Bolt from the Blue
Blue eyeshadow is never not having a moment
We may live in the era of no-makeup makeup, but like red lipstick—blue eyeshadow is forever. Don’t believe me? She can do it all, running the gamut from high fashion to 60s glamour to camp. Blue eyeshadow is the banner of the cool girls, the sad girls, the provocateurs, the dreamers. From mid-century archetypes like Barbie’s baby blue frosted shadow and Elizabeth Taylor’s vibrant turquoise makeup in Cleopatra, to contemporary iterations on the sultry lids of Lana Del Ray, Chappell Roan’s overt nods to drag and Divine, or Taylor Swift contemplating burning her life down on the cover of Midnights, blue eyeshadow never seems to drop out of sight. It’s no wonder that Andy Warhol’s Shot Sage Blue Marilyn remains the most famous within his series. Blue eyeshadow really is that girl.
Growing up, I was more likely to curl up with a movie that first hit screens in my mom’s youth rather than something that was trending during mine. A TCM girl through and through, Cleopatra was on frequent rotation. I sat glued to the screen absolutely spellbound for the entirety of the film’s 3h45 minute run-time. I knew nothing about the lore: the revolving door of directors and script rewrites, the flagrant disregard for budget that almost bankrupted 20th Century Fox, the accidental hard launch of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton’s adulterous affair (and their subsequently explosive on-again, off-again relationship). All I had to go on was what I was seeing on the screen.
I fell in love with the film’s epic proportions, gorgeous costumes, and remained seated despite relationship dynamics that befuddled me. I didn’t quite understand why she wanted to be with Julius Caesar (Rex Harrison was old) and the appeal of Burton’s Mark Antony went straight over my head, but Cleopatra was entrancing. Even as a child, I was struck by her arc. She enters the film as an outcast trying to take control of a kingdom, concealed within a rolled up rug to avoid being murdered, and ends the film as an exiled queen rich in agency, choosing her own kind of death. Here was a woman who was not shy about asking for what she wanted—be that power, love, or prophecy—and getting it. On your knees, she commanded; the men kneeled. Was it the power of blue? In almost every scene, the character wore turquoise eyeshadow and black liquid liner, which Taylor applied herself. Instead of washing her out, the whites of her eyes looked whiter; her eyes brighter. After Cleopatra, blue eyeshadow became synonymous with glamour. How could it not?
When I eventually began my exploratory forays into makeup at thirteen, it’s no surprise that the first color I chose was blue. It was a bold, pigmented teal (M.A.C. Gulf Stream, RIP). The girl at the makeup counter showed me how to blend it with a neutral base and apply a reasonable amount of eyeliner. It never looked that good again. There was no translucent wash of color for me. Oh no. I packed it on to make up for the fact that I was saddled with wearing glasses. Could anyone even see it? I should put on some more…I was heavy handed with the kohl pencil, but afraid to get too close to the lashline in case I poked out my eye. The effect was more clown than Cleopatra. Unfortunately this was also the year I got my first passport, my nascent attempts at cool preserved for the next ten years.
Except perhaps for certain stages of bruises or the veiled tangle of veins, humans are not naturally blue. Perhaps that’s what makes wearing it so much fun. By default, it sets its wearer apart, aligning with associations that feel vast and unknowable: sea, sky, deep layers of ice. From another angle, it’s makeup with a capital M: makeup as a mask. It’s loud, wild, bold, yet also carries a playful, ethereal sensibility.
Blue eye shadow screams look at me! and you can’t control me!, making it the stomping ground of coming of age stories and seductresses alike. When it comes to its depictions in pop culture, blue eyeshadow is often a signifier of a woman on the fringe—think Sally Bowles in Cabaret, Anna Karina in Une Femme Est Une Femme, Christina Ricci in Buffalo ‘66, or even PJ Harvey’s mid-90s “Joan Crawford on Acid” stage styling. We see its origins in the music video for “Down By The Water,” Harvey’s tumbling curls, red lips, and blue eyeshadow fringed by false lashes. The look plays into a certain slant on femininity and then subverts it, submerging high glamour underwater with a sinister edge.
It makes you wonder if more innocent depictions of girls donning blue eyeshadow are destined for this same moody ambiguity. Do characters like Moonrise Kingdom’s Suzy Bishop set out on their quests for self-discovery only to find that in doing so, they untether themselves irrevocably from the path in favor of the highs and lows of life on the fringe? Perhaps. Personally, I’d rather be blue than be bored.
Duolingo killed off their mascot last week, signaling a possible rebrand in the works. Luckily Duo left his last will and testament for his estate executors at The New Yorker.
Mike White’s The White Lotus is back with Season 3 and thank god. That said, the new opening theme is a buzz kill. “Renaissance,” forever.
Maybe it’s the impending Venus Retrograde, but I’ve had HAIM’s sophomore album Something To Tell You on repeat.
