I’m pretty convinced that my mother spent the entire time I was in her womb rubbing glitter on her belly. I came into this world obsessed with beauty products. My earliest childhood memories consist of watching my lovely flight-attendant mother spending endless time in the mirror painting on the perfect face.
I wasn’t allowed to play with barbie. My mother wanted me to value being smart and kind and educated. While I did my best to become all of those things, I mainly wanted to get my hands on her eyelash curler and BECOME Barbie. If I couldn’t play with them, I was going to be one…specifically Malibu Beach Barbie.
Thankfully, the bohemian vibe of growing up in Carmel, California put a slight damper on my plans, shaping me into a more tolerable version of my Barbie dreams. Hence the prius instead of a pink corvette…. but a girl can still dream.
Everyday that I wake and find myself putting make-up on a pretty girl or fluffing some long soft hair into beachy bedhead waves, I am making up for my barbie-free childhood. Being a make-up artist is the adult version of playing with dolls. Sorry Mom… your plan backfired.