Is makeup for men going mainstream?
The latest movement in the world of beauty is makeup for men. How popular is it with the boys? Vogue finds out
Men have had a long and complicated relationship with makeup, one that is inextricably linked with the changing faces of masculinity throughout history. In more recent past, men in makeup have been decidedly non-mainstream—but delve beyond the buttoned-up 19th century and you’ll find that men have been face-painting for millennia.
The Egyptians loved a smoky eye; the Greeks were into eye creams; Romans were partial to a pig’s-blood mani; and Brits daubed themselves in blue paint to frightening effect. Then, moving through the Elizabethan age to the 18th century, an alabaster pallor was everything.
As the definition of masculinity became more rigid, the use of makeup among men started to decline, and by the 20th century it was widely considered transgressive. Albeit with notable, iconic exceptions. There was Bowie’s otherworldly metamorphosis into Ziggy Stardust at the hands of Pierre La Roche; the feline flick that intensified Prince’s lonely, lustful stare; and Brian Eno’s penchant for multicoloured eyeshadow—Mary Quant crayons were his favourites.
And now, it seems the beauty trends are turning once again. Towards the end of 2018, luxury brands including Chanel, Tom Ford and Marc Jacobs launched cosmetic lines specifically for men (plus online beauty tutorials to match). As the conversation around how we define gender roles gains ground, could 2019 be the year that male makeup becomes mainstream?
Chanel and Mr Ford aren’t the first to mine the male makeup market. Fifteen years ago, when “metrosexual” was a buzzword, Jean Paul Gaultier launched Le Mâle Tout Beau Tout Propre—a range that included an illuminating moisturiser, bronzing powder, lip gloss, nail varnish, a brow and lash groomer, concealer and eyeliner. The marketing went to great lengths to distinguish the products from their female counterparts (“It’s matte! Look, no shimmer!”), while chunky black applicators reassured the wearer that he wasn’t about to fall headfirst into an existential crisis. The range soon disappeared from shelves without a fuss.
Perhaps it was trying too hard—or perhaps Gaultier was way ahead of the curve, catering to a Gen Z audience that was literally in its infancy. Now that the likes of Jaden Smith (who has been vocal on the subject of gender fluidity and neutrality) have come of age, and the landscape becomes increasingly disgendered, launching a tinted moisturiser feels far less of a big deal.
The recent boom in luxury grooming and skincare products for men has paved the way for mainstream men’s makeup—moisturising foundation, bronzing gel, concealer and brow definer are not much of a psychological stretch for a man who already invests in premium skincare. The goal, it would appear, is to look well groomed, rather than made-up. There is no Bowie-esque flamboyance, no incendiary political statements about inclusivity or diversity—and so far, there is no colour, it’s subtle (mirroring the trend in women’s makeup for a natural look too).
“It feels like a reactive marketing strategy, as opposed to a proactive one,” says Alex Dalley, who launched his online men’s makeup brand MMUK seven years ago. For him, wearing makeup was all about confidence. “My acne was so bad,” he recalls. “My first experience with makeup was when my mum put some foundation on me for my sixth-form prom.” Later, at university, friends kept asking to borrow his concealer so they’d look better in their newly created Facebook profiles. “It was then that I realised I could create a range for men,” he says. “The demand has always been there—even pre-selfie—but the market has only just caught up.” Discretion, Dalley says, was a priority in the mid-2000s; he would routinely receive emails from customers requesting plain packaging.
Today, there’s little evidence of any stigma, with MMUK looking set to turn over between £3.5 and £5 million and rolling out into 15 new territories; it’s stocked by ASOS, too. It offers everything from colour-correcting palettes and CC creams to mineral bronzers, “guyliners” and “manscaras”, combining an extensive own-brand line with a selection of hand-picked premium labels. Dalley’s first impression of the launches from the big fashion houses is that they’re limited, especially in terms of the shades they offer. Indeed, the selection of men’s products is so small and safe that it feels like a stretch to call it makeup at all.
Those men who are interested in a smoky eye would be better served by unisex brands like Make Up For Ever, M.A.C or Nars. They might look to fully made-up influencers like James Charles, Cover Girl’s first cover boy, Manny MUA, Patrick Starrr and Jeffree Star (a veritable constellation of online celebrities). And tune in to Boy Beauty on Snapchat to check out the routines of men who understand the art of contouring, highlighting and draping. These influencers have generated innumerable clicks and dollars for cosmetics giants like Coty, who see great value in diversity, and who have signed many of them as faces or ambassadors.
“In my view there are three strains of gender nonconformity,” says transgender makeup artist and non-binary activist Joseph Harwood. “There’s drag, there’s trans, and then there’s the male who plays with makeup in a creative way.” The latter isn’t about to tell you how to cover an errant zit, so much as teach you how to transform yourself into one of Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s Cats, a pack of Cheez-Its, or Katy Perry. It is here, on social media and on YouTube, that we find a generation of men that acknowledge the artifice of makeup and run with it.
At a certain point, it becomes hard to ignore the fact that the vast majority of these influencers have been reduced to peddling product rather than pioneering for the genderqueer generation—and this is what irks Harwood the most. “It feels like if you’re doing ‘beauty’ online, you can’t do ‘activism’. Why can’t you be a drag queen and be transgender?” he asks. Even at this end of the spectrum, the labels employed by the media are too limiting.
“It’s the companies and the magazines that create these boxes. I wish that people were given campaigns on the back of who they are, and not the box they fit into,” Harwood continues. To that end, Harwood decided to lend his face to Jecca, a gender-free and vegan makeup brand that supports the LGBTQ community. Other brands are doing similar, ethically-charged work. Milk Makeup launched a campaign in 2017 designed to “blur the lines” and question preconceived ideas about gender. While Fluide offers “makeup and beauty products designed for all skin tones and gender expressions”.
Regardless of the categories that creatives can be boxed into—the influence flows both ways between brands and agencies and the influencers themselves—one thing remains clear: genderqueer Gen Z knows how to have fun. There’s something captivating about watching the shapeshift in their videos. There is humour, self-expression and joyful creativity in every kilobyte of media uploaded.
It is unclear if it is boys, girls, the gender fluid, or all of the above, who are following these online celebrities—but maybe that’s the point. Whether watching makeup videos or wearing makeup, gender no longer needs to be part of the equation.
Also read:
On gender fluidity and its place in Hindu spirituality
Artist Durga Gawde tells us what it means to be gender-fluid
