Performing versus being performative. Two sides of the same instinct, though the latter is considered to be highly undesirable. I object. In style, relinquishing functionality, from designer heels to a hefty jewelry stack, is usually a sign of expensive taste. Young women, still living with naturally high levels of the elasticity holy-grail collagen, are slugging redundantly, having been influenced into 10-step skincare routines by performative TikTokers. Cognizance of aging is starting twenty years early. Guasha, depuffing eye patches, hyaluronic acid, vitamin C, SPF 100,  body butter, body oil, Saltair, Glow Getter, lash serum, lip balm, dark-spot correction cream, red light therapy mask, DON’T FORGET TO EXFOLIATE: Self-care as identity. No child left behind. 

Products are part of aesthetics. Nobody cares if they work for you. At least, I don’t. Performativeness has a place in my skincare. I like fun with my forced constant awareness of my looks, driven by the inescapable botox epidemic and relentless lifestyle dissemination of the hottest women on the net. My cabinet is stocked. Step inside it. 

Unsurprisingly, under eye patches have become the de facto mascot of the flamboyant skincare movement — the so-called “performative eye patch,” promising easy access to instant youth. Critics argue that eye patches are too focused on whimsical product design instead of flattening your face as their popularity has risen, with a variation marketed for every type of problematic eye bag, at every price point, by every beauty company. And it’s true, any product that doesn’t deliver on the dollar wouldn’t get my coins in the Sephora sale, no matter how good they look. 

As someone deeply obsessed with Beauty of Joseon’s iridescent wings for their design and their results, I can attest that a theatrical exterior isn’t always a cover-up for underperformance. The product not only makes me feel like a modern Norma Desmond getting ready for a long day on set, but equally reduces the puffiness and gray lines that seemingly arrived the moment the clock struck 30 years old.

Sure, you can find a similar formula in serum form that you don’t have to sport on your face. But even if the most efficient eye patches could be clowned as superfluous methodology, I quite like the notion of transforming a skin treatment into a fashion statement. Call it accessories with benefits.

Rocking the Dieux logo on the lower lash line during a morning journaling session or a grocery store run is the modern high-maintenance princess’s version of a superhero’s cape. She can do it. Yes, she can, and with pink florals on her face! I’d even support the ladies of Corporate America using them as boardroom armor (doused in Dieux’s glorious depuff serum) if it wouldn’t give boomers a new avocado toast to blame the birth decline on.  

Performative self-care extends beyond external health. The supplemental nutrients in Barrière’s vitamin stickers are an aesthetic option for vitamins instead of the chalky pills or fluorescent tinctures available over the counter. Barrière says that because of their innovative approach, their transdermal patches “can offer up 10x the absorption rate of oral vitamins.” 

While experts are still zeroing in on those numbers, the visual benefit of getting to pick which kitschy little temporary tattoo will adorn my wrist that day feels like science. I don’t need a degree from MIT to understand how the power of cuteness contributes to my commitment to taking my supplements. Much like Elle Woods argued that happy people don’t kill people, adorable vitamins don’t get forgotten in a morning routine. 

Vanity aside, the cherry doodles infusing me with biotin, or dice delivering melatonin before bed, symbolize one kind thing I’ve managed to do for myself that day — a feat that isn’t always easy with a to-do list out the door.  Picking from a variety of designs adds a microdose of the same endorphins that come with styling a killer outfit. If blending exhibitionist personal style into health and wellness is a crime, lock me up in maximalist prison right next to Jane Fonda.   

In fact, I’ve taken the thrill of sticking on a silly skincare solution to new heights. When I rocked my Rhode Spot Wear (the quirky pimple patches collaboratively designed by Hailey with Justin) instead of makeup for casual drinks, my friend asked if I accidentally had something on my face. By the time I finished explaining that the colorful mushroom was there to shrink the red bump ruining my visage ahead of the weekend, they were asking if I had any to share. 

Alerting everyone to an unsightly blemish seems contradictory to the purpose of removing it without a trace. I strongly defend performative skincare, in part, because the patriarchy loves the results of the beauty industry, as well as the mighty dollars from female pockets that fund it. Yet, men can’t stand the thought of being exposed to the unglamorous womanhood that manufactures beauty: hair rollers under bonnets, dried acne cream splotches in the morning, grown out armpit hair before a wax. 

Planet Man mandates that women of all ages rearrange themselves to Western beauty standards in private and return to public spaces effortlessly desirable. Erase the ugly and be quiet while doing it. There’s beauty in the rebellion — a visual protest in forcing society to witness our glow-up instead of being relegated to suffer silently on the road to haute improvement. 

Maybe the benefits of overtly stylish skincare could be disqualified as a placebo effect or worse, unworthy of the price tag their pageantry inflates. But in this economy, I’m willing to let my beauty routine act as one of the few areas of life that’s rose-colored, like the flushed finish from a Rare Beauty Soft Pinch Tinted Lip Oil. Cool as fuck. Never too cool for whimsy.