After the adrenaline rush of my first show, where I’d impressed the key makeup artist enough for her agent to request me for another gig, I felt invincible. But as I approached the next venue, that thrill quickly twisted into a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
The atmosphere inside was charged with sophistication, a sharp contrast to the last show’s chaos. The air crackled with energy, echoing the urgency of the tasks at hand.
The key artist arrived, her presence commanding instant attention. Her team sprang into action, setting up her station with meticulous precision. “We’re channeling the elegance of Renaissance painters today,” she announced, her voice slicing through the backstage buzz. “Think soft light, natural beauty. We need a look that feels timeless yet fresh.”
I felt a jolt of panic. Renaissance painters? My mind raced, struggling to conjure up any relevant imagery. As her team gathered around to watch her demo, I could see them taking notes, their expressions a mix of awe and focus. I tried to absorb her every move, but the pressure felt suffocating.
She demonstrated with effortless grace, layering products to achieve a luminous finish. “This look needs to feel light,” she emphasised, her tone firm. “It’s about enhancing beauty, not masking it.”
When it was my turn, I grabbed my kit and strapped on MY BELT BUDDY and felt my heart pounding. I focused on creating that radiant, barely-there glow, layering foundation with the softest of my MYKITCO complexion brushes. and added a romantic flush to the cheeks with MY BOUNCE BLENDER. But as I stepped back to assess my work, I noticed the key artist observing me closely, her sharp gaze scrutinising every detail.
“Not quite right,” she said, her voice cold and direct as she approached my model. “This looks too contrived. We need to evoke the feeling of those Renaissance portraits and you're missed the mark.”
A wave of humiliation crashed over me. My model was whisked away, handed off to the key assistant, who wore a look of pity mixed with impatience. What had I missed? I thought I understood the vision, but it was clear I had misread it.
I stood there, crestfallen, feeling like an imposter. This wasn’t just a setback; it was a wake-up call. The key artist moved on, and I felt the weight of her disappointment bearing down. Was this industry too much for me? Was I just a blip in the grand scheme of this creative world?
In that moment, I knew I had to do better. I had to dig deeper into my craft, learn, and grow. The echoes of Renaissance beauty would haunt me, but I was determined to uncover their secrets. I would not let this experience define me; I would rise from the ashes, stronger and more knowledgeable.
