If you had asked me five years ago what my holy grail beauty product was, I would’ve rattled off a list of at least ten different things—each one “life-changing,” each one that I had convinced myself I needed to have. But here’s the thing: if every new launch is life-changing, then none of them really are. And yet, the beauty industry keeps us in this cycle of overconsumption, feeding us the idea that our current routine is never quite enough.
Walk into Sephora or Ulta today, and it’s not just a shopping experience—it’s an event. Bright packaging, endless new releases, limited-edition drops, celebrity-backed brands, and ingredient trends that seem to change with the seasons. One day it’s niacinamide, the next it’s snail mucin. It’s thrilling but also…exhausting. Somewhere along the way, shopping for beauty products stopped being about what I actually needed and turned into a chaotic game of keeping up.
And let’s be honest, who hasn’t fallen for the hype? A viral product hits my feed, and suddenly, I’m questioning if my perfectly good blush isn’t quite blushy enough or if my serum isn’t giving me the glass skin I didn’t even know I wanted. It’s a cycle. One that we all participate in, even when we know better.
But at some point, I had to take a step back and ask myself—Who am I if I’m not just chasing trends? Do I have thoughts and opinions of my own when it comes to beauty, or am I just adopting whatever TikTok tells me to? That realization hit me hard. So, I started making small changes. And trust me, breaking free from beauty consumerism is not about deprivation—it’s about intention.
Here are five ways I’ve learned to be more mindful about what I buy, how I shop, and what actually deserves a spot in my routine.
The “Do I Even Need This?” Test
Before I buy anything, I ask myself: What category does this fall into? Do I already have something similar?
If I already own a foundation, a bronzer, a pinky-nude lipstick, do I really need another? Makeup and skincare have expiration dates, and if I’m not going to use something regularly enough to finish it before it goes bad, then it’s not a purchase—it’s just clutter.
I’ve learned that if I don’t see myself using a product at least a few times a week, I probably don’t need it. And if I do feel tempted to buy something, I make myself wait at least a month. More often than not, that initial urge fades, and I forget why I even wanted it in the first place. It’s about rewiring my thinking—am I buying this because I truly need it or because I’m caught up in the moment?
The Price vs. Purpose Rule
At this point, if a skincare product is over $30, I need more than just efficacy—I need an experience. If I’m splurging, it’s because I genuinely enjoy the luxury of using it, not because I expect some magical overnight transformation.
The same goes for makeup. If I already have something in that category, in that shade, then the question becomes: Will I use this enough to justify the cost before it expires? If the answer is no, I let it go. Simple as that.
I remind myself that the difference between a $30 product and an $80 one often isn’t the formula—it’s the branding, the packaging, the exclusivity factor. And while there’s nothing wrong with indulging, I want to be aware of when I’m paying for the feeling of luxury versus when I’m paying for actual results.
Trends Should Inspire, Not Pressure
I used to feel like I had to hop onto every trend immediately, but now I remind myself that trends always come back. I don’t need to rush out and buy something just because everyone else is talking about it.
Case in point: the clean-girl aesthetic, latte makeup, coquette beauty—these aren’t new concepts. They’re just rebranded versions of past trends. And if I already own products that can create a similar look, then why would I buy something new just because it has a different label?
It’s easy to feel left out when you’re not constantly updating your collection, but I’ve found that my best beauty purchases happen when I buy based on my preferences, not the internet’s ever-changing standards.
Influencers Should Inform, Not Dictate
I love the beauty community, but let’s be real—its job is to sell. That doesn’t mean reviews aren’t valuable, but the way I consume them has changed. Instead of watching endless hauls and first impressions, I focus on creators whose skin type and makeup preferences align with mine.
More importantly, I ask myself: Does this product actually fit into my routine? Not could it fit, but does it solve a problem I actually have? If I’m justifying a purchase by mentally squeezing it into a routine that already works, then I know it’s not necessary.
I’ve also learned to differentiate between genuine recommendations and strategic marketing. Just because a product is everywhere doesn’t mean it’s life-changing. Sometimes, it just means the marketing budget was really generous.
Find Joy in Using, Not Just Buying
One of the biggest mindset shifts I’ve had is learning to appreciate what I already own. Instead of chasing the next big thing, I’ve started shopping my own collection, rediscovering products I once loved but forgot about in the chaos of new launches.
There’s something really satisfying about actually finishing a product, about knowing I got my money’s worth. And beyond that, it’s made me realize that I don’t need an overflowing vanity to enjoy beauty—I just need a curated collection of things I truly love.
I also remind myself that beauty isn’t just about the products—it’s about how they make me feel.
Reclaiming Beauty on Your Own Terms
At the end of the day, I still love beauty. I love trying new things, experimenting with different looks, and indulging in the occasional luxury. But I also love the clarity that comes with stepping back and making more intentional choices.
Because beauty should feel exciting, not exhausting. And if shopping for makeup and skincare ever starts feeling like a chore, then maybe it’s time to pause and ask yourself: Am I buying this because I love it? Or just because I think I should?
I choose to love beauty on my own terms. What about you?
Love,
Rae
Image Credits - Marie-Amélie Le-Mercier
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