From ‘No’ to Enthusiastic ‘Yes’, How the Indian Woman’s Relationship with Makeup Evolved

In the mid-1980s, the market research agency I worked for was commissioned by the pioneering company Lakme, which brought makeup to Indian women as early as 1952, supposedly at the behest of Jawaharlal Nehru. , who were concerned that Indian women were wasting precious foreign exchange. on cosmetics, and asked Tata to manufacture them in India. The short was to understand how middle- and upper-class urban women thought about using makeup and to find ways to crack the code of a consumer who was proving stubborn in its approach and resistant to marketing input. Was. We went to big metros and small towns like Vijayawada and Varanasi, are desperately looking for ways to increase Lakme’s small revenues.

The study showed a troubled and complicated relationship between Indian women and makeup. In South India it was forbidden to use it at any age and level, but in the North it was made compulsory after marriage. Unmarried girls put on clever makeup and said that they clean their faces before returning home from college or work.

Actors Zeenat Aman and Parveen Babi on the one hand and Smita Patil and Jaya Bhaduri on the other created two poles of “bold” girls and “nice” girls. The often obvious view was that wearing makeup was like wearing a label around your neck that said you wanted to attract the opposite sex. While blush and mascara were considered in the time-honored tradition of makeup, lipstick and eyeliner were not blessed with the same cultural label. Curiosity to use prevailed, but women said that the number of products you can use should be limited so as not to cross the “vamp” or “bold girl” side of the fence. So two things on your face were fine, but applying five — blusher, lipstick, eye shadow, eyeliner and foundation — was considered overdone. The young women we interviewed declared that when boys apparently came for girls with more makeup at parties, they didn’t respect them.

Then there was the whole point of not using makeup and being afraid of being ridiculed, or worse, looking terrible. In focus groups on cooking, if you asked the women to cook a dish, they would all give very specific instructions and there would be a very animated discussion. However, when the topic of discussion was the best way to use eyeliner or blusher, there was an awkward silence in the group and even Ms. Know-it-all (you usually find one in every focus group) confidence. and will introduce it. With the demo, “I don’t know what is the right way or what will work for you, but this is the way it worked for me”.

Based on this, the advertising agency ran a print campaign to talk women out and call for makeup to be ethically pure. The headlines said it all. “Is it bad to look good?” Asked one and argued that it was not. “Does makeup label you fast, loose, or ‘that type’?” There was another title with abundant copy. Then came the educational campaign. “For poetic eyes, a little prose,” was the one who explained the subtle and “correct” way to use eye makeup. The campaign, surprising as it was, didn’t move the needle much and the cosmetic market stuck to the Hindu rate of growth.

Enter the post-liberalisation Indian Digit, a massive army of Indians with direct and indirect digital access, driven by cheap, China-made smartphones and the incredibly low data prices powered by Jio, and dazzled by all the magic of the internet from entertainment to temples. Train ticket for darshan. The rest, as they say, is history. The democratic opportunity to put “out” what you have, no one is going to bark at whatever stuff you want to strut, free content has evolved in leaps and bounds and YouTube channels have let you down on everything. Has exploded telling how to look Aishwarya Rai 14 makeup products to use to make your saree look slimmer and how to achieve smoky “Arabic” eyes, and more. You can do this Google In secrecy and find out how to unwind the power and magic of makeup without being distracted by social judgment. It was this environment that shaped the aesthetics and social and sexual sensibilities of the new Indian woman. Fortunately, Bollywood also moved away from the heroine-vamp stereotype and makeup was no longer good-nosed, just all good.

Mobile phone cameras have ushered in the photo-sharing explosion and looking good is the aspiration of most women. Display photos on WhatsApp is your first impression on the world who knows and doesn’t know you. All of this has moved the cultural label of makeup towards a more global one as a smart aid that helps you best your looks. Of course, as with every Indian, there are hidden rules, and the makeup expected of a decent bride is very different from that of a matriarch. Karva Chauth,

Wedding photographs now have the highest importance at the social level, far more than the rites and customs. Wedding matchmakers, especially those that cater to modest-income clients, have mostly gone online for the initial approval process. It makes a good photo even more important. And now everyone knows that camera lens makeup rewards effort and punishes natural imperfections. If earlier you had to pay a photo studio to get a good picture, now you can experiment with makeup and free selfies to get there. Where there is demand, supply comes in the form of single or small service providers – the makeup lady has now joined the essential cast of a wedding party with Mehndiwali.

Today, young Indian women will say emphatically “no” to questions asked in their campaign by Lakme’s advertising agency in the early 1980s.

Malcolm Gladwell, in his book What the Dog Saw, writes of American women’s transition from Clairol hair dye advertising, stating, “Will she … or not? Only her hairdresser knows for sure, ” for the L’Oréal tagline, “Because I deserve it”. Similarly, from Lakme to Nykaa, makeup and the Indian woman has indeed come a long way.

The author is a market strategy consultant