My actual makeup routine. Not the one I'd film for a brand.
There's a version of this post where I stand in perfect window light and talk about "ritual." This isn't that.
My makeup happens in the ten minutes between finding a shoe and losing the other one. It happens while I'm mentally rewriting a supplier email. It has been done in a car. It has been done in a car more than once.
And before anything else: I don't do this every day. Plenty of mornings I don't put anything on at all, and not because I've run out of time — because I like my skin. I work hard on it. It's the one thing I'm consistent about, and I'm not going to spend years getting it into good order just to cover it up out of habit.
So this isn't a routine I owe anyone. It's the one I do on the days I want to. When I feel like expressing myself a bit more, when I want a bit of colour and a bit of light and a bit of an edge. That's the difference. It's a choice, not a fix.
And on those days, I've stopped calling the ten minutes vanity, because that's not what they are. Inside my head I'm already three decisions deep and moving. The makeup just brings my face up to speed. It's not about looking better than I feel — it's about looking like I feel.
So it can't be complicated. It has to work at 7am on a Tuesday and still hold up if someone calls a last-minute meeting. That's the whole brief. Everything in it has earned its place. Nothing here is aspirational. It's all just… used.
Skin first, always
Before any of it — skincare. Every single morning, no exceptions, not even the mornings where I'm already late and can hear someone yelling about a lunchbox.
I have never once skipped it and I'm not about to start, because everything after this only works if the skin underneath is prepped. Makeup on unprepped skin just sits there looking like makeup. Makeup on skin that's been looked after actually behaves. It's also the only part of the ten minutes that's genuinely for me. Everything else is for the day. This bit is mine.
Then, and only then: the Charlotte Tilbury stick. Not everywhere — just the places that give the game away. Around the nose. The bit between my brows that always looks like I'm thinking about something. Then NARS concealer in Custard under the eyes, which is doing a job I will not be discussing publicly.
Both go on with the Makeup by Mario double-ended brush, which is the only brush I own that I actually use. One end for the base, one for the concealer, no swapping, no washing two things. It buffs everything in so it looks like skin rather than product sitting on top of skin. I resisted buying it for about a year on the grounds that I'd just use my fingers. I was wrong. It takes thirty seconds and it's the difference between "she has makeup on" and "she looks well."
Bronzer
Westman Atelier in Au Lait, because I want it to look like I've been somewhere. It goes on like nothing and then somehow I have a face.
It goes on with the Mecca face blender brush — big, fluffy, and I'm aware it's against every recommendation ever made. You're supposed to use something dense and angled and precise. I know. I've watched the videos. I just don't want a sharp edge on my face. I want it to look like light, not like a decision. A fluffy brush diffuses everything and you can't see where it starts, and if that costs me a bit of definition then fine — I'd rather look soft than look contoured. It's my face. I'll do what I like with it.
Then the glow
The Hourglass three-shade highlighter on the days I have an extra ninety seconds and want to feel like a person who does things properly. Which is roughly twice a week.
I use a bronzing brush for it, which is also technically incorrect, and at this point you're sensing a theme. A dedicated highlighter brush lays it down in a stripe. A bronzing brush sweeps it across the top of everything and it just looks like my skin caught the light. Same product, completely different result. Cheekbones, brow bone, down the nose if I'm feeling optimistic about the day.
The bit that does the heavy lifting
Rhode blush in Toast. If I could only keep one thing, it's this. It answers the "did you sleep?" question before anyone asks it. Cheeks, then whatever's left on my fingers goes on my eyelids, which is either a professional makeup technique or something I made up because I was in a hurry. I've stopped investigating.
Eyes
This is where the ten minutes actually go.
Charlotte Tilbury brown eyeliner smudged into the lashes — never a line, just a shadow of one. Then Feline Flick in Super Brown when I want it to look deliberate rather than accidental. Brown, not black, always. Black is a statement and I don't have the energy to back it up before 9am.
And the YSL Lines Liberated eye pencil in plum in the inner corner. Plum, not nude, not white — it warms everything up without announcing itself. Nobody will ever notice it and that's exactly the point. It's the difference between eyes that are open and eyes that are awake.
Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk mascara in black. Curled first. That step matters more than the mascara does and nobody wants to hear it.
Brows
Make Up For Ever, Total Taupe. Brushed up, filled in about as much as a person doing her brows in a moving vehicle can manage.
Lips
Sephora stick in 09. It looks like my mouth, but the version of it that's had eight hours of sleep and a holiday. I own actual lipstick. I wear it for dinners and photos, and I always think I should do this more, and then I don't.
The list
- Charlotte Tilbury stick — base
- NARS concealer in Custard — under eyes, no further questions
- Makeup by Mario double-ended brush — does both, the only brush I use
- Westman Atelier bronzer, Au Lait — the everyday one
- Mecca face blender brush — for the bronzer. Wrong, apparently. Don't care.
- Hourglass 3-shade highlighter — the "I have time today" glow
- A bronzing brush — for the highlighter. Also wrong. Also don't care.
- Rhode blush, Toast — the one I'd repurchase blindfolded
- Charlotte Tilbury brown eyeliner — smudged, never a line
- Charlotte Tilbury Feline Flick, Super Brown — when I want it to look on purpose
- YSL Lines Liberated eye pencil, plum — inner corner, the invisible one that does the most
- Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk mascara, black — curl first, always
- Make Up For Ever Total Taupe — brows
- Sephora stick, 09 — lips
One brush, ten minutes, and a face that can handle a school pickup and a supplier call without changing. I'm not precious about it. But I notice when I skip it — I spend the whole day feeling like I'm running slightly behind myself.
What's the one product you'd repurchase without thinking? I want to know. I'm always looking for a reason to spend money I said I wouldn't.