Trio-ette seemed popular, or at least, it was readily available across the entire country in department stores as well as drugstores. Plate, though not a businessman by trade, understood the importance of advertising. In late 1945 he hired NY-based firm Norman D. Waters and Associates to oversee a national campaign they would launch early the following year. The Trio-ette allegedly reduced "bag fumbling" and "makeup fatigue".
As with lipstick mirrors, it was considered a social faux pas to be digging through one's purse to look for your makeup, mostly because it was a potential inconvenience for men. Ladies, with the Trio-ette he won't mind waiting for you to touch up since it won't take long at all – all your makeup is in one place so you won't waste his time searching for it. *eyeroll* These ads certainly paint a picture of gender norms, don't they?
The Trio-ette came in a variety of colors as well as black ones with a pink rose or a rhinestone border. According to collector's guides, the most valuable colors are blue, pink and green. Personally, while I love all the shades, my most-wanted would be the rhinestone version followed by the green and mock tortoiseshell.
The Trio-ette was quite short-lived. I'm not sure why exactly; it could be that Plate had run into a trademark issue with Curly Lox, or maybe after the war a return to metal compacts was all the rage and plastic fell out of favor. Or it could also be that a copycat was released around the same time. In the UK, a company named Jason released a nearly identical compact in late 1947. The only difference I can see besides the name is that the front of the compact is plain instead of bearing a sculpted rose.
Perhaps another reason for the Trio-ette's brevity was simply that Plate couldn't compete with the more well-known brands, who in addition to name recognition, also had a far bigger advantage in terms of marketing savvy. Coty's Parisienne, for example, was somewhat misleadingly advertised as a "4-in-1" even though it actually only contained two products – the mirror and puff were considered the 3rd and 4th items. While some ads describe the design as a miniature hand mirror just like the Trio-ette, some others claim the Parisienne to be a "replica of a Cartier-designed original," which sounds way fancier than a Victorian hand mirror. Maybe if Plate had hired an agency with sneakier copy writers to advertise the compact differently, it might have had some longevity. As I noted earlier, he was educated as a mechanical engineer and not a businessman, so navigating the world of ad agencies and cosmetics marketing was a tricky prospect.
Unfortunately Plate was no longer running a legitimate business at that point. According to a 1951 FTC ruling, essentially the House of Plate was mailing people products they did not order and then demanding payment. It's a common scam that persists today in the form of "free trials" of various products. (A few years ago my own mother was the victim of one of these schemes in the form of a trying out a "free" face cream she was sent.) In 1951 the company was officially dissolved. Plate passed away on December 10, 1966 in Athens, Greece.
Now let's investigate Benefit's Glamourette. First, a little background. Founded as a San Francisco boutique called The Face Place by twin sisters Jane and Jean Ford in 1976, the company was renamed to Benefit in 1990 and launched at Henri Bendel in 1991. The cheeky names and retro vibe quickly made their products best-sellers across the country. In 1997 Benefit made its international debut and was acquired by LMVH in 1999. Using vintage mannequins as their mascots and creating packaging inspired by everything from '20s face powders to '70s lip glosses, Benefit was widely recognized as a fun brand that lightheartedly saluted beauty products of yesteryear.
The company had firmly established its playful kitschy take on cosmetics by the early 2000s, but why they decided to draw on the Trio-ette specifically is unclear. None of their other products seemed to be literal remakes of a particular piece of makeup from earlier times. As with the Trio-ette, I wish I could hunt down the patent drawings for their version of the compact. I also wish I could find anyone who worked for Benefit during that time and see if they have any inside information as to what inspired the company to update the Trio-ette. We know that the Ford sisters were vintage collectors, so maybe one of them came across a Trio-ette and thought it was the perfect compact to use in their line, but why?
Let's compare the Glamourette with the Trio-ette. I would have done a smackdown because they are nearly identical but pitting a spry 20-year-old against a 70+ relic didn't seem like a fair fight. Obviously the formulas for the makeup itself were updated with newer ingredients.
The lace pattern on the inside of the lid is a nice nod to the pink floral pattern that appears on the insert included with the Trio-ette.
Instead of a rose on the lid Benefit used an abstract squiggle design. Also, I don't think the Glamourette was offered in other colors; to my knowledge, only black plastic was available.
The lipstick mechanism appears to be the same between the two compacts, but Divine's rosy brown hue is unmistakably '90s/early 2000s. Instead of the company's name on the cap there's a sticker saying "lipstick". I would have strongly preferred Benefit's name rather than a totally unnecessary sticker. I know people are dumb but it's pretty obvious it's lipstick…no need for a sticker.
Interestingly, the powder and blush are reversed from the Trio-ette, i.e. the blush is on the inner part of the compact and the powder is on the outer side. You could also swap out the powder for Fancy Lady cream highlighter.
The shade range for the face products had not improved since the 1940s. In fact, I suspect the Glamourette's was even worse. I'm not 100% sure, but it's my understanding from reviews that Fancy Lady didn't come in any other shades besides a pale ivory/champagne. And while I can't make out this tiny photo, it looks like Fascinating Finish powder, appallingly, also only came in one very light shade.* I know it was 2002, but I was pretty into makeup by then and I distinctly remember just about every line having at least 3 options for face powders and tinted moisturizers by then: light, medium and dark. It's absolutely inexcusable that Benefit didn't offer the bare minimum for face powder shades in the Glamourette compact.
Getting back to comparing the two, unlike the Trio-ette, the Glamourette came with a wristlet that could be used as a storage pouch. It's a very sheer piece of organza that I don't think would have been too helpful in terms of preventing wear and tear, but interesting to note.
Obviously the advertising for the Glamourette was similar to its 1940s counterpart. Both touted ease of use, refillable products and chic, vintage-inspired packaging. Bag fumbling was still presented as a tedious time waster for the new millennium's busy modern woman. Perhaps as a sort of snooty counterpoint to the golden age of trashy reality TV and super glossy, frosty makeup finishes that appealed more to teens than adults, the Glamourette was also described as "discreet" and something a "real lady" would carry, whatever that means.
The Glamourette was generally well-received. There are a few reviews on Makeupalley gushing over its cuteness and convenience while acknowledging it was a gimmick. One reviewer mentioned she would pass it on to her 11 year-old daughter in a few years, so Benefit helped rekindle the notion of makeup as a keepsake. While most MUA'ers felt the amount of product was a bit stingy for the price point, overall they loved the style and found the compact practical for a night out. Several reviews also pointed out the similarity to the black plastic packaging of Anna Sui's line.
Speaking of product amounts, I don't have the exact numbers for the Trio-ette, but if they were the same as the Glamourette, the latter was actually a better deal. The Trio-ette retailed for $5.50 in 1946, and according to an inflation calculator it would have cost about $51 in 2002 when the Glamourette was being sold. Glamourette's retail was $38 ($55 CAD and £32.50 in the UK). I also find it amusing that the reviews commented on how streamlined and tiny the compact was when Glamourette is actually a smidge larger than the Trio-ette, which was described as "bulky" in the Drug and Cosmetic Industry article. As we know, makeup packaging gradually got bigger over the years, so the Glamourette demonstrates how both design and consumer expectations changed.
Despite the amount of press and good reviews, the Glamourette was a limited edition item that did not return to the market after its brief two-year stint. Even against the backdrop of '90s/early aughts' nostalgia for mid-century styles (see also Too-Faced's Quickie Chronicles) maybe the Glamourette was too retro for most customers. I know when I laid eyes on it I thought it was cute but overly vintage-looking for my taste. It could also have been the type of products included. While there absolutely was and will always be a demand among those sticking to simple polished looks and makeup classics in neutral tones, in the early 2000s traditional lipstick, face powder and blush weren't the most wanted product categories among the younger crowd. Says one Makeupalley reviewer, "It has powder and blush which I never use to touch-up, so I'd never carry this with me. And it also has lipstick, and I'm not a fan of lipstick. If they replaced it with concealer, bronzer, and lipgloss, I'd sell my soul for it!!" Perhaps a tiny sifter of body glitter may also have been more palatable for a Y2k audience. Finally, the lack of shades for anyone whose skin was deeper than mayonnaise obviously eliminated a good portion of the market.
Even though there's a 55 year age gap between the Trio-ette and the Glamourette, their advertising and reception were remarkably similar. So much had changed between 1947 and 2002, yet the design appealed to totally different audiences. As Drug and Cosmetic Industry noted with the Trio-ette, people love a novelty product even if the underlying concept – in this instance, having three makeup products in one attention-getting case – has been done before. It got me thinking about how a third iteration of the compact would be marketed and received today. The small sizes and refills would be attractive to today's makeup consumers, but the compact would have to be made out of sustainable packaging; plastic won't play well. Maybe the products could be even smaller to make space for brushes rather than puffs. There would probably have to be some kind of emphasis on "wellness" and "self-care" or at the very least, "clean" (sigh), vegan and ethically-sourced ingredients. Most importantly, the shades would need to accommodate all skintones. One parting thought: I'd also be curious to see what would happen if a company released it not today but 55 years after the Glamourette. I wonder how makeup customers in 2057 would react.
What do you think of the designs of these compacts? Do you have a preference for one or the other? And do you like having your makeup all in one place? I could see using something like this for touch-ups, but it would still fall short. Until a product is developed that combines concealer, powder, blotting sheets and lip color all in one, I'm destined to dig around in my bag.
*There was an article in Global Cosmetic Industry from 2002 that lists the following colors for Glamourette blush and lipstick refills. It doesn't make any mention of multiple shades being available for the highlighter and powder. "Rouges in Divine, Fickle and Coy, Fascinating Finish Translucent Powder and Fancy Lady Highlighting Creme are priced at $11.00 each. The line offers Lip shades priced at $9.00 each in Keen (champagne pearl), Vain (vibrant red), Divine (rich plum), Swell (dusty rose), Prim (pink-cocoa pearl), and Coy (mocha apricot) varieties." I cannot for the life of me locate the article now but I know it existed!
I'm quite far behind on artist collaborations, so I'm doing some more catching up. Today we have British artist Morag Myerscough for Bobbi Brown, whose collection was released in the spring of 2020. It was a small collection consisting of an eyeshadow palette, highlighter and two lipsticks. I purchased one of the lipsticks and the two other items…and of course I can't seem to find the lipstick. (I'm really hoping to take a full week off of work this summer to properly re-organize the Museum's collection, as things keep going missing or take literally hours to locate. Sigh.)
Born and raised in London, Myerscough came from a family of artists. Her father was a highly sought-after session musician in the 1960s and '70s, while her mother was a textile artist. Myerscough was settled on an artistic career even before she was out of elementary school. After graduating from St. Martin's where she studied graphic design, Myerscough attended the Royal College of Art. In 1993 she established Studio Myerscough, and in 2010 Supergrouplondon, a collaborative studio with fellow artist and partner Luke Morgan, was born. You can read more about her professional background at Eye Magazine.
Myerscough's vibrant color combinations are influenced by her mother as well as several artists, including Josef Albers and '80s collective Memphis (remember them from my Hermès post?) She explains, "[My style of] colour could be from my mother, I think my colour sense comes from being very young and understanding the difference between a dye made from a natural source and one from an artificial source. When I make my big pieces of work I much prefer to paint them as I can get pure pigments and as they are used in spaces it is important how colour responds to light. There is nothing better than to see an amazing colour in the right environment, it can change your whole mood. I like to be brave with colour, at college I was introduced to Albers, and I was very interested in his theories on how colours respond to each other." She adds, "I really hate when people say that colour is exclusive to children, what sad people they must be. Adults need colour in their lives as much or maybe more than children. Colour is so abundant in nature and we need it more in our built environment." Hear hear!
In 2017 Myerscough designed the Artskickers stage for a beloved community hub in Dalton Garden. Over 200 events are held here each year.
Her color choices combined with the tidy, modern geometric patterns reflect both her graphic design background as well as the influence of artists such as Bridget Riley and Dan Flavin. Here are a couple examples so you can see the resemblance.
You know I adore big bold swathes of color, but it's Myerscough's dedication to community engagement and overall approach to art that speak to me the most. Adopting a Chinese proverb as her mantra, "make happy those who are near and those who are far will come," Myerscough aims to instill a sense of belonging among the people using the space she's been commissioned to reimagine. She believes art is a unifying concept that can bring people together and connect them to certain places. A beautiful example is the Burntwood School, where Myerscough designed many of the interior and exterior wall patterns. "I put a narrative in the building, we make places where people feel they belong. I like working collaboratively with architects…we have made some great steps in how schools are used and how the students connect with their schools. The team needs to want the same result and for the project to be successful this involves everybody. The students' grades have increased hugely, I believe this is because they have a building that works for them, that they can be proud of, with teachers that care about them and when you put all the parts together it produces success," she says. I wonder if my anxiety would have been mitigated if I had attended a school with this sort of art everywhere. Probably not, but it's at least nice to look at.
I also love the Vinyl Lounge, a mixed-used space that used to be an office owned by British music company EMI in the '70s. Myerscough carefully researched the history of the buildings to design something that paid homage to their past while accommodating modern needs. The furniture and other decor consisted of vintage eBay buys or made by Luke Morgan with reclaimed materials. The "lounge" itself served as a gathering place. In this way the space incorporates local heritage and engages the community. "I do focus on belonging. I want to find out from people what it means to them. Because it may mean different things to different ages, like for the older ones it might be family, while with young ones it might be friends. I also try to see what part of it makes you feel belonged; is it just your culture or is it about talking with each other? It does not matter that you do not come from the same place but can still belong together."
But I do have some mixed feelings towards other projects. While I admire Myerscough's approach and would be honored to be able to visit one of her works in person, at the same time I'd most likely want to punch it. Perhaps I'm too cynical not about public art in general, but Myerscough's optimistic outlook more specifically. It's a bit too cheerful and positive for my grumpy, pessimistic self, or at least, the text is. If I was confronted by Love At First Sight, for example, I'd roll my eyes and walk right on by. Ditto for the billboards painted in honor of the frontline NHS workers during the early part of the pandemic. It's a really nice thought, but calling them "heroes" is problematic, and frankly a mural comes off as much as an empty gesture as clapping did. Overall, I think her installations work better with no words, because there's no direction then and people can take whatever they want from it. Words create additional meaning and context, so without them there's more freedom of interpretation. However, I don't think Myerscough would be offended if she read this because at least I have some sort of reaction. We share the same belief that art should have some kind of impact on the viewer, whether it's bad or good. She says, "The main aim is that people aren’t indifferent to it. I want people to react. I totally understand some people might hate my work and I would rather have that than just dismiss it with indifference. I want people to have conversations; to experience something they didn’t expect. That’s why I love making work in public spaces, where people might stumble across a piece of work and have it change their thoughts for the day – ideally for the better." I agree that part of art's purpose is making one feel something and not nothing.
Anyway, I wholeheartedly applaud and respect the incredible work she's done for children's hospitals, but I fundamentally disagree with the notion of art in hospitals. The rooms at the Sheffield's Children's Hospital are very welcoming, and at the Royal London Children's Hospital, she used the children's own drawings part of the decor. "In hospitals I really do want to brighten people’s days, to raise their moods, to make them feel positive and hopeful. I want to make spaces that feel like home, which people enjoy being in. And ultimately to help people feel better…when I was commissioned by Vital Arts to design the five dining rooms at the Royal London Children’s hospital, I proposed to work with [poet Lemn Sissay] on the project. He did poetry workshops with the young patients and I ran visual workshops with the words. We then made murals by combining the words with the visuals, so the dining rooms belonged to the young patients – it was their ideas on the walls. I also displayed all the young patients’ original drawings in frames on the walls, so they and their parents could see it and it was clear the patients were at the centre of the artwork. It’s important that young patients and their families feel comfortable in these environments, because often they stay for long periods of time or return regularly as a child grows."
These are wonderful, innovative ideas and Myerscough's style is absolutely perfect for this type of project, but as someone who has spent far too much time in hospitals on account of ailing parents, I can tell you that absolutely zero amount or style of art is going to combat the dread and fear. Hospitals are for the very ill and dying, and despite some spotty evidence of the benefit of art in hospitals, I still think there's no artist in the world whose work can even come close to offsetting that type of negative energy. As both a patient and a visitor I'd honestly prefer it if art wasn't in hospitals and have them remain drab and depressing – it's far more appropriate for the space. Again, this is all just a matter of opinion. (And I certainly support art therapy where the patient creates art themselves.)
Getting back to the Bobbi Brown collab, I'm not sure how or why it came about. Nor do I know why she designed the patterns she did for the collection, or if she had an input on the makeup shades. I did reach out for an interview with the artist but didn't hear back. I will say I think her work translated well to the packaging, which can be tricky for artists who typically work on large-scale designs. But I'd love to hear Myerscough's thoughts on makeup colors, how makeup can help bring people together and why she took on the collaboration. She works primarily on big environmental graphics for community spaces and doesn't have a lot of commercial collabs – the only other thing with her work that you'd find in a store was a collection for Method cleaning products, and even that was part of the larger Sheffield hospital project – so I'm curious to know what attracted her to designing the packaging for a makeup collection. It's a bit inconsistent with Myerscough's usual commissions. Perhaps it's precisely how different it is that piqued her interest. In any case, the Bobbi Brown collection is not even mentioned on her website.
Thoughts on Myerscough's work? What does the makeup community mean to you? Do you feel as though you're part of it?
In an effort to condense a few posts I'm doing some quick reviews of recent additions to the Museum's library. Hopefully they'll be of use…I mean, they can't be any worse than my usual long-form reviews, right?
Up first is historian Cheryl Woodruff-Brooks's biography of Sara Spencer Washington, who established the Apex News and Hair Company in 1919. Over the years the company expanded to include 11 Apex Beauty Colleges in the U.S. (including one right here in Baltimore – more on that later!) and abroad, Apex Laboratories to manufacture hair care, cosmetics and even household goods, and Apex News, which produced publications for her estheticians and sales agents. The Apex empire, as it came to be known, employed roughly 45,000 sales agents at its peak. Madame Washington wasn’t just a savvy entrepreneur; she regularly gave back to the Black community by offering scholarships to Apex schools, establishing a golf course that welcomed people of all races and economic status, and even founded a nursing home, Apex Rest. Golden Beauty Boss: The Story of Madame Sara Spencer-Washington and the Apex Empire is relatively short but incredibly informative. I can only imagine how many hours the author spent digging through various archives.
Quality research and an intriguing story about one of the most successful Black entrepreneurs in history is a must-have for well, anyone! You can buy it here.
Next we have Howard Melton's and Michael Mont's American Compacts of the Art Deco Era: The Art of Elgin American, J.M. Fisher, and Others. This isn't a collector's guide; it's more along the lines of Jean-Marie Martin Hattemberg's tomes on powder boxes and lipsticks in that there are many images of beautiful objects to drool over with some wonderful history along the way. It also includes a good amount of ads, which are very helpful in identifying compacts – of course, you can also see some Elgin compact catalogs over at the Elgin History Museum archives.
What I love about American Compacts is that it focuses on the compacts of a particular era and country so it's not overwhelming, yet still provides useful information throughout. The story of Elgin's Bird in Hand compact is a particularly great highlight. Overall, American Compacts is a necessity for the vintage makeup collector or anyone with an interest in Art Deco design. As for purchasing, you remember my interview with Andra of Lady-A Antiques, right? Well, she's offering this book at a reduced price at her store, so be sure to buy it there!
Moving along, I read Color Stories: Behind the Scenes of America's Billion Dollar Beauty Industry by journalist Mary Lisa Gavenas. It's a bit dated at this point since it was published in 2002, but still a good read as it provides a very fascinating behind-the-scenes, soup-to-nuts description of how makeup color stories were selected and marketed each season during the 1990s and early 2000s – essentially a full, unbiased story of the process.
It's very useful for anyone looking for cosmetic marketing history as well as '90s makeup history (ahem), but I think it would also be interesting for fashion or business historians more generally. I would dearly love to see an update for the age of social media, Millennials/Gen Z'ers and the increased demand for diversity and inclusion among beauty consumers. So much has changed in 20 years!
Next up is another drool-worthy book I found on ebay. It's in Japanese so I can't actually read any of the text, but the photos are more than worth it. You'll find lots of vintage Shiseido and other Japanese brands along with a sprinkling of Western lines such as L.T. Piver packaged for the Japanese market. While powder boxes, skincare and perfume comprise most of the objects, there's also personal hygiene products like deodorant and tooth powder.
If you love vintage powder boxes, vintage design and typography, or Japanese culture in general, this belongs on your book shelf. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for an English version so I can read the history behind some of the brands that are covered.
I wish I could compare the information offered in both books, but at the very least I can tell that Lucky Lips has some tips on lipstick application and 20th century lipstick history organized by decade. Overall, it's good to have on hand and a quality addition to the vintage makeup collector's library, especially if you can read German. (I've said this before, but if I could have any superpower it would be fluency in all languages within a matter of minutes.) If you had to choose between this one and Lips of Luxury, however, I'd go with the latter as it's a bit more extensive.
Are you interested in any of these? What books, beauty-related or otherwise, have you finished recently?
So who is Duro Olowu? Born in Lagos to a Jamaican mother and Nigerian father who had met and lived in England previously, Olowu was used to spending the summers there to see his mother's family and visiting Geneva for his father's business trips. Olowu attended school in England as a teenager and earned a law degree from the University of Kent at Canterbury before making the switch to fashion design. With this background, it's no wonder a he arrived at his trademark cosmopolitan aesthetic. The designer explains: "I would spend my time browsing in the Kings Road, Kensington Market and Hyper Hyper and going to clubs like the Wag, the Mud Club and warehouse parties. I managed to do very creative things in an important period of style and music in London, and I wanted to experience all the aspects of that time. From New Romantics to Leigh Bowery, punk and reggae, all mixed in. I read up on fashion from Vionnet and Saint Laurent to Fiorucci and knew all about that…I was particularly inspired by certain designers when I was young. Yves Saint Laurent, Stephen Burrows, Azzedine Alaïa, Madame Grès, and Walter Albini and Issey Miyake. My mother wore Rive Gauche when I was growing up, often mixing it with pieces of traditional Nigerian clothing and other pieces picked up on holidays abroad. I felt that these designers bought so many very different elements of culture and style into the realm of their work. The beauty of women was very inspiring to me, as were my parents, who loved clothes."
In 2004 Olowu launched his own label with a single dress that mixed pieces of vintage couture fabrics and new ones with his own prints on a loose-fitting, Empire-waisted silhouette. The "Duro dress," as it came to be known, was an instant hit among both fashionistas and critics and put Olowu on the international fashion map. Soon the designer was dressing the likes of powerful women such as Michelle Obama. "I'm just amazed by how women can do so much regardless of natural or imposed obstacles, and I feel that it's my duty to make sure they look good and feel comfortable doing it…whether I'm initially inspired by Eileen Gray, Miriam Makeba, Pauline Black, or Amrita Sher-Gil, I always end up designing for women of all ages and ethnicities, women whose way of life and work I respect. Then I hope that the clothes I've come to, with them as inspiration, would be of interest to them…I want to make women feel confident in an effortless way," he says.
Says fashion writer Chioma Nnadi, Olowu's art history knowledge is "astonishing", and it informs his designs along with his personal background. "My prints are inspired by my Nigerian, Jamaican, and British backgrounds, as well as my love of art. Over the years, I have developed a curatorial and enthusiastic knowledge of historic and contemporary fabrics and textiles from all over the world. The mixing and draping of printed fabrics and textiles is something I have been exposed to all my life in the places I have lived or on my travels. It has been a signature of my womenswear collections from the very beginning and remains an integral part of my work. Fabrics always tell a story, and, when mixed well, exude the kind of joie de vivre and allure I am constantly inspired by…The color palettes of my prints are often by inspired art and artists, including Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, Henri Matisse, Alma Thomas, Robert Rauschenberg, Alice Neel, Chris Ofili, Édouard Vuillard, El Anatsui, Lee Krasner and Toyin Ojih Odutola." I can absolutely see these influences in his color schemes, but what's even more impressive is how Olowu imbues his collections with the spirits of his current muses without directly referencing them and creates a whole new aesthetic in the process. For example, for his spring 2020 collection he was inspired by photographer Beth Lesser's images of Jamaican dancehalls in the '80s as well as sketches by Picasso's lover Francoise Gilot. As Nnadi points out, the former can be seen in the wide leg pants and some of the dresses' ruffled hems, while Gilot's are embodied by the drapey, flowing silhouettes and softer floral prints. I'm blown away by how Olowu combines and reinterprets the vibes of these two totally different bodies of work while also adding his own style to the mix.
While his clothing is wonderful, it's Olowu's curatorial experience I find most extraordinary. In 2008 Olowu married Thelma Golden, Director and Chief Curator at the Studio Museum in Harlem, which further intensified his appreciation of art across all mediums. He curated his first exhibition in 2012 at New York's Salon 94 Freemans, followed by two more in 2014 and 2016. All were so well-received by the public and critics alike that the exhibition catalogs had to be reprinted after repeatedly selling out. Olowu's most recent exhibition, Seeing Chicago, at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago (MCA) is one of the most innovative and unique curatorial endeavors I have ever laid eyes on. Comprised of 367 (!) works from all different eras ranging from painting and photography to crafts and books, the pieces are arranged salon-style to enhance the dialogue between them. Olowu's love for Chicago grew out of his long-term partnership with the boutique Ikram. "I first came here because I've been working with Ikram, a fantastic store, for about 16 years…I was just amazed at the unique nature of the Chicago mindset. They're not followers; they do their own thing, and they're very proud of what is within their city, without showing off. And in that way I felt that sometimes you overlook actually what is there and how amazing it is." From there he gathered objects he felt best represented the diversity and character of the city. "I wanted to show old school, curious collecting from the '60s, '70s, and '80s, along with community and philanthropic collecting, in a forward-thinking way," Olowu tells CR Fashion Book. "It was intuitive how it came together—the variety of having Matisse, Louise Bourgeois, and Glenn Ligon in the same space with Rashid Johnson, Martin Puryear, and Lorna Simpson. I did not purposefully seek any of the art—the artwork itself called me." I love the idea of art or objects "calling" – it happens to me when organizing the Museum's exhibitions, although sometimes I'm driven by certain words or phrases that just keep sticking in my head.
Instead of arranging artwork into neat categories, Olowu takes an unexpected and refreshing approach that still makes sense thematically. Explains MCA (soon to be Guggenheim) curator Naomi Beckwith, "I don't think we realize that when we go to museums, oftentimes the work that we see in one specific gallery or in one show is usually like for like. That is to say that all the works in African sculpture are in the African galleries. All the works by French painters of the late 19th century are in another gallery by themselves. All the pottery from Asia is either in the Asian gallery or in the decorative arts gallery. We began to separate things out in ways that feel logical, but what it doesn't often allow is for things across cultures to speak to each other, or things across time periods to live with each other. Duro kind of ignored those basic art historical claims and just asked us to realize the affinities that art may have, across the country, across the world, across time."
The colors of the walls and pedestals reflect the color palette used by Amanda Williams in her iconic Color(ed) Theory series, in which she painted structures slated for demolition in Chicago's Englewood neighborhood and named each to represent an aspect of Black consumer culture. By using these colors for the exhibition decor, Olowu connects the objects both to each other and to Chicago's history.
"Both as a fashion designer and as a curator, [Duro is] interested in bringing cultures and cultural objects together in an exchange and in a conversation that allows things to speak to each other in an equal plain, without hierarchy, without a sense that one thing is superior to another, or better than another, or that one culture, one geography, one place or one history should supersede another," continues Beckwith. "And really the question for his practice is, how do we allow all this to live together, in a kind of egalitarian beauty? And you'll see that happening in the exhibition." This is a far less elitist approach to curation that we typically don't see in major art museums. Underscoring this more democratic methodology was the display of outsider art alongside canonical names like Kerry James Marshall and Jean Arp. "He’s not making big distinctions between self-taught and academically trained artists. He’s looking at furniture as much as sculpture, at craft as much as painting. We're at a moment in art history when we're seeing deep dissatisfaction with the standard narratives," notes Beckwith.
The last room presents a group of mannequins observing the art, meant as stand-ins of fellow museum visitors. While they're dressed in Olowu's designs, they're intended to emphasize his community-minded approach towards art and curation. "They are looking at the art, and at you…there is a relationship between the eye and the heart, outside of genres and contexts. One of the joys of art is that it can bring people together—through diversity and unification, all divisions are gone," he says.
In short, Duro Olowu was meant to be a curator, more so than a fashion designer, and I hope he pursues curation full-time. I love his clothes, but I find his exhibitions even more inspiring. My spirits are also buoyed up by the fact that his shows have been generally well-received without him having any formal curatorial training. I would dearly love to have him curate an exhibition for the Museum, although since he doesn't consider fashion to be art, he probably wouldn't consider makeup worthy of curation either. Plus, his style may be very difficult to translate to cosmetics. As Jessica Baran points out in Art Forum, Olowu's aesthetic can veer into commercial territory. "[At] its worst the display method mirrored the style of luxe domestic decor and retail store design (in fact, Olowu’s first curatorial endeavors were seen as extensions of his London boutique, which is organized similarly). Full of surface seductions 'Duro Olowu: Seeing Chicago' masked with its immersive pleasure its myriad contradictions, many of which are mirrored by fashion itself: a global industry blinkered by its own excesses, situated somewhere between haute merch and popular necessity, expressive art and practical consumability." You know I despise any museums in which makeup is presented as something to buy rather than appreciate – it's something I've been even more mindful of since I interviewed an exhibition designer so many years ago – but I think I could channel Olowu's vision and put together a broadly focused show in his style that celebrates the diversity of makeup and its history without it seeming like retail. The ideas are flying fast and furious now so I better go so I can jot them down. 😉
While hunting for vintage Christmas makeup a few months ago I stumbled across a brand from the 1960s called Holiday Magic. This won't be a complete history either of the brand or the man who founded it, but it's one of the most compelling (for all the wrong reasons). Buckle up because you're in for a truly wild ride!
In 1964, a California salesman by the name of William Penn Patrick (b. March 31, 1930; d. June 9, 1973) noticed a neighbor having a garage sale of organic fruit-based cosmetics called Zolene. Sensing a new business opportunity, Patrick bought the entire stock for $16,250 (or about $137,000 today). Re-branded as Holiday Magic, Patrick proceeded to start selling them as a multi-level marketing business (MLM). Now, MLMs for cosmetics and other goods had been around for many years prior to Holiday Magic, such as Avon, Mary Kay, Watkins, Fuller Brush, etc. While their ethics are murky – on the one hand it gave people jobs and products that they otherwise wouldn't have access to, on the other they require fairly unsavory tactics – they are not technically against the law. But Holiday Magic wasn't just your average MLM: it was possibly the biggest pyramid scheme prior to Bernie Madoff.
Within a year of its launch, Holiday Magic had made Patrick a millionaire, and by 1967, the company was allegedly earning $6 million per month. The makeup products were quite average – nothing appears to be innovative about them. There was the standard eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, brow pencil, lipstick and blush. I would have had my own photos but I have no idea what happened to the objects I purchased from eBay, which sadly has become the norm these days. (It looks like tracking information was prepared but the package never was actually mailed. I've contacted the seller numerous times and have yet to receive a reply, let alone a refund. I guess William Penn Patrick is still working through others to scam customers from beyond the grave.)
While the makeup itself wasn't all that groundbreaking, the fruit-based skincare was fairly ahead of its time. The two women who founded Zolene, Helene Fly and Zoe Swanagon (hence the company's moniker, a combo of their first names), were committed to using fresh ingredients without preservatives, and did a lot of research on skincare recipes that had been circulating quite literally for centuries. They were even writing a cosmetics history book!
A lot of their products remind me of LUSH or 100% Pure's offerings. And I really wish I could find them, I love the Mid-Century Modern star packaging. Anyway, Zolene continued to supply Holiday Magic with its concoctions until 1967 when the founders became aware of Holiday Magic's business practices. But the company's lack of innovative makeup did not deter it from making a fortune for Patrick. In pyramid schemes, profit is not made by selling products but rather recruiting more salespeople – the products themselves have nothing to do with how the money is made, so it doesn't matter if they're any good. According to The Snapping Point, a website about business scams, the four characteristics that separate pyramid schemes from MLMs are:
the only way for consultants to make a profit is to recruit other consultants.
consultants are required to ‘inventory load’, or constantly inventory to profit.
consultants are operating in a ‘saturated market’, or a market where there are more sellers than buyers.
consultants are required to sell products for a fixed price (‘price-fixing’).
This book explains it in more detail. Basically, the only way for sales reps to make money was not by selling products but through essentially "buying" more sales people, convincing them to make an "investment" in the company. Unlike regular MLMs, where by the majority of product purchased by sales reps is actually sold to customers, in pyramid schemes most of the product does not reach them. In Holiday Magic's case, in 1967 it was estimated that 55% of their product was not distributed to customers, with sales reps having entire garages full of makeup. In 1973, an FTC attorney stated that he could find no evidence of products being sold directly to customers, only to "master" and "general" distributors, while the former president of Holiday Magic, Benjamin Gay, testified that less than 10% of products sold to distributors ever reached customers. "There could be sawdust in those jars. The cosmetics were there as a front," he said. The way in which Holiday Magic's hierarchy was arranged, Holiday "girls" could invest $18.91, "organizers" $109.71 to $501, "master" distributors $4,500 (plus a $250 training fee that was never mentioned until the investor signed the contract), and "general" distributors $8,750, plus training fees.
The exceedingly punchable face of William Penn Patrick.
Patrick also dabbled in politics, running against Ronald Reagan in California's 1966 gubernatorial race as an "ultra-conservative Republican" with the slogan "Stop the Commies at Cal". Gee, color me shocked that a money-hungry narcissist was the complete opposite of liberal. His political views are not surprising; many rich white mediocre men truly believe the conservative myth that success is due to hard work (bootstraps!) and brilliance, rather than their own privilege, dumb luck or directly screwing over other people. Indeed, as one former Holiday Magic employee reminisced in 2016, "The whole organization (or lack of) was absolutely bizzare [sic], run by a bunch of frat boys with not a business degree among them. But they had a Phd in pyramid schemes." A couple of other tidbits:
In 1967, as president of the "Victory in Vietnam Committee" he attempted to run a recall campaign against an Idaho Democratic Senator, because you know when Democrats win an election it's because they stole the race (insert eyeroll here). When the AFL-CIO organized a boycott of Holiday Magic, Patrick promptly sued them.
His wife, Marie, was going to be a doctor but abandoned her plans shortly after marrying him to work as a teacher, largely to support them both after Patrick's string of failed businesses. Once Holiday Magic achieved success, she began attending meetings with Patrick because "otherwise, I'd never see him".
On September 24, 1972, one of Patrick's vintage planes, an F86 Sabre piloted by the general manager of Spectrum Air (another company owned by Patrick) crashed into an ice cream parlor shortly after takeoff. The pilot escaped with a few broken bones and scratches, while 22 on the ground died, including 10 children. Patrick wasn't directly responsible, but the fact that he allowed it to be flown speaks volumes about his complete disregard for others.
On June 9, 1973, Patrick died in a crash while performing stunts on another one of his vintage jets, a WWII plane called a P51 Mustang that, again, any regular citizen should not have had a license to own, let alone fly. He also managed to kill a colleague who was in the plane with him, a 30 year-old director of Holiday Magic in Finland named Christian George Hagert. SMDH.
A few months after his death and a spate of lawsuits in multiple states, as well as a $5 million suit from Avon, Holiday Magic's new president, along with Patrick's widow, announced that the line would be sold "along conventional marketing lines" and get rid of the pyramid aspect of their sales. They also promised a "fair" method of reimbursing roughly 3,000 of the Holiday Magic distributors in California who had been swindled. The SEC's ruling earlier that year claimed that 80,000 individuals had been bilked out of $250 million, so it's not clear what happened to the other 77,000 people who were ripped off. In May 1974 there was a class action settlement of over 31,000 members that established a trust fund of approximately $2.6 million, but that's pennies compared to the actual amount investors lost. Even in 1980 people were still writing to their local paper about the various lawsuits that had been filed and whether they'd get their money back.
But the big issue I wanted to highlight in this sordid tale is the fact that Holiday Magic seemed to have actively sought out Black communities in the U.S. to recruit distributors. While some other MLMs such as Avon, Fuller and Watkins targeted Black sales reps and customers, in their cases it seemed to be more a matter of expanding their market reach and at least supplying steady jobs rather than overtly preying on marginalized people. (Stay tuned for more about Black people's roles in various MLM cosmetic companies.)
I really wish I could find some numbers to further support my theory, but it appears the scheme disproportionately affected Black and other POC investors. "The real tragedy is that Holiday Magic appeals to minority people who want to get rich," remarked SEC staff lawyer Louis F. Burke. Patrick bragged in 1968 that 2 of his top 6 distributors in the U.S. were Black, but even if that were true, it's not necessarily a good thing. As a former distributor noted, Holiday Magic's setup was "like being thrown into a dark pit. The only way you can get out is to drag another person into the pit and step on his shoulders." For the most part, Black customers would only be further disenfranchised if they bought into Holiday Magic. As if that's not bad enough, the company didn't even attempt to formulate any products for deep skin tones. As one wise Black would-be Holiday Magic salesman pointed out in 1975, the line was intended for white people: "Holiday Magic packaged cosmetics for fair-skinned people. Now why in the world would I want to sell light lipstick to Black women?" At least Avon tried to come up with products that would be suitable for Black customers.
(images from ebay)
In the UK, it's estimated that the West Indian community lost £33 million in the early 1970s, and 26 people committed suicide after losing everything. These figures are somewhat corroborated by a British publication called Grassroots, which in 1974 reported that Holiday Magic targeted "almost exclusively West Indian and Asian communities" in the Midlands region. It's incredibly heartbreaking considering that people were taking out second mortgages on their homes to sink £1,000 into becoming a Holiday Magic distributor, only to end up paying at least double that in the long run and ending up far worse off financially than they were before. Note: I know nothing about this Grassroots publication and have no idea how reliable it is, but I don't think their claims are completely baseless.
It was obvious early on that Patrick was going beyond an MLM and into pyramid scheme territory along with the other illegal sales tactics, yet Holiday Magic was being advertised nationally in well-known publications as late as 1969, and still being sold in pyramid form through 1973. (A new Holiday Magic line with a less deceptive sales model was sold through the mid-'80s.) Perhaps it was a combination of systemic racism and his unbridled wealth that Patrick's sham wasn't stopped before it did so much damage. Maybe if he targeted only wealthy white people he would have been shut down sooner? Then again, Madoff did just that for about the same amount of time.
Anyway, despite what the show's creators say, I think the short-lived TV series On Becoming a God in Central Florida was based mostly on Holiday Magic – even more so than Amway. Everything, from the cult-like behavior and "motivational" mantras spewed by Patrick to the garages full of product and targeting of BIPOC communities has an uncanny resemblance to Holiday Magic.
– In accessibility news, here are some new makeup brushes designed for people with vision and motor impairments.
– You know I'm obsessed with vintage makeup ads and can spend hours dissecting the harmful messages they embodied, so I'm loving these reimagined ones featuring diverse models.
– Vogue has an ode to a '90s cosmetics staple. Can you believe I didn't own a Caboodles? If I recall correctly it's because even when I was a teenager I hoarded collected makeup and I knew it wouldn't all fit.
– It was Christian Dior's birthday on January 21, so to celebrate I took a picture of nearly all the Museum's 5-Couleurs eyeshadow palettes. Of course I managed to forget one. Oh well. They still look pretty. 🙂
The random:
– In '90s nostalgia, Silence of the Lambs turned 30, and for some reason one hit wonders New Radicals performed, well, their one hit at the inauguration.
– At least this made me laugh. The resemblance is uncanny!
How was the first month of 2021 for you?
Makeup Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum topics as they relate to the preservation, research and exhibition of cosmetics, along with my vision for a physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me think through how I'd run things if the Museum occupied a physical public space, as well as examine the ways it's currently functioning. I also hope that these posts make everyone see that just because the Makeup Museum does not have a physical space or official nonprofit designation, it is as valid as other museums, and more legitimate than many other profit-driven entities calling themselves "museums".
Let me just say up front that the timing of this post has nothing to do with the Capitol insurrection that took place a few weeks ago, or the fact that Black History Month starts in two days. This is something that's been in the works for over a year, as it's extremely important to the Museum's mission and to me personally. After giving myself a crash course in diversity and inclusion, I feel as though I'm finally ready to write something a little more in-depth than the thoughts I jotted down back in June 2020. One of the Museum's primary goals is to present makeup and its history differently than what currently exists, and a big part of that is sharing previously undiscovered or underrepresented stories. So many of them concern BIPOC and LGBTQ+ histories, and it's important to tell them not just for diversity's sake but for history more generally.
This post will not go into detail regarding the obvious facts that 1. Despite good intentions, all museums are rooted in colonialism; 2. U.S. museums have a critical diversityproblem; and 3. Diverse and inclusive museums are better in every way than non-inclusive spaces. Instead, it seeks to answer the following question: How can the Makeup Museum, in its current state, be as diverse and inclusive as possible? I don't have all the answers, but MM Musings are an exercise to think through the heavier issues and ponder how the Museum can be better – more of a journey than an endpoint. To help guide this installment of MM Musings I relied on these two books, along with the anti-racism books I purchased last year. I also looked at all the articles and other resourcesI could access for free online.
As I noted previously, there are unique challenges for a cosmetics museum to become a diverse and inclusive space. But that doesn't mean there's not room for improvement. If the Museum occupied a physical space and had paid employees (well-paid and with full benefits, of course, and while I hope they would not have a need for a union, they would absolutely be encouraged to form one if they want), it would no doubt have a diverse boardand staff at all levels that would be treated as integral to the organization and not tokens, along with the other essentials such as diversity training for docents and consultants to continually evaluate the Museum's efforts and provide recommendations. In its current form, however, the primary focus in terms of diversity and inclusion is on the Museum's content and collection. Since there are no blueprints as to how to run an online cosmetics museum/blog whose existence and finances depend entirely on one person who is also not technically a museum professional, it's tricky to come up with a concrete plan of action for diversity and inclusion. But here's a start.
Diversify the collection.
Collecting Chinese, Japanese and Korean brands are not an issue, nor are ones founded or owned by LGBTQ+ people – there are plenty of those as well as artist/fashion collaborations – but Latinx and Indigenous brands and collabs remain somewhat elusive. I can write about my beloved Pai Pai but they no longer ship to the U.S., and I know of only a handful of other Latinx or Indigenous-owned brands. Contemporary Black-owned brands are easier to find than ever now so I will continue purchasing more from them, but it's still difficult to find many vintage pieces simply because there were so few compared to the big mainstream brands, none of which catered to BIPOC's needs until the 1960s or so (and even then their efforts continued to miss the mark.) I will continue to keep my eyes peeled and buy from BIPOC and LGBTQ+ brands as much as possible.
Diversify blog, IG and exhibition content.
The Museum's collection may not be diverse enough right now, but that doesn't mean I can't write about objects or other pieces of makeup history related to BIPOC and LGBTQ+ communities, along with topics centered on ageism within the industry and people with disabilities. There are so many that are either have not been fully explored or not mentioned at all. One stumbling block remains: namely, I'm still not sure they're stories appropriate for a white, able-bodied, cis-het woman to tell. This is particularly important when discussing makeup used by Indigenous people, as in some cases it has a spiritual or religious purpose rather than beautification or self-expression. I'm afraid I don't have a solution other than to forge ahead and write about topics that may not be 100% appropriate but that are important. I think as long as I'm treating them in a sensitive manner and open to feedback and constructive criticism, it's better to share these histories even if they're from a non-BIPOC/LGBTQ+ person. One thing I eventually learned last summer was that being totally silent and not even attempting to diversify content is worse than trying and getting it wrong. I only hope I don't inflict any harm, but if I do, then I can always remove the post and do better the next time.
Search for more BIPOC and LGBTQ+ artists and brands to feature on Instagram and in Color Connections.
Exhibitions: How are BIPOC and LGBTQ+ represented in exhibitions? If they're not adequately represented, why? The solutions to this would normally be to have an exhibition that thoroughly incorporates diverse objects and voices, or have one focused on BIPOC and LGBTQ+ themes and ensure appropriate curation and oversight, e.g. not hiring someone who doesn't belong to those groups or has little to no knowledge about the topic at hand. This is a hurdle for the Makeup Museum as the founder and sole curator is not from an underrepresented group. The only thing I can do at the moment is choose exhibition topics in which marginalized people have adequate representation and make sure they see themselves in the exhibitions. It must be obvious that they're not niche visitors and that they are essential to the story the exhibition is telling. Theoretically I could explore whether anyone would be interested in co-curating or guest curating an exhibition focused on BIPOC or LGBTQ+, but as the Museum is entirely a labor of love and I'm unable to provide compensation, I'm sure as hell not asking someone from a marginalized group to curate or write for free. That brings me to my next point.
Identify fees for guest writers, curators and consultants and see if they are feasible without drastically cutting the budget for new acquisitions.
Like most of the initiatives I would love to pursue such as overhauling the website ($10-20k), purchasing archival storage containers ($1-2k), establishing a nonprofit (about $2-4k), getting a degree in museum or curatorial studies ($50k minimum) and purchasing and maintaining proper collections management software ($2k per year), I fear I would never be able to afford to hire professionals to work on the Museum with me even if I never bought another object, but it can't hurt to at least ask what their fees are. And who knows, perhaps I could even work out a plan whereby payments are due in installments rather than the full sum up front.
Further develop a community-focused, collaborative mindset.
Since its inception the Museum has operated in a mostly isolated environment. I'm not only a hardcore introvert and lifelong loner, but I always wanted to have my own space, something that I had full control over and without the involvement of anyone else. And that impulse is still quite strong. But I've also always wanted to educate, and though I'm not comfortable with it, being a resource means inviting people to help create it: by the public, for the public. Community for the Museum largely means either makeup aficionados/professionals or the local geographic area. I've always asked blog visitors to respond to my posts, and starting with the Stila girls exhibition in 2019, I began asking visitors to submit memories, photos or anything else they'd like to share to be incorporated into the exhibition. Lately I started investigating how the Museum might be able to collaborate with local museums, schools and historical centers – obviously I've considered pitching a pop-up exhibition at their spaces for over a decade now, but I realized I have to be more mindful of the approach. There's no way an organization is going to agree to host or be involved with an outside museum offering a pop-up exhibition if it has nothing to do with their mission or at least their collections. The goal, it seems, is to match interests. For example, the Maryland Center for History and Culture would be more interested in an exhibition on a history of Baltimore beauty parlors than, say, a display of rose-themed makeup, because their mission and collection have nothing to do with botany or natural history but is focused on the state of MD. I think there are ways in which the Museum can engage with both the makeup and local communities, and become more diverse and inclusive in doing so.
Establish metrics for the Museum's collection and content and share them publicly.
To keep any organization accountable in their diversity and inclusion efforts, it's necessary to track measurable outcomes of said efforts. Museums and Race's report card gave me the idea to develop one for the Museum based on the steps listed above. It would be updated annually each January and indicate the progress or maintenance of goals, which are as follows:
Increase the number of posts that focus on or incorporate BIPOC and LGBTQ+ makeup and related topics (for example, the "multicultural" makeup of the '90s). Originally I wanted to follow U.S. demographics and keep a strict 60/40 split in which 40% of posts would be BIPOC-focused, with 18% Latinx topics/artists/brands, 15% Black, 6% Asian and 1% Indigenous. Alas, after crunching some numbers I realized that it would be impossible unless I both greatly scaled back the number of Asian-focused posts and hired or collaborated with BIPOC/LGBTQ+, and there's no telling if I will be able to achieve the latter. So for now, I'm going to take stock of what was written in 2020 and plan on more diverse posts in 2021. In terms of Instagram, taking a cue from the 15% pledge, my goal is to ensure at least 15% of IG posts feature Black makeup history, artists, models or Black-owned brands. I've been doing 11% since June (or 1 out of every 9 posts) and it has proved challenging. It's difficult because I don't want to repeat the same brands, models or artists ad nauseam and also want to provide meaningful and unique content, i.e. I don't want to toss up some ad that people have seen a thousand times before, especially without offering any new insight, just because I need to fill a quota that I set. Representation is critical, but can easily veer into tokenism. Having said that, I'd still like for 1 post out of every 6 (or 17%) to have Black-focused content and I'm working on how I can do that without blindly regurgitating things that are readily available and well-known. I'm also going to count other topics towards this goal even if they don't show a Black model or brand. For example, I have a bottle of Revlon's Touch and Glow foundation from the early 1950s in the deepest shade they made up until about 1957. As you may have guessed, it's medium toned at best. This is an example of how mainstream brands simply did not care about the needs of BIPOC customers, especially Black ones. I'm still not sure how to handle other demographics, however; as noted above, Latinx and Indigenous brands, artists and topics are somehow more difficult to find than Black ones. Nevertheless, Instagram makes it easy to track so I will take stock of 2020's posts and work on at least increasing the number of posts involving these groups.
Increase the number of Museum objects from BIPOC-owned brands. I will keep track of what was acquired each year and work out the proportion of objects that came from BIPOC-owned brands. Then monitor those numbers each year to ensure they increase. For example, I purchased 22 makeup ads in 2020 and 6 of them were from Black-owned brands or featured Black models. So this year, let's say I purchase 22 ads again, 7 or more of them should be from BIPOC-owned brands or feature BIPOC models. The acquisition of objects from white-owned brands will still soundly outpace BIPOC-owned ones, especially for vintage pieces, but the goal is to increase that number and work towards a bigger percentage of BIPOC-owned objects in the collection.
Track the number of BIPOC and LGBTQ+ people or organizations I reached out or donated to, along with community organizations. While nothing may come of these attempts on my part to collaborate with them, I feel it's important to at least get in touch. And there are plenty of BIPOC and LGBTQ individuals and organizations that can use donations.
Ensure all exhibitions meaningfully represent BIPOC and LGBTQ+ individuals and brands, and if not, discuss why.
I think this sort of report card is more valuable than some bland diversity statement. Most of the statements I found lacked substance – they were just a bunch of jargon with no actionable steps outlined.
The Museum's diversity efforts are ongoing, of course. And I plan on tackling the related topics of social change and accessibility as future installments of MM Musings. But this is a beginning of a shift towards meaningful action. Thoughts? I'm off to create a report card for 2020 so I will have something to compare 2021 to.
MAC's Frosted Fireworks was already a fun collection, but they managed to sneak in an artist collab in their holiday lineup too. And amazingly, the artist actually responded to my interview request and kindly answered my questions! We'll get to that in a minute, but to see how Bob Jordan's beautiful designs fit in to MAC's holiday collection, we'll take a quick peek at those objects first.
I picked up the eyeshadow in Silver Bells, highlighter in Let It Glow, highlighting palette, lipstick in Once Bitten, Ice Shy, lip gloss in Set Me Off and the Firelit Kit. Maybe it's because I always have the '90s on the brain, but Frosted Fireworks seemed straight out of 1996 or thereabouts to my eye – both the finishes and retro star patterns are reminiscent of the second half of the decade's obsession with frost and penchant for kitschy takes on MCM designs.
And now for something very special! Here's my interview with Brooklyn-based graphic designer and artist Bob Jordan, who created the bright and exuberant designs for MAC. Bob has a B.F.A. in Graphic Design from Maine College of Art. He founded his design firm, Factory 808 Designs, in 2014. While he had never made cosmetics packaging before, I think he absolutely nailed the MAC collection. I'm so pleased to have some of his work in the Museum and hope to see more makeup creations from him.
MM: Tell me a little bit about your background. Were you always interested in art? How did you end up in graphic design?
Bob: I grew up in my grandfather’s woodshop helping him out. He taught me how to solve problems and think creatively. When I was a teenager, I realized I could draw. Those two things became the foundation for everything I do now. I got into design because it allowed me to be multi-disciplinary in my creative approach. There are a lot of mediums I like to work with and I use them all in my projects. Most importantly, I get to draw. It doesn’t matter what I’m working, everything starts with a pencil and paper.
MM: Who or what influences your work? What other artists and designers do you admire?
Bob: My first influence -and still favorite- is Chuck Close. I’ve always loved his use of color and shape in his compositions. I admire his resilience and his determination to continue to create his art even as a quadriplegic. I have a lot of respect for his process. I also love Sister Corita Kent. She was a pop art nun who fought for social justice causes and was also a teacher at Immaculate Heart College in Los Angeles. Most people would know her as the LOVE stamp designer from the 1980’s. Her 10 rules for Students and Teachers is timeless.
(image from cbsnews.com)
My other major influence is my home and community in Brooklyn. I am inspired daily just by simply walking outside. You get to see both known and unknown artists' work here. There’s a particular energy that resonates with me. Obviously it's tough to look into the future, but I know that it will always be a huge influence on my work.
MM: How did the collaboration with MAC happen? Did you approach them or vice versa?
Bob: The collaboration with MAC was very organic in its development. The head of digital at MAC as she is constantly on the hunt for collaborating with local NY designers on product and packaging design. Discussions began before COVID and went in the summer. It was some thing that we waited for the right time to do.
MM: What was the process like? Did they give you free reign or any sort of direction?
Bob: This process was a pretty open. There was a some seasonal themes and color ways that it needed to adhere to but there was a considerable amount of freedom. I’ve always found these types projects to be very difficult but the most rewarding.
MM: What inspired you to create the designs you did? What was your vision for the collection?
I was someone would had left the city during COVID and spent 9 months in the woods. It was a humbling experience and it allowed me to focus on some other projects but I was also missing the vibrance of the city. I had to come back and just walk around and soak up all the colors and energy. I would walk around during the day and then draw at night. I did that over and over til I found where I needed to be.
MM: How was the experience designing makeup packaging different than other projects you've worked on?
Bob: Designing for makeup packaging is not that different from some of my other work. I design a lot of packaging for cannabis products and there are many similarities. A lot of it is actually makeup packaging that is used so I’m used to working on small products. This was actually a lot easier because I just had to focus on the art and didn’t have to worry about any state regulations.
MM: Would you work with a cosmetics company again?
Bob: This was actually my first experience working with one, the opportunity to work with one just hadn’t come up in the past. I would definitely consider working with a cosmetics company again, but as with any project, I would need to make sure it's the right fit.
MM: Please share any thoughts you might have on makeup packaging or cosmetics in general.
Bob: I really hope that makeup packaging becomes more sustainable and minimalistic. I feel that way about all packaging. Working on cannabis packaging has really opened my eyes about how much packaging waste there is. I love designing packaging and I want to make sure that I’m doing my part. I would love to connect with cosmetics and any other companies whose mission it is to create sustainable products. That's the future. It has to be.
Bob, thank you so much for talking with the Makeup Museum! This was certainly enlightening and so interesting to hear the details behind this collection. And for Museum visitors, which piece is your favorite? I love both but I think the Peace design is my preference.
