I have been thinking about beauty lately—not the kind that comes in a jar or hangs on a rack at the department store, but the bigger question of what it means to feel beautiful.
I like beauty products. I like perfume. I like putting on makeup, even when I am staying home all day. I like jewelry and pretty clothes, a fresh manicure, good skincare, and the small transformation that happens when I take a few extra minutes with my hair. I don't think I need to apologize for any of that.
But somewhere along the way, beauty has become something different to me.
When I was younger, beauty seemed to be something you were supposed to achieve. There were standards to meet and flaws to correct. The right weight. The right hair. The right clothes. Smooth skin. White teeth. A youthful face. There was always another little thing suggesting that if I fixed this, I would finally be beautiful enough.
I'm not particularly interested in chasing "enough" anymore.
I Still Want to Look Pretty
Let's get that out of the way.
Growing older hasn't magically made me indifferent to my appearance. I haven't reached some enlightened age where I splash water on my face, pull on whatever happens to be clean, and announce that inner beauty is all that matters.
Nope.
I still enjoy looking pretty.
The difference is that I'm beginning to understand that wanting to look pretty and believing that I must look young are two entirely different things.
I don't need the face I had at 30. I want to take good care of the face I have now.
That changes the conversation.
Skincare becomes care rather than correction. Makeup becomes play rather than camouflage. Clothes become a way of expressing myself instead of disguising myself. Perfume is pure pleasure—a tiny invisible luxury I can carry around all day.
And jewelry? Sometimes a pair of earrings is simply the thing that makes me stand a little taller.
Beauty Is in the Attention
I've also noticed that many of the things I find most beautiful have very little to do with physical perfection.
A beautifully set table.
Flowers clipped from the garden and dropped into a little vase.
A woman wearing a fabulous scarf because she loves it.
A handwritten note.
Fresh sheets.
Lipstick before going to the grocery store.
The smell of someone's signature perfume when she walks past.
A watercolor painting that isn't technically perfect but somehow feels alive.
Maybe beauty isn't perfection at all.
Maybe beauty is attention.
It is noticing something and deciding that it matters enough to care for it.
And perhaps that's why my beauty routines mean more to me now than they did when I was younger. Taking care with my appearance isn't necessarily vanity. Sometimes it is simply one of the ways I pay attention to my life.
The Women I Find Beautiful
When I think about women I consider truly beautiful, very few of them fit some imaginary definition of perfection.
They have laugh lines. Silver hair. Soft bellies. Freckles. Interesting noses. Wrinkles around their mouths from decades of smiling and talking and living.
What makes me notice them is usually something else.
They are interested.
They laugh easily.
They have opinions.
They wear things they love.
They make other people feel welcome.
They are comfortable enough with themselves that you stop evaluating what they look like and start noticing who they are.
That kind of beauty becomes more interesting to me every year.
I'm Still Becoming
That's one reason I called this series Beautifully Becoming.
I don't think we're ever finished.
I'm still figuring out what looks good on me. I'm still trying new skincare products and fragrances. I'm still learning which colors make me feel wonderful and which trends are better admired on someone else.
But I'm also becoming more curious about the woman underneath all of it.
What does she like?
What does she want to wear?
What makes her feel alive?
What has she finally decided she doesn't care about anymore?
Those questions are much more interesting than, "How can I look younger?"
I don't want beauty to become another impossible assignment I've given myself.
I want it to be pleasurable.
I want to put on perfume because I love catching its scent during the day. I want to wear the bracelet instead of saving it. I want to use the expensive moisturizer. I want to paint my toenails in October even if nobody sees them. I want to get dressed on a day when I'm staying home simply because getting dressed changes the way the day feels.
And I want to look in the mirror with a little more kindness.
Not because I've decided appearance doesn't matter.
Because I matter more than my appearance.
Perhaps that is what beauty looks like to me now.
It isn't giving up.
It isn't trying desperately to hold on.
It's taking care of myself while allowing myself to change.
It's appreciating the woman I was, being curious about the woman I'm becoming, and enjoying all the lipstick, perfume, earrings, flowers, laughter, wrinkles, and wonderful little rituals along the way.
And that feels pretty beautiful to me.
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