Beauty & Becoming: When I Stopped Doing the “Clean Girl” Aesthetic, I Finally Felt Like Myself
For a long time, I thought becoming beautiful meant becoming invisible.
Not literally invisible, but muted. Soft. Scentless. Beige. Polished. Pulled back. Like a whisper in lip gloss. That’s what the clean girl aesthetic taught me: that effort is fine — but only if you pretend it’s effortless.
Everywhere I turned on social media, I saw the same faces: slicked-back buns, laminated brows and clear skin that looked like it had never met a breakout. Minimal makeup (that still cost $200). Dewy, but never greasy. Matching gold jewelry, matching white towels, matching emotional detachment.
It looked beautiful. Peaceful. Controlled. And I wanted in.
Becoming a ‘Clean Girl’ (Or Trying To)
At first, it felt exciting. I bought gel pens for skincare. I wore my hair tight enough to cause a headache. I traded my loud lipstick for nude gloss and my oversized hoodies for little matching lounge sets in oatmeal and sage.
But slowly, I started to notice something: I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt small.
There was a pressure behind the polish. A quiet competition. A constant reminder that the goal was to look like you didn’t try — even if it took hours to get there. I found myself apologizing for the blemishes. Scrubbing harder. Feeling embarrassed when I wore a bold outfit or didn’t have time to curl my lashes. And all of it came wrapped in a weird, toxic calm. Like, if I was loud or messy or vibrant, I’d be betraying the softness I’d worked so hard to maintain.
The Lie of Effortless Beauty
The “clean girl” aesthetic claims to be natural. But let’s be real: it’s only ‘natural’ on bodies that already fit Eurocentric, slim, soft beauty standards. Most of the influencers behind the trend have money, time and genetics working in their favour. Their minimal routines are built on years of dermatologists, facials and filters.
I started reading about how this aesthetic isn’t just limiting — it’s exclusionary. It rarely leaves space for Black and brown women unless we conform to its rules. It makes acne, textured hair, fatness, visible disability or even just bold personality feel like clutter.
Aesthetic trends always come and go. But this one hit hard because it didn’t just tell us what to wear. It told us who to be.
Letting Go of Pretty Perfection
The turning point wasn’t dramatic. One day, I just got tired of hiding. I wore winged eyeliner to the store. I let my curls frizz in the rain. I wore mismatched socks and oversized jeans and told myself, I’m still hot.
It felt weird at first, like I was breaking character. But then it felt like me.
I realized I didn’t want to be “clean.” I wanted to be alive. Messy, funny, bold, moody, honest. I didn’t want to whisper. I wanted to take up space — with colour, with volume, with joy.
Real Beauty, Reclaimed
Since stepping away from the clean-girl aesthetic, I’ve felt more in my body. More forgiving of the skin I’m in. More curious about what beauty looks like for me — not what I’m told it should be.
Now my makeup isn’t about looking flawless. It’s about feeling fun. I’ll wear glitter one day and nothing the next. I’ll air-dry my hair. I’ll post a no-filter photo. I’ll show up with my real voice, my full laugh, my uneven eyeliner.
And it’s freeing.
Because true beauty, I’ve learned, isn’t about pretending you woke up like this. It’s about waking up and deciding you don’t owe anyone an explanation.
A Few Things I Do Now That Make Me Feel Beautiful:
- Playing music while I get dressed, even when I’m just wearing sweatpants
- Using skincare as self-touch, not just self-care
- Wearing loud earrings on a bare face
- Telling myself, “You’re allowed to take up space” in the mirror
- Laughing so hard I snort
- Letting my beauty be felt, not just seen
The clean girl aesthetic promised peace but gave me pressure. It sold me stillness when what I needed was motion. It asked me to be delicate when I am anything but.
Letting it go didn’t make me messier. It made me realer. And in that realness, I found a new kind of beauty — one that doesn’t apologize, one that doesn’t shrink and one that belongs to me.
