W hen I trained as a makeup artist 20 years ago, it felt like a glamorous, exciting career. My expertise was valued and I loved working with people to help them feel good about themselves. But all that has changed since the pandemic. I used to get a rude comment every few months; now, it’s at least once or twice a week.
I work on the makeup counter of a department store. Once, after handing a customer a mirror, I was told: “You’ve made my eyes look like sparkly ball bags!” I had spent 30 minutes perfecting the smoky eye she had requested and her horrible response felt really unnecessary. I had no idea what to say and the awkward atmosphere was unbearable. I have never been so relieved to see a customer walk out.
The job has always involved managing people’s expectations, but, thanks to the rise of social media, it has becoming harder to do that. I will be passed images of a heavily made-up, airbrushed Kim Kardashian and be expected to recreate the look, or told that I’m doing my job wrong because they have seen a teenager on TikTok doing it differently.
One customer requested a Disney princess look for her birthday party. I told her we didn’t have the right colours to achieve what she wanted, but offered an alternative. Throughout the makeover, she grilled me on my credentials, making me feel that I wasn’t good enough. I’ve had years of experience, but she was stressing me out so much that I was getting the sweats.
Another customer asked for a lipstick that was “nothing like the one you are wearing”. When I suggested she opt for a red colour similar to my colleague’s, she told us she didn’t want to look like a porn star. It’s as though people have lost the ability to censor themselves; they blurt out these rude, unfiltered
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