Martha McCully, a New York City editor who went West at 48, puts down her eyeliner, at last
My eyeliner is wearing me out—in more ways than one. I have carried my favorite eye pencils (MAC Teddy Eye Kohl, Sheer Cover Plum) across the country from New York to Los Angeles. Now, every time I’m out and catch a glimpse of myself, all I see is eyeliner. It’s making me appear older, something I don’t need while living a life that is perfectly appropriate for 21-year-old college juniors. I’m reminded that certain looks, just like certain prescription drugs, foods and relationships, have expiration dates.
When I arrived, I assumed the L.A. stereotype would be the look here, puffed up lips, cheeks, breasts, bums and whatever else is possible. And sure, that exists in certain parts of L.A. But where I live, by the beach in Venice, it’s the opposite. The look is all of the elements of youth, as plain and simple as possible, even naturally exaggerated: Glowing skin, ruddy cheeks, long, loose wavy hair with real highlights (remember those started at the beach, not in foils), a friendly smile. It’s not about foundation or eyebrow pencil; fake blush is unnecessary, lipstick kind of absurd. And it’s not about eyeliner.
That’s not to say I want to look like everyone else. I don’t. But the Peace, Love, and Beach thing just reminds me that my staples—eyeliner and brow pencil, eye shadows for the lid and crease, foundation and a touch of powder—are not only weirdly out of place, but dated, which makes me dated (not be confused with dating…. I’m sadly not dated in that way.)
Anyway, I developed this look a decade ago, when office makeup was corporate armor of sorts. Makeup to camouflage a late night out, a good blow-out that lasted for days, heels the higher the better, they were all part of looking “professional.”
And this wasn’t the first time I fell into a beauty snapshot. In the 1980s my look was, well, colorful. Princess Marcella Borghese compact powder lipstick in a bright—I mean bright—pink, a turquoise-y eye shadow, and teased red hair that was easily hiding a can of Paul Mitchell watermelon-scented hair spray, extra hold. I wore it for years with my Chanel-style Kookai jackets, happily, proudly.
