Kristen Noel Crawley would like to reintroduce herself.

Crawley, formerly a model for clothing retailer American Apparel and a jewellery designer, was one of the first beauty influencers to expand into product with the launch of her brand KNC Beauty in 2016. It was a boom time for direct-to-consumer beauty labels. She plugged the brand on Instagram, at the nucleus of the digital beauty conversation, and a platform where she already had hundreds of thousands of followers. Beginning with a single product, a lip mask coated in an “all natural” moisturising serum, she was able to capitalise on the mid-2010s popularity for sheet masks and obsession with super-plump lips.

But while it started with a bang, KNC Beauty has remained small and independent, with only a handful of launches and limited wholesale distribution. Crawley said that personal matters — a new baby, a cross-country move — claimed some of her focus. Annual sales, which hit around $1 million by 2020, have more or less stayed there since.

Recently, Crawley has decided to turn the page. She plans to double her current product offering — with a reusable eye mask and serum duo, a set of cryotherapy sticks (tools that harness cold temperatures to soothe the skin) and a foray into lip glosses — and usher the brand into a new stage of growth. Her goals include securing cash investment, amplifying her brand’s visibility, and landing a blue-chip wholesale partner like Target or Ulta Beauty.

“I’m back to business now,” she said. “The golden age of Instagram beauty, that 2015 to 2020 era, I’d love to get my brand back in that position.”

But that golden age is over, and Crawley will have to reckon with a completely different landscape for selling beauty products online — one that she admittedly isn’t as well-versed in. “I’m still trying to figure out TikTok,” she said.

Added competition from A-list celebrities and makeup artists and a dizzyingly rapid beauty trend cycle represent hurdles. But Crawley believes KNC can overcome the odds, in part by returning to the brand’s best asset: Herself.

Street Smart

It’s common enough today for celebrities, influencers, and beauty editors to start minting cosmetics indiscriminately, but in 2016, Crawley was a triple threat.

Born and raised in Chicago, Crawley found an entry into the world of celebrity after she and her husband, the designer Don Crawley, opened RSVP Gallery with Off-White founder Virgil Abloh in the city’s West Loop. The connection to Abloh and later, Ye, the artist formerly known as Kanye West placed Crawley in the Kardashian orbit, which helped raise her own profile at a time when Instagram was taking off. She gained industry recognition, too: In 2015, she was tapped by Julie Schott, the co-founder of acne sticker brand Starface who was then a beauty editor at Elle, to write a column called “KNC Beauty Crush.”

Crawley discovered the concept of the lip sheet mask while on a press trip in Tokyo; KNC Beauty was the byproduct of her attempt to reverse-engineer the mask with “all natural” ingredients. The launch timing was serendipitous: At the time, lips crowded the beauty conversation, thanks in large part to Kylie Jenner’s viral “lip kits” and speculation over her use of filler. In 2016, the category grew over 13 percent, according to a survey conducted by cosmetics conglomerate L’Oréal.

Its cartoonish appearance was made for Instagram. The product was a quick hit, earning KNC Beauty an early supporter in Cassandra Grey, whose influential beauty retailer Violet Grey has stocked KNC Beauty since launch. Grey included KNC’s lip mask in a mailer she sent out to artists during award show season, which is how it wound up on Emma Stone’s face — and her makeup artist’s Instagram — shortly before she won the Golden Globe for “La La Land”.

Cute and quirky product design became the brand’s signature. In 2018, KNC debuted its Star eye masks made with a retinol alternative. While under-eye masks were starting to trend, the shooting star shape of KNC’s version was optimised for selfie photography.

“I knew I couldn’t pay people to post,” Crawley said. “So I thought about, besides formulation, efficacy, what can I do to make my product stand out?” To date, the Star eye masks are the brand’s highest-selling SKU.

Crawley’s point of view has been at the centre of the brand, part of the reasons why she’s kept her product assortment small and stuck with niche collaborative partners, like streetwear event ComplexCon, where she launched her “Self-Care” reusable eye masks, and smaller-footprint retailers like Cos Bar and Violet Grey. She refers to her customer as “the girl who wears Jordans with Chanel.”

KNC Beauty has what Cassandra Grey considered “legacy brand material.” “Kristen is just born-this-way cool,” the Violet Grey founder wrote.

But KNC is only one of a few legacy brands Crawley promotes on her Instagram, where she also partners with companies like Revlon and Dior. Crawley has a higher rate of engagement compared to those with similarly sized followings, according to an analysis from the influencer marketing firm Billion Dollar Boy. “Her sponsored posts perform well, sometimes better than her personal content — which is a great sign for brands wanting to collaborate,” said Andrea Ahern, senior vice president and head of accounts at Billion Dollar Boy.

A Star Is Born

Since KNC Beauty’s 2016 launch, other the success of influencer-led brands has been a mixed bag. Influencer Susan Yara’s skincare brand Naturium, born out of an accelerator, was acquired by E.l.f. Beauty for $355 in 2023. Meanwhile, TikTok-turned-pop star Addison Rae’s ill-timed makeup line Item Beauty went on an indefinite pause two years after its debut.

And while Crawley’s business was well suited to the Instagram age, which operated at the speed of a leisurely scroll, the brand has struggled to keep pace with the churn of TikTok, where virality can blow through an unsuspecting brand’s inventory in moments. When KNC’s monstera leaf-shaped eye masks went viral earlier this year, it took nearly eight months to get them back in stock.

This was a new problem for KNC Beauty, even if it was also kind of a champagne one. “You make all these sales from going viral,” Crawley said, “And then you wait months and months to restock your best-selling products.”

Maintaining steady distribution and a tight product assortment has helped keep KNC’s brand identity intact, but it’s also strapped its growth, Crawley acknowledged. Today, the brand is stocked in over 150 stores across North America, including a number of boutiques, but Crawley expressed her desire to ink a bigger box wholesale partner in 2025.

The brand may also benefit from getting in front of consumers who weren’t around on Instagram in the 2010s. A platform like TikTok Shop could help KNC “access to that Gen-Z audience that she hasn’t tapped into yet, because she’s targeting me, who shops at Net-a-Porter,” Ahern said.

KNC is also expanding its product lineup to meet current trends. The lip market continues to bloom, with growth rates reported between 7 and 12 percent thanks to product extensions. Crawley wants to keep the brand’s focus tight, and will be continuing to focus on eye and lips. More eye masks, a lip scrub, and a lip gloss are forthcoming.

Crawley also wants to grow her team — and is hoping to take on investment to do so. Still, she intends to remain fully in the drivers’ seat.

“There’ve been a lot of people that have come in and tried to tell me what to do, and I feel like because I know myself, my brand, and that I have the best intuition,” she said. “But I’m always open to ideas.”

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Reome, a UK-based biotechnical skincare label founded in 2023, announced Monday that it raised over £1.1 million ($1.4 million) in an initial fundraising round led by Rianta Capital, the family office of New Look store founder Tom Singh, which has also invested in suncare brand Hello Sunday.

The funding will allow the 18-month-old brand to expand its product offerings, wholesale distribution, and direct-to-consumer business, as well as facilitate partnerships with biotech laboratories to create new ingredients. The brand currently offers three SKUs with a pipeline of 21 additional products. The next launch, a new formula created with the L’Oréal-backed and US-based biotech lab Debut, is slated for January 2025.

”I often say to investors, I may not be a seasoned entrepreneur with 20 failed businesses behind me, but what I do know is beauty,” said founder Joanna Ellner, who started her career as a beauty editor and later worked as a consultant for companies including L’Oréal and Unilever. “I know what constitutes a trend versus a sea change in the industry.”

Reome sits at at the centre of the prestige skincare and biotechnology markets, with the latter looking increasingly attractive to investors as growth in the former slows down. Ellner believes that biotechnology’s potential in beauty “is very misunderstood, both by the industry and the consumer.”

”The real challenge and opportunity for Reome is to lead that conversation,” she added.

Ellner previously raised a friends and family round worth £100,000 ($130,000) before the brand’s launch in January 2023 with a single SKU — a “broth” made with bio-fermented ingredients — and a six-month exclusive deal with luxury beauty boutique Space NK. Reome then launched its own e-commerce platform before then expanded to shelves at Moda Operandi and Formula Fig in North America.

In 2025, the brand hopes to beef up its wholesale presence in Europe, Australia, and the United States.

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Learn more:

How Bootstrapped Beauty Brands Are Growing

As the beauty industry has grown in value and saturation, emerging brands have often leaned on outside investment to grow. But for those who don’t want — or can’t access — external funding, a more roundabout path is needed.

After debuting a full-page ad in yesterday’s New York Times, beauty brand Glossier has begun a billboard and digital campaign targeting swing state voters that will run from Oct. 14 until Election Day.

The ads depict a sliver of wet cleavage accompanied by the text “Vote for you” and a voter registration link, gently tying in the brand’s best-selling fragrance collection You, which recently launched two new scents. They’ll run on billboards, mass transit and college campuses in Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin.

”Our hope is to draw attention to what’s at stake in this election and drive important conversations across our community and far beyond it, including among voters in key swing states,” Glossier chief marketing officer Kleo Mack told The Business of Beauty.

While the content of the ads are not explicitly partisan, they are a part of a larger political, progressive-leaning push the 10 year-old brand has made recently, largely focused on reproductive rights. The brand has also announced donations to Ignite National, an organisation focused on training young women to run for public office, and Reproductive Freedom for All, the non-profit formerly known as NARAL. Representatives from Ignite will also visit Glossier retail stores to help convert shoppers into voters.

“We’re building on our previous efforts,” Mack added, “and taking a bolder stance.”

During this year’s WNBA playoffs, pink digital banners with the message “Register to Vote” will beam courtside, and every Glossier order from now until Election Day includes a Vote 2024 sticker.

Like other Millennial-focused beauty and fashion companies, Glossier began to engage with political issues following the 2016 Presidential election. In 2020, the brand launched a grant program for Black-owned beauty businesses, which it maintains today. Before the 2022 Midterm elections, Glossier hosted an event at its LA store where the pop singer Olivia Rodrigo appeared and urged fans to register, wearing a tank top bejewelled with the word “Vote.”

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Learn more:

Amid Black Beauty Brand Closures, Glossier Ups Financial Support

Two of the brand’s previous grantees — The Established and Ceylon — which each received a $50,000 infusion from Glossier just years ago, are closing their businesses due to a rough financial climate. With fresh injections of capital, the beauty label is hoping it can help others avoid the same fate.

Disclosure: Brennan Kilbane worked at Glossier from 2015 to 2017.

These days, if you want to sell skincare, you need the claims to back it up.

Claims purport what exactly a product can or should do for the wearer’s skin — the way Tatcha, for instance, says its Dewy Skin cream “instantly plumps with 3x hydration and a dewy glow” or how Drunk Elephant states that its C-Firma Fresh Day serum “noticeably diminishes the appearance of signs of ageing and photodamage.” Usually backed by a clinical study, they “lend [products] an aura of credibility,” said Liz Whitman, a beauty executive who launched a “clinical-grade” skincare brand called Exponent, and are meant to give shoppers an informed reason to click purchase.

They’re especially important today, when beauty consumers are more aware of the ingredients in their skincare than ever before; they want efficacious products, and with that, brands are finding ways to convince customers that their offerings measure up. About 92 percent of consumers say results are their primary motivation for making a skincare purchase, according to figures from Circana.

Where these claims come from, however, is more complicated. They predominantly originate from an invisible constellation of third-party manufacturers, who will perform the tests and produce the white papers as a B2B service. But there is no set standard for efficacy testing, which means that many tests end up with small sample sizes, are done in a short amount of time, and may not include no human subjects at all. When claims can be generated for a couple thousand dollars, brands are less than incentivised to conduct clinical trials, which provide the best results, but the cost of which can stretch into the low six figures.

But the distinction between claims that are backed by cheaply-done studies, and those substantiated with more expensive, rigorous clinical data isn’t always clear, particularly to those they’re intended for.

“Consumers aren’t aware of the differences. It’s not their fault, I’m sure they would, but it’s just all so designed to be confusing,” said Whitman.

A decade ago, it was unimaginable that so many consumers would understand the difference between alpha and beta hydroxy acids. Soon, the smart beauty shopper may demand more from their claims, too. Brands today must navigate how they can put out data they can stand behind while minding the realities of their budget.

What sorts of tests do beauty brands conduct to get claims — and how much do they cost?

The cost of a study depends on many factors: how long it takes, how many people in the sample size, what sort of experts are involved and how they’re measuring the impact on the skin. The intended audience also matters — is it for mature skin, or for newborns? — and the desired result — does it hydrate, or brighten? — until a specific plan is in place. It’s relatively easy to see improvements in skin hydration, for instance, explained Julian Sass, a PhD and cosmetic chemist based in Montréal, while hyperpigmentation is harder to measure.

Sass frequently consults with brands big and small during what he calls the “substantiation process,” and admitted that “a lot of brands won’t do these tests because they’re expensive.” He begins by asking clients, “What do you want to be able to say?” Then he’ll present a range of options tiered by price.

At the highest end, there are clinical studies, which rely on expert supervision and span weeks of observation. For ironclad independent claims on a wrinkle cream, Sass recently worked on a trial of a single product that cost a brand around $80,000. Whitman said that a 4-week clinical test on 30 subjects with before and after pictures cost about $25,000 per SKU; she tested five. They’re undeniably the most valuable for brands and consumers, but because of that cost, they’re less popular. When Whitman surveyed 500 “top-selling, performance-driven” skincare products, she found that less than 20 percent were supported by clinical claims.

Instead, most brands choose to lean on consumer perception studies, which Sass said are “table stakes” in the industry. These studies rely on the reports of consumer testers, and can be performed for less than $10,000 — but are the most susceptible to bias.

“I mostly use these for claims that are not really scientific,” said Sara Jakaj, an efficacy studies specialist for the UK-based testing firm CE Way. “For example, the client wants to claim shiny hair. It’s not something that can be measured.” CE Way doesn’t conduct clinicals, in part because they take too long.

Jakaj will receive samples of a product, cast 20 participants, and take biophysical measurements on qualities like skin’s moisture level before and after the period, for about €1,500 (about $1,700). Some brands may economise by forming sample groups from engaged audience members.

How can brands decide what tests are worth it for them?

The lack of a uniform system means that brands are running all sorts of different tests, and can claim results even if their test is more limited. If a sample size, for example, is limited to a small number of people, that’s usually only disclosed in small print next to an asterisk at the bottom of a webpage.

One brand Sass worked with, for instance, had a “really quick turnaround” timeline of just a few weeks for a clinical test. They did an in vitro study, where a product is observed for a few days in a laboratory to glean information about how it performs on skin, rather than tested on individuals who report back their findings. Sometimes, claims simply rely on tests done on raw ingredients, rather than engaging a new test of their individual product. (“Contains rareberry, clinically proven to…”)

The variety of options and lack of a set standard means that it’s relatively easy for brands to get away with cheaping out on studies. But strong claims are especially useful for smaller brands, who may need to do more to prove their mettle.

Eric Hill, a business development manager who covers health and beauty testing for UL Solutions, has seen the importance of claims rise, especially as consumers move away from megabrands to patronise indie labels. “People have much more willingness to trust in [new brands] than they used to,” said Hill. That is, if they can secure that trust.

For this reason, startups are finding tests to be a worthy investment. Tower28 performed multiple tests to support its collection-wide claim that it’s suited for sensitive skin — the reason founder Amy Liu launched the brand in the first place.

“The thing that matters the most is that your product lives up to the expectation that you’re setting for it,” Liu said. Still, to keep costs manageable, Liu cut a deal with a tester to keep her costs for each in the low five figures.

A legacy brand like L’Oréal-owned CeraVe, meanwhile, has more resources and as such, “every test plan is tailored to each product,” explained Nada Baalbaki, global scientific director for CeraVe. But even they tap third-party help: CeraVe works with a contract research organisations like RBC Consultants, which provides data to several brands under the L’Oréal Dermatologic Group umbrella.

At the end of the day, it’s all in service of proving that a particular product delivers on its promise.

“I’ve tried so many peptide creams,” Sass said wearily, of the trendy plumping ingredient. “Now, I don’t buy them unless they have clinical results.”

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All is not as it seems at Majesty’s Pleasure.

It’s clear from the moment the elevator doors open into a space that looks like an expansive bar lavishly styled after the scallop from which Venus was born — only it offers beauty services, not meals.

“I like to say we’re a restaurant that serves nails,” said Teri Little, a manicurist and manager at Majesty’s. (They do, however, also provide clients with drinks and snacks.)

Majesty’s Pleasure describes itself as “New York’s first social beauty club.” What looks like a dining room is actually 50 manicure-pedicure stations, served by a grand cocktail bar. “It feels like a more contemporary Wing,” said Katie Van Brunt, a guest at Majesty’s Pleasure opening party on Tuesday evening, referring to the ill-fated co-working space of the “Girl Boss” era. Another guest, the stylist Douglas Wright called it an “urban chic oasis.”

The space, which occupies the second floor of a building just off Park Avenue South, is Majesty’s third location. The first two opened as Her Majesty’s Pleasure in Toronto in 2014, where founders Jeff Armstrong and Sara Kardan, partners in life and business, are based. (They’ve since dropped the “her”, a nod to the British monarchy, from the name.) When looking for their first New York location, the pair put in nearly 15 offers on spaces in lower Manhattan and western Brooklyn before settling in central Flatiron.

“It’s a tough city to get a deal done,” Armstrong, a former investment banker, said.

They’re in good company, as the neighbourhood has become something of a destination for beauty hot spots. Within three blocks of Union Square, one has the choice of longtime local Rescue Spa, which touts Biologique Recherche facials; Remedy Place, which opened in 2022 and provides acupuncture and vitamin IVs; and The Well, which arrived in 2019 and has all of the above.

But as its name suggests, Majesty’s Pleasure wants to be a bit more decadent than its competitors. For one: It’s a social club, not strictly a member’s one, meaning that anyone can come in and pay for its services. About a fourth of clients opt to join the “Leisure Club”, a tiered subscription that grants them between one to unlimited manicures and pedicures per month.

“Eventually, we want to be all members,” said Kardan. “That’s the dream.”

The New York location currently provides a range of manicure-pedicure services, and this fall will also add hair styling, facials, and access to an exclusive corridor known as the Leisure Lounge, where guests can receive simultaneous nail, lash, brow, or skin services without leaving a reclining chair.

“We’re very anti-salon in our design,” explained Kardan, whose background is in interiors and architecture. Guests are first greeted by a concierge, who Armstrong likens to a host or waiter. Used tools are whisked away, sterilised, and replaced. The nail polishes are tucked into walls of milk-white drawers. “Everything is hidden,” she added.

A Polished Model

Spas are a relatively small (around $100 billion) business beneath the greater wellness umbrella (worth 6 trillion dollars, according to the Global Wellness Institute). Most make their money with premium-priced services like massages and facials. The International Spa Association reported that in 2024, revenue-per-visit averaged around $117; Armstrong estimates that the average guest at Majesty’s spends closer to $150. A gel manicure costs $65, more affordable than 60 minutes of bodywork at nearby The Well, which could cost between $200 to $400. It also has an array of bites and cocktails, like the $19 tequila-based Cotton Candy Skies, as well as stackable beauty services help to make the experience more valuable for all parties involved.

Most Majesty’s Pleasure guests belong to one of a few segments: individuals looking to treat themselves and feel connected to something that’s pleasurable,” Armstrong said, as well as “tribes,” who come in celebratory groups — think a 40th birthday or book club outing. About a tenth of their business comes from events, like beauty companies hosting product launches.

Majesty’s Pleasure’s first locations in Toronto were self-funded; Armstrong and Kardan bootstrapped the business by renting their home and cutting back on expenses. When the pandemic arrived in Canada, they pivoted to selling gift baskets of wine and face masks. Then they got an email from a longtime client who happened to be a real estate investor. Armstrong recalls him writing, “‘There’s a reason why you’re not expanding,’” he wrote, according to Armstrong. “‘Is it a capital reason? I can help.’”

The gesture was “the last thing we expected,” said Kardan, but it helped to fuel their entry into the United States. They hope to secure two more leases by year’s end, and break ground on three more Majesty’s Pleasures in 2025, with eyes set toward Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington, DC and Dallas.

Despite the competition in the area, Majesty’s Pleasure believes it has created an entirely new hospitality business model. The initial reaction indicates they could be right.

“It feels like you’re in a hotel,” said Jannely Espinal, a writer for NBC’s Shop Today. “I love nails.” Hers were modified French manicure with black tips, which she clinked against her wine glass. “And I love a drink!”

Beauty writing is nice work, if you’re lucky enough to get it.

Last year saw a peak in media industry layoffs — sister years include 2008 and 2020 — but 2024 is already shaping up to reach new heights. The other beauty writers I used to see around town, where we’d wear our workplace titles like armour, have increasingly gone freelance.

It’s not just us. Tech writers, culture writers, TV writers; no beat is safe. It feels at times like the roof is falling, and we’re scrambling for some place to hide and, hopefully, wait it out.

Substack is a safe place. So is Ghost, or Beehiiv, or any other one-stop-shop paid newsletter platform under whose umbrella writers can not only find refuge but a steady income, too.

“Essentially it’s an opportunity to create another revenue source doing what writers do — write,” said Erica Metzger, who has published the newsletter The Beauty Loop since 2019. In the process, these writers and platforms are also redefining the editorial landscape — the voices that critique, comment and expand upon the billion dollar beauty industry.

Are there too many newsletters? Almost certainly yes. And yet, after a few weeks of bringing up the topic in nearly every semi-relevant conversation I have had the pleasure of having, it’s hard not to notice that a lot of people love the newsletter deluge. The rest work at publications. The side eyes feel genetically related to those cast a decade ago by magazine folk whose fashion show seating assignments had been upset by Blogspot power users. We know it can be demoralising to anybody who has spent years or more in service of a hierarchy to watch others be vaulted past them with no brand name to fall on, because we all watched “The Gilded Age.”

Substack can be a fast vehicle, and a well-read one can turn anyone with a voice into a tastemaker. Laura Reilly was a fashion and beauty e-commerce writer-turned-permalancer when she launched her shopping-forward newsletter Magasin, in 2021. Today, it has around 23,000 paid subscribers. (“It’s pronounced ‘magazine,’ but it’s spelled in the French way that you say ‘store,’” she explained to Into the Gloss.)

Are there too many beauty newsletters? Almost certainly not: Substack lumps them into its broader “fashion and beauty” category, where, of the top 50 stacks, only three are themed to cosmetics exclusively or centrally. Beauty is “not a saturated space yet,” said Jessica DeFino, whose newsletter is number three on the list — after Joanna Goddard’s but before Leandra Medine Cohen’s. A former beauty editor at The Zoe Report, DeFino started her newsletter in May 2020, in an effort to self-publish stories in the wake of frozen freelance budgets; she called it “The Unpublishable.”

One of her first reports, on the lack of diversity in nail polish advertisements — “Where Are All The Brown Hands?” — is a representative example of her work, which takes a critical and intersectional look at the systems that make up the contemporary beauty industry. With the newsletter, she’d found her form; this month, DeFino relaunched The Unpublishable as the glossier-titled The Beauty Review.

“You take advertisers out of the equation, you take affiliate sales out of the equation, and what lies on the other side of that is just like a much richer discussion and exploration of beauty,” she said.

Anita Bhagwandas, who writes The Power Room, agreed: “You can’t always hold those not-great aspects of beauty, or the systems of oppression that operate within beauty, to account in traditional media.”

As a freelancer, DeFino may have made $40,000 in a good year. Now, she makes six figures from her Substack subscriptions. Even more valuable, she’s made a name for herself. Now, the outlets that passed on her stories reach out to her regularly. She usually says no. “I make more money per word writing for myself, and have more fun doing it.”

Call the authorities on the Substacks, and who will show up? Those who used to preside over product recommendations and how-to service for national magazines — Allure’s former editor-in-chief Michelle Lee and O’s former beauty director Val Monroe — have turned to email to preach directly to the masses. An ad could take months to convince a person to try a new foundation, while a newsletter serves in the manner of a greased ice luge down the purchase funnel. In Reilly’s Magasin, recommendations are cast in the voice of a funny friend whose taste you find irresistible, but they also come surrounded by news and diaries, and regularly — sometimes four letters in a week.

“Big picture, my income is greater now than it was when I worked in-house,” Reilly told me.

Imitators hoping to create their own Magasins tend to lean too heavily on the product recommendations and personal shopping edits. Certainly these resonate with audiences, who may follow a beauty writer long after they’ve left their job of beauty writing. But are they worth paying for when most are shilling the same things?

A half-decent newsletter is a heavy sword, and not many can hack it. Those that can offer content of bona fide value, be it thoughtful critique or original reporting, or those who can turn their shopping lists into candy, are most likely to thrive.

“It brings me back to the original days of blogging,” a VP at a communications firm told me, particularly in how brands and companies are now looking to individual contributors for launch exclusives and on-the-record conversations over traditional outlets, who have no choice but to double-down on newsletters.

New York Magazine’s The Cut syndicates Monroe’s “How To Not F*ck Up Your Face”, Red has syndicated Bhagwandas’ The Power Room, and Bhagwandas and DeFino both contribute to The Guardian.

Newsletters can be corporate watchdogs, and they can also be corporate tools. When Metzger started The Beauty Loop, the only other such industry-focused publication was called Media Intel, run by the publicist Jaime Maser. (Maser’s might be the longest running beauty newsletter in digital history — she started charging for it in 2016, the year before Substack launched) Using Memberful for subscriptions and Mailchimp for content, Metzger has styled her newsletter as an industry-wide resource, and charges accordingly; up to $600 for mid- to large-sized beauty press corps, though she writes a free letter for journalists and writers.

“My focus was simply building an audience and providing essential and useful information to assist our jobs,” she said. “Which keep getting harder.” Metzger will also partner with brands or agencies to run ads, classifieds or collect research.

All of this would be of little consequence if major outlets weren’t withering in inverse proportion. Publishers like Condé Nast are plagued by layoffs, and are scraping their beauty teams clean; digital bastions like Refinery29 are simply powering off. The irony of Into the Gloss interviewing Reilly on the occasion of one of the site’s relaunches is that it exemplifies a taste shift away from websites and into inboxes.

“I think the newsletter format can push the beauty media forward in terms of proving what readers want, which is not TikTok trend coverage.” DeFino told me. “Beauty readers are smarter than that, they want better than that, they deserve better than that.” They’re willing to pay for it, too.

It is generally understood that the makeup artist Dame Patricia McGrath, of New York via Northhampton, is the greatest living practitioner of the form. In the future, when a temple is erected to the cosmeticians of our time, McGrath’s shrine will be appropriately outsized, and a site of its own pilgrimage; the Holy Mutha, to whom we pray.

There are few aspects of the cosmetic industry in which McGrath doesn’t excel. She has had a hand in creating some of the best-selling cosmetics in existence, from Giorgio Armani Luminous Silk Foundation to Diorshow Mascara, while painting directly on the future’s face. In the bare-faced 90s, Pat said: Let there be yellow eyebrows. Before “Euphoria” makeup, she gave us euphoria makeup. It was inevitable that her own cosmetics line would upend the industry when it arrived. And when Pat McGrath Labs debuted, at Paris Fashion Week in 2015, it was both Patly impractical — a gold pigment which foiled on skin with a melty mixing medium — and clearly ahead of its time.

Recently, McGrath went viral again. John Galliano’s Margiela couture show in Paris was roundly applauded for almost every aspect of its production, which featured ghostly dolls haunting under a bridge. But it was McGrath’s makeup, which shellacked each model’s painted face in a shell of pure gloss, which was singled out for some of the most rapturous praise.

There was a brief and breathless craze. For days, my Instagram feed was an interminable scroll of endless angles of Gwendoline Christie sauntering, with a tulle body and plastic face. I sent it to a friend and asked: “Liquid latex???” She responded: “Or new Pat prod?” with the preening eyes emoji. After the show, tutorials on TikTok threatening to lay bare the #margielamakeup look were viewed almost 50 million times.

Nobody expected a beauty story to dominate the couture season, especially not beauty editors, who have seen a slow waning of interest in runway beauty stories, and apparently not Pat McGrath Labs, who seem like they really didn’t see her big moment coming, either.

When McGrath announced that Pat McGrath Labs had scheduled a Live masterclass amid the social media moment, it was as clear as glass skin that a new product was forthcoming. “I even have a surprise or two!” said McGrath. During the Live, McGrath revealed that the look had been less of a hero product and more a science project, the result of some off-label theatrical glam (Illustrator Clear Gloss, plus a few peel off masks, distilled water, and an airbrush gun). Her audience was grateful — we are always grateful to Mother — but it was possible to hear a quiet murmur of disappointment: so, wait… no Pat McGrath Labs Face Gloss?

Not too long ago, people were interested in what was happening on the runway above the neckline. Big beauty sponsors like Maybelline used to hide next-season launches in the kits of their key artists, hoping that a cruising beauty editor might notice. They’d also invite a certain number of press backstage to interview those artists.

I have done a few of these, and it has almost always been a demoralising experience. Fashion Week can be glamorous and even fun if you’re invited to attend it, and it can be backbreaking and even worse to work in the heat of it. It can be a third and empty thing to swoop in and out on behalf of a makeup sponsor. Certainly a great deal of artistry is occuring at these events, and it’s possible to bask in that glow for a moment, until you realise that you are probably in the way of it.

What’s worse was a feeling that, even when we got into the great show, even when we got the great interview with the great beauty tip, the beauty-loving population had already ceased to care; they saw it on an Instagram video and have moved on.

This season has already seen some newfangled approaches to beauty marketing. Perhaps in an effort to cut down on backstage press traffic, MAC hosted a masterclass with the artist Terry Barber on Zoom, where he explained a few salient trends of the season — pearl skin, blue eyeshadow, and “naughty” shades of cranberry. Dyson launched its hairdryer spontaneously, and conspicuously, on the first day of the shows in New York. It’s called the Supersonic r because it looks like a purple lowercase r. “These just showed up,” my hairstylist at Spoke and Weal told me, turning it over in her palm.

So you will have to forgive me for seeing Gwendolyn Christine and smelling, as I am trained to do, some savvy marketing. We may yet see a glass skin product in the works — and after the public response to Margiela, one can only assume that a launch calendar was reshuffled. But for now, it seems that what we have witnessed is merely some Pat McGrath-brand artistic genius, and not the kind you can buy. All the more beautiful, I think. Fashion Week is as much about art as it is commerce, the two as often in harmony as they are in discord, but still; it’s nice to notice fewer billboards in the museum.