Me, Myself & Eyelashes

If the eyes are the window to the soul, then the eyelashes are surely the curtains. Some are straight and unadorned like Venetian blinds, some have the fluttering charm of lace drapes curling in the breeze, and some are as dramatic as velvet stage curtains sweeping open. My eyelashes fall into the first category. Straight, pale and short, they are all function and very little fun.

This is perhaps the opposite of my hair, which is thick, blond and down to my tailbone, its length a perpetual performance and party trick. It’s the part of my appearance most often commented upon. “What do I have to do to get my hair that long?” people stop and ask me. “Stay alive!” is the best answer I can think of. There’s no great trick to hair growth, or at least there hasn’t been for me. I live, it grows. But saying this seems glib, so I try to come up with tips. Chop off an inch every few months. Try essential oils. Whisper to your strands sweetly and without judgment. People usually walk away confused.

My eyelashes, meanwhile, are a forgotten footnote. They are rarely commented upon. But if you are fair like me, even the slightest change to them can drastically transform one’s face. The first item of makeup I remember using was a black drugstore mascara borrowed from my older sister. Instantly, I looked different: more mature, more awake. Ever since, it has been the one item of makeup I could not go without. I used to feel so unlike myself when not wearing it that in college I would wake up before my boyfriend and reapply a coat before he stirred. (I had a lot more nervous energy back then.)

This year, the combination of entering my thirties, getting married and spending months at home has meant I’ve stopped wearing mascara everyday. For the first time in my adult life, I’ve gotten used to how I look without it. My unembellished face, with its pale lashes and practically invisible brows, has a muted quality. When I’m feeling generous, I like to think of it as Nordic looking; when I’m not, I call it mousy.

My best friend has the kind of eyelashes that cast a shadow over her cheeks when she looks down. They are thick and curled and jet black—exactly what most of us hope to achieve with a set of fake lashes. “I wish I had your eyelashes,” I sigh at her.
“Sure, they’re great,” she says. “But try having hair this thick all over your body.” “What’s wrong with that?” I ask. “You shouldn’t have to be hairless.”

“This,” says my friend. “From a woman who has never had to shave her knuckles.”

I’ll admit that adding hair to your body is often a less daunting prospect than removing it. But I used to think wearing fake lashes during the day was a bit like wearing sequins to the supermarket. Sure, you could do it, it was just kind of...A lot. That was, of course, because I had never tried a really good pair. Enter LoveSeen.

“I have terrible hand-eye coordination,” is the first thing I said to Jenna and Troi when they asked me to try their new lashes. It took me weeks to master contact lenses, I warned them, I doubt I’ll fare much better with fake lashes. But, once I conquered the glue stick (infinitely easier than touching your own eyeball, let me tell you), I think what surprised me most was how natural I felt wearing them.

I recently wore the Luca for a full day of errands, including a very windy bike ride, and completely forgot I had them on—until, for the first time ever, someone told me they wished they had my eyelashes. Finally, I had a good answer to this kind of comment: You can! If beauty is a matter of attention and transformation, then fake lashes ask me to pay attention to myself in a way I rarely do. I enjoy the focus required to put them on, the noticeable difference in my appearance once I’ve succeeded. It may seem counterintuitive, but I like how I look with or without them equally. Both are the real me.