My Mascara Hasn’t Killed Me Yet
From The Mag: My Mascara Hasn’t Killed Me Yet
BY ISABEL RAVENNA
“It’s gotta be here somewhere,” I think to myself as I shuffle through every drawer of my vanity.
In the graveyard of random tampons, combs, bobby pins, loose medication, and mascara-stained eyelash curlers, I finally find it: my favorite — and only — red lipstick. It’s older than some children and I still wear it.
I remember the day we met: I popped into a Sephora and decided to buy an $8 lipstick for the rare occasions I want a bright, bold, red lip… in 2016.
Nine years later, it finally crosses my mind to wonder, “Is this still good?”
It’s no secret that people with ADHD make fiercely loyal friends and partners — sometimes to a fault — but this allegiance doesn’t stop at relationships.
The bond felt with things dedicates many of us to a single product or routine that “feels right.” We often resist change, because once we find the one thing we love, we’re committed long beyond its deteriorating color, scent, or shelf life – or the dictates of polite society.
Take, for instance, my lipstick. Or literally any other product in my makeup drawer.
My momentary reflection on its viability is probably the result of having recently gone down a late-night rabbit hole of “Clean Girl Makeup,” “Makeup Bag Decluttering” and “How To Wash Your Makeup Brushes” TikToks — and realizing that I haven’t done any of that in about… ever.
And not without attempts. Once, I put all my old makeup in a bag labeled “expired??” and immediately forgot about it. Another time, I set an alarm to clean my brushes every other Sunday. I snoozed it for 27 weeks before deleting it altogether.
I’ve bought every “miracle product” that swore to keep my makeup organized. But ironically, they’ve all become part of the clutter themselves; I end up needing organizers for my organizers. A new box, a new system, a new lipstick — none of which I’ll actually stick to. Because no matter how many times I try to Marie Kondo my beauty stash, I’ll always find a reason that this product still sparks joy. Or guilt. Or memory. Or a “what if.”
My neurotypical friends seem to have a fresh collection of makeup each time I borrow a lip gloss. Their makeup bags are always cleaner than my car, they actually clean their brushes, and they never complain about their foundation turning a weird color that no longer matches their skin tone.
Me? I’m still scraping out the last of the Sephora lipstick that expired somewhere around 7 years ago.
But I swear most of my products are immortal. That one Urban Decay pallet that’s been sitting under my bathroom sink since 8th grade? I might need it someday! After all, I have used it since middle school… about 4 times.
Yes, I know that the recommended shelf life for powder eyeshadow is technically 12 to 24 months, and that old makeup can grow bacteria, trigger breakouts and even cause infections (I too have seen those terrifying Snapchat articles about the woman whose infection was so bad she couldn’t open her eyes). But unless it smells like glue or crumbles into dust, it passes my test.
Besides, it’s not like I never buy new makeup. Eventually, my mascara gets too clumpy to ignore and I’ll finally swap it out.
And sometimes — more often than I’d like to admit — I find myself in bed at 2 a.m., thumb hovering over “Buy Now,” imagining myself becoming a whole new person with a single swipe of a new cream blush.
And sometimes — more often than I’d like to admit — I find myself in bed at 2 a.m., thumb hovering over “Buy Now,” imagining myself becoming a whole new person with a single swipe of a new cream blush.
Add to cart. Done. Now I can sleep.
And when it arrives, I can’t wait to try it out. I rip the package open, swatch it on my hand like a beauty guru, hold it up in different lighting, marvel at the texture. I might even wear it for a selfie or a random day that I did my makeup just to feel alive.
But then the rush quiets. I set it down, meaning to reach for it again tomorrow… and somehow, tomorrow never comes.
The high fades fast. But the lipstick? That sticks around.
The items that don’t make the cut into my coveted routine serve an indefinite sentence in the graveyard drawer — a place where expired products go, not to die, but to await reincarnation. Though some probably should die there — like the foundations and concealers I bought to shade-match my eventual summer tan, a waiting period that allowed them to expire before their moment ever arrived.
When I do find a product I’m obsessed with, I use it until I hit the pan. I still remember the day I found out Glossier was changing the formula of their famous “Balm Dot Com” lip balm. My heart dropped. The panic set in fast — what if the new version didn’t smell the same? What if it didn’t feel the same? I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
So, I didn’t. I stretched the ones I had left for as long as humanly possible, despite their suggested shelf life of 18 months.
Because when I find something that feels right — the scent, the texture, the way it makes me feel like myself (but better) — I hold on tight. Not just out of habit, but out of comfort — for my identity. I don’t want a better product. I want the one that’s my signature. If I let it go, will I even feel like myself again?
Back at my vanity, I put on my favorite red lipstick — because I know what I want to look like and I know what product will make it happen. And at the end of the day,
for people with ADHD, beauty isn’t about perfection or expiration — it’s about memory, joy, and what makes us feel like ourselves.
My mascara might be ancient, but so is my emotional attachment to it — and neither have killed me yet.
BIO: Isabel Ravenna is a culture journalist whose work appears in National Geographic, Complex, Business Insider, and others. She also writes The Ravenna Report, a weekly newsletter of sharp cultural analysis, overlooked history, and personal insight.
