Mascara Madness: Finding Humor in Makeup Mishaps

There’s a special place reserved for the chaos inflicted by mascara. As someone who has trekked across continents, from the sunburnt landscapes of Australia to the streets of Mexico (where I now live), my makeup bag has been a constant companion — a small reminder of home or, perhaps, of the woman I once was or imagined myself to be. Yet, if there’s one thing that transcends cultures, it’s the universal struggle with makeup : specifically mascara.

A sleek, cylindrical harbinger of promise and despair, in its essence, it’s a simple tool meant to enhance the beauty of one’s eyes, to frame them as the proverbial windows to the soul. But, oh, how well it can also betray us!

Picture this: a serene morning, birds chirping outside your window, a gentle breeze wafting through the air, and there you are, standing in front of the mirror, mascara wand in hand, poised to conquer the day. The goal? To achieve those luscious, fluttery lashes that every advertisement swears is just a few strokes away.

The reality, however, is often less poetic. There’s an art to applying mascara : a delicate balance between too little and looking like you’ve barely slept and too much, where you venture into the realm of the dreaded spider lashes. I’ve had my fair share of battles with clumps that seemed to materialize out of thin air, lashes sticking together in an unsolicited pact against my efforts to look presentable.

And then theres the waterworks issue. You know, those moments when emotion or simple fate (like chopping onions or a gust of wind carrying just enough dust to sabotage you) decides it’s time to unleash a flood. Suddenly, you’re not just dealing with tears but with the disheartening sight of your hard work betraying you, streaking down your face in a mockery of gothic tears. It’s in these moments, mascara running amok, that I’ve often wondered if the ancient Egyptians, credited with the creation of mascara, ever foresaw such dilemmas.

Humidity is another foe. Having lived in places with weather ranging from dry and arid to so humid you could swear the air is trying to hug you, I’ve seen the best and worst of what mascara can do. The ‘raccoon eye’ phenomenon, a look not chosen but rather bestowed by humidity, has been a recurring theme in my life. There’s nothing quite like stepping into a room, feeling confident, only to catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror and realize you resemble a woodland creature more than the sophisticated adult you aimed to be.

I recall a time when, in a bid to defy my mascara’s smudge-prone nature, I decided to invest in a waterproof formula. ‘Waterproof’, they said. ‘Cry, swim, survive a monsoon,’ they promised. What they didn’t mention was the Herculean effort it would also take to remove it! I spent a good part of the evening scrubbing at my eyes, each moment passing by with the growing realization that this mascara might very well be my new permanent accessory.