On a warm night in April, I gathered my dance gear as and began carelessly throwing it into my bag as any careless eleven-year-old does. I prepared for the biggest night of my (then) existence. Quickly I realized I was missing the obligatory black mascara we were forced to wear with our bright red lips for dance recitals. I scurried into my mother’s room in a panic, worried for what might happen if I showed up unprepared. She, ill-informed that I had run out, told me she only had an old, dried mascara to share with me. I, unknowing of how mascara worked, was upset. I thought this was the end-all-be-all of my dance career. She then shared with me a trick that would forever become a part of my makeup routine.


She told me if I wet the bristles, placed them back into the bottle and gave them a good pump a time or two, they would become almost as good as new. “The issue with mascara isn’t that it runs out, it’s that it dries up” she told me. For years now, I have used this trick at what seems to be the end of every mascara and alas! Another two months I am wide-eyed.


This isn’t where the story really takes off. Picture a boney, toe headed twelve-year-old in the girl’s locker room. She’s just getting out of swim and reapplying the sparse makeup she wears. By then it was mascara, a bright-blue MAC eye shadow passed on by Mom (thanks mom), and eye liner. The eye liner was not made to trace my eyes but rather dot in big, clumpy circles on my cheeks. These dots, applied to look like freckles, would change from day to day except for one. One large dot, set right under my left eye, to imitate my mom’s real freckle that I admired so much.


I spent weeks placing faux freckles around my face with my mom’s jet-black eye liner, only to be teased for pretending I had freckles. After being tormented to no end, I stopped applying faux freckles. I haven’t, however, stopped using my mom’s brilliant mascara trick.


One day back in September of 2016, I was working for a health and beauty brand pressed for time knowing the LA traffic was against me, I was rushing out the door for work. While brushing what brown mascara I could get on in a short amount of time the most magnificent thing happened. Spots splattered up my cheek and onto my forehead. I loved them, so, I left them!


After work, I stopped by Ulta and grabbed several mascaras and brow gels to reattempt my new-found look. Little to no luck. For weeks, I reached out to chemists searching for someone to bring my vision to life. After landing on a spectacular set of chemists, weeks of over 50 formulations, months of component tooling and configuring, years of learning, sweat and tears, a major rebrand & another year of doing it all over again, PHreckles was finally born.