According to Mintel, as many as 83% of women in the UK wear makeup. Sixty-four percent of those who do say it makes them feel confident, 43% say it makes them feel attractive, 16% feel more professional and 15% feel empowered. It's no wonder, then, that for some women, leaving the house without makeup can be a daunting experience.
On the other hand, the 'no-makeup makeup' look has evolved and women all over the globe, including influencers and celebrities, are ditching the tens of products needed to create it for, well, nothing at all. A quick whip round the R29 office cites a lack of time, a desire to embrace natural freckles and a fear of clogged pores (note – pick non-comedogenic makeup and this is much less likely to happen) as reasons for deciding not to wear makeup.
Of course, in 2018, wearing or not wearing makeup should be a woman's prerogative, whether you strobe, contour and bake every morning or opt for a little SPF moisturiser and nothing else. But in the name of beauty, we decided to conduct a little experiment...
Here's what happened when R29's makeup-dependent beauty editor, Jacqueline, swapped looks with R29's PR director (and total makeup phobe), Nina, for four days straight.
Nina Joyce, PR Director Europe
I can’t exactly pinpoint the moment I stopped wearing makeup, but slowly my morning routine has dwindled to moisturiser, SPF, a smidge of concealer under the eyes and some lip balm. If that sounds smugly minimal and Goop-y, it’s really not in practice. I know I objectively look better with makeup. C’mon, I have eyes. Sometimes I look needlessly a bit rough and 10 minutes in front of the mirror could take me from looking like Garth from Wayne’s World on a hangover to...well...a prettier version of Garth from Wayne’s World. We all have our crosses to bear.
But when this challenge arose, I bashed everyone else out of the way with a mermaid tail highlighter brush to do the swap. You know why? Because it is my dream to have my own lucrative beauty career where I live off the sales of merchandise featuring my face on Wayne’s World makeup. Joking! I am a curious and vain human who wants to see if the alternative universe where I am better looking is worth dipping a toe into more often. Effectively I imagine it’ll be like having an Instagram filter on my face all day and oh boy, does that sound good.
Day One
I wake up bright and early on the first day of this challenge, bringing the same positive mental attitude that a labradoodle might on the first day of puppy school or wherever it is they get their qualifications from. Obviously I immediately fuck up putting concealer on my face, drying out my spots to such a degree that it looks like someone has sprinkled fish flakes all over me. Oh did I not mention I have adult acne? Cool, right? After slathering moisturiser all over and starting again, I finally get it right. Sort of. The problem is that I’m unsure when to stop applying foundation (I'm using Huda Beauty's Faux Filter, which is really full coverage) and as a rather pale woman, I’m beginning to look ever so slightly...Elizabethan. Which is great and fun if lead poisoning and executing cousins is your bag, but I have a working day ahead of me which doesn’t involve ruling a Tudor court.
After 50 minutes (YES, 50, YOU READ THAT RIGHT. AS IN ALMOST ONE HOUR OF MY TIME), I am done. I feel...not great. I don’t recognise the person looking back at me. I’m scared to touch my face. I’m pretty sure people are staring at me on the Tube. My colleagues are very supportive and tell me how lovely I look, but I suspect they’re fantastic liars. By the end of the day I’m itching to take it all off and I collapse into bed worrying about having to spend the coming days explaining what the hell I have done to myself. Bleurgh, I thought makeup was fun?
Day Two
I wake up with a sense of dread at putting all that on again. The previously bouncy puppy is no longer loving pup school. It’s now upset and embarrassed, like it’s been caught pissing in its owner’s hydrangeas while wearing 14 metric tonnes of foundation. I’ve also realised that all my knowledge of makeup in recent years derives almost exclusively from Drag Race and avant-garde YouTubers, so I decide I need to concentrate less on baking my face and more on making it look normal. I carefully dab at myself with a Beauty Blender (shoutout Jacqueline telling me this should be damp first, it was a game-changer) until I’m satisfied with the results.
I cast my mind back to GCSE art and add some depth and shading to my eyelids. To my surprise, when I’m taking the pictures to document this, I notice that quite frankly, I am deeply feeling myself. Done properly, this makeup has turned me into a master poser, giver of pout and provider of as much sauce as a white middle-class woman in Birkenstocks can expect to achieve without making everyone’s skin fall off in embarrassment, i.e. less than a thimbleful. But that’s enough for me! I’m still sort of dying when I have to look people in the eye, but this is progress.
Day Three
By this point I have refined my routine to a slick 30 mins of concealer, foundation, Benefit eyebrow pencil, three Urban Decay eyeshadows, liquid eyeliner, mascara, contour bronzer, blusher, highlighter and my old faithful lip balm. I abandoned lipstick after day one because my mouth kept getting crusty. I have endless respect for people who have the tenacity to reapply lipstick through the day. You are heroes and the responsibility to solve global warming is, I’m afraid, falling to you as the most reliable.
So far, feedback from friends has been split entirely by sex: women tell me I look amazing and want a makeover, while men stifle a laugh. Unless you’ve got a lifetime to spare, I won’t get into the social and cultural reasons why there might be this kind of gender disparity, but the general takeaway is the ever reliable adage "Screw Anyone Who Doesn’t Have Nice Stuff To Say".
By the end of the day, I begin to forget I’m even wearing the makeup, despite the #BritishHeatwave presenting the very real prospect of it all sliding down my face like expensive custard. I’ve realised that some of the reasons I’ve stopped wearing foundation ("It’ll look too obvious...my skin will get much worse...it’s too much hassle") are all a slightly strange self-flagellation because there’s a world of non-comedogenic products out there that work wonders when applied properly. Yes, I have learned what non-comedogenic means. Hear me roar.
Day Four
Saturdays would normally be a totally makeup-free day for me, but rules state I must test out my full face at the brunch place near my house I go to every week. And yes, weekly brunch, I know, I am a gross avocado-gurgling millennial who will never own property, let me live. I wonder if they’ll notice the change in my appearance? Wearing the entire arsenal of products, I step over the threshold, expecting confusion – maybe even judgement? But of course they could not literally give two shits what I look like as long as I keep giving them that sweet £7 for scrambled tofu (I. SAID. LET. ME. LIVE). I realise for the 148th time this week that my self-consciousness is wholly and squarely down to me and I need to quite frankly get over myself.
As a swansong to my week of makeup, my Love Island WhatsApp group (don’t pretend you don’t have one) decide we’ll get together and employ what I have learned before a night on the tiles. I do everyone’s makeup; I’m like the Bill Gates of cosmetics, I’m giving so much back to the community, although it’s concealer not condoms I deal in. A few days ago I might’ve dismissed this as a waste of time, but I have a new appreciation for the transformative power of makeup on a micro, personal level.
Sure, we might all look like Full On Monets but we’re having so much fun doing it, what’s the harm?
Jacqueline Kilikita, Beauty Editor
I was 11 when I had my first acne breakout, so taking pity on me, my mum gave me permission to raid her makeup bag for concealer. Her collection boasted all the high street icons – Maybelline's Great Lash mascara, Rimmel foundation, kohl eyeliner, Bourjois blush. Every day I'd raid her stash and apply one extra product until rocking a full face became the norm.
Today, my obsession with makeup knows no bounds. My acne has eased off a little, but I wake up at 6am every morning to make sure I have an hour and a half to fashion a cat eye sharp enough to cut my enemies and to sculpt my cheekbones better than all of Kim Kardashian-West's makeup artists combined. Foundation, bronzer, blusher, lashes: the lot. I virtually transform into a different person, looks and personality-wise.
Confession: If I ever stay round a guy's house, I'll reapply my makeup before bed and make sure I wake up before he does to reapply in the morning. And not long ago, I went to a masterclass with a celebrity makeup artist who made me remove every single stitch of what I'd painstakingly applied that day so she could show off her new products in front of around 30 beauty editors and influencers. Long story short, I had to stop myself from bursting into tears. Makeup is my comfort blanket, so the thought of going without for four days straight? In public? At work, on the Tube, on dates? Mission impossible. But in the name of this piece, I agreed.
Disclaimer: I had a lash lift a month ago, so my lashes look a little more curved than usual. I also have really dark, thick and just overall strong brows and give them a brush every morning – there's zero product in them, promise!
Day One
God I look like my brother. It feels so good not to set my alarm for stupid o'clock so I lounge around in my pyjamas all morning and just brush my hair, take my time on my skin (my La Roche-Posay Effaclar Duo SPF30 is giving me a good glow because I can't bathe myself in highlighter) and give my brows a bit of a brush. Although my dad asks if I'm alright because I look a "little pasty" and when I send my mum a picture of myself she just replies, "OH!" Thanks guys.
I'm supposed to be going on a last-minute date tonight but the thought of facing (ahem) that without even a little bit of makeup on really makes me panic – I feel incredibly insecure without it. So I lie and say that I'm not feeling very well and reschedule for next week. If you're reading this, I'm sorry. Instead, I book a mani-pedi – foot massage, hand treatments, the works – at fancy af new salon, Townhouse, just to make myself feel a little more human.
Confession number two: I also spend the day in glasses, partly because I can't see without them and partly because they hide half of my face. I keep my head down at work, so not very many people in the office actually notice I'm not wearing any makeup. I've got away with it!
Day Two
I meet a new PR for breakfast this morning and apologise for my bare face before I even introduce myself properly, which, come to think of it, is so stupidly insecure – note to self, don't apologise for your appearance ever again. But she says she wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't said anything. Even though we work in the beauty industry, we get talking about how hardly anyone wears a full face of makeup anymore. Instead, the focus is on great skin. I don't tell her I'm acne-prone and that today is just a good skin day. In the bathroom mirror, I pop a spot (gross, I know, but it's not hiding under 10 layers of concealer, so it's getting obliterated) and realise I have to go back into the restaurant with a half-swollen chin. Cool.
On my way back in, the same guy I walk past most mornings gives me a nod, which makes me realise I can't look that different without a full face. When I get back to the office, Nina comes over to show everyone her immaculate makeup, so I take off my glasses and that's when everyone realises I've gone barefaced. Cue a congregation around my desk. Our content director Gillian says I look pretty much the same, so I run with it. Anyway, it's hellishly hot outside and I'm thankful my foundation isn't dripping down my neck. Also, the sun has given me a bit of colour so I'm kinda feeling myself by the evening, hence the slight smile in this picture.
Day Three
I've really broken out along my cheeks, chin and forehead and I'm convinced it's because I keep touching my face with grubby keyboard fingers. When I've got makeup on, I won't go near it out of fear of messing it up, but now I'm picking and prodding all over the place, especially my cheeks. It's also 36 degrees today and my face feels really oily and dirty. I'm so much more aware of bacteria and pollution because in my mind, my makeup is almost shielding my skin from all the crap flying around in the environment. The only good thing is that I can reapply SPF, and I need all the protection I can get in this weather.
In the evening, I have dinner with a beauty brand and there are lots of beauty influencers, all wearing the most beautiful, Instagram-worthy makeup and I feel gross, so I wolf my meal down, sink a couple of glasses of wine and leave promptly. I don't feel like myself at all and try not to look anyone in the eye or make conversation. Thinking about it on the Central Line home, I'm being a bit overdramatic, so I give the cute guy in a suit opposite me a smile and he flashes one back. We get off at the same stop and he tells me I have nice eyes but because I'm a bumbling idiot I say something about not even having any mascara on today, which he doesn't understand because why would he even CARE. Cringe. I decide I'm just going to own this no-makeup thing from now on.
Day Four
I'm still quite spotty, but I've been blasting my face with a new, inexpensive retinol (it's really bloody good and all will be revealed soon) and swapped out my gentle foaming cleanser for Goldfaden MD's Detox Clarifying Wash, £32, which eradicates all the oil, bacteria and dead skin. Hang on. My obsession with makeup has just been replaced with skincare because my face is a little more on show. What can I say? I'm a beauty editor, after all.
It's the weekend and I'm meeting my best friend and her boyfriend for lunch (professional third wheel available for hire) but because they know me well, I don't feel that embarrassed around them. My friend notices I've gone barefaced (and says I look exactly the same) but her boyfriend doesn't. They suggest going out for drinks that evening but the thought of meeting new people without wearing even so much as a slick of mascara makes me a bit anxious, so I lie (again – I think I have a problem now) and say I have a few errands to run and head home instead. When I'm sitting on the sofa watching Blind Date on my tod, I get a wave of FOMO and feel stupid for declining. I vow to go out next time...
What I've learned is that my insecurity is just that – mine. Hardly anyone really cares or notices whether I wear makeup or not. This is absolutely huge for me. I've decided that Mondays are going to be my no-makeup days, so that I get a lie-in and because I've realised the world won't end if I don't wear foundation.
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