The Hangover From Heroin Chic and the Freedom I Found in My Real Face
I was an international model in the late ’90s.
And if you know anything about that era in fashion, you know exactly what the vibe was Heroin chic.
Androgynous bodies. Hollow cheeks. Heavy, dark under-eyes. It was cool to look like you hadn’t slept—or eaten. It was even cooler to act like you didn’t care.
But let me tell you something: I cared. I cared so deeply it consumed me.
Because behind the runway lights and the magazine spreads was a girl who had no idea what she looked like without being “on.”
BEAUTIFULLY HUNGOVER
THE AESTHETIC OF THE ERA
Looking like you were beautifully hungover was the dream. Think sunken cheeks, smudged eyeliner, and a dazed stare like you’d just walked out of a club at 5AM in Paris.
And at the time? I bought into it fully. Because in that world, beauty was about
detachment.
You didn’t smile too wide. You didn’t emote too much. You didn’t eat pasta. Ever.
That was the first time I learned to disconnect from my body and wear it like a costume. Like something to be studied. Posed. Perfected. Not lived in.
THEN FILTERS CAME ALONG—AND THEY FELT LIKE HOME
So fast-forward to the 2010s—when filters hit Instagram? I was like, “Oh. This is my jam.”
A swipe of Valencia or some airbrushed glow felt like stepping back into the safety of that old identity. Controlled. Pretty. Distant.
The obsession came back, but this time, digitally engineered.
And then—real life would happen. I’d meet people who followed me online, and I could see it in their eyes…
“Oh. You look… different.”
And there it was the unspoken shame of not matching your online self.
THE MIRROR MOMENT THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
One morning, I stood in front of the mirror. No makeup. No ring light. Just me and this… tired, puffy, beautiful face staring back.
And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel disgust or urgency to fix.
I felt grief.
Grief for all the years I’d spent trying to disappear into beauty.
Grief for all the times I was told I was only valuable if I looked like I hadn’t lived.
Grief for how hard I had worked to not look like myself.
But right behind that grief? There was a flicker of something else.
Freedom.
THE RULES I’M DONE WITH
So here’s what I’m leaving behind—for good
❌ Beauty = bone structure
❌ Hot = hollow
❌ Perfect = quiet + thin + filtered
❌ Looking good > feeling good
WHAT BEAUTY MEANS TO ME NOW
Beauty is skin that reflects the life I’ve lived—not the life I pretended to.
Beauty is choosing presence over perfection.
Beauty is wearing my face without apology.
Mirror Talk Monday isn’t some feel-good ritual.
It’s me looking in the mirror and saying, “This is who I am. And I’m not hiding anymore.”
YOUR INVITE: #MirrorTalkMonday
This week, I challenge you to show up as you are.
One unfiltered photo. One loving affirmation. Look in the mirror.
Tell your reflection “Thank you for carrying me through all of it.”
And if you're ready to join the rebellion? Post it. Tag us @faithfearlessbeauty and use #MirrorTalkMonday.
Because we’re done hiding. We’re done disappearing. And we’re done pretending filtered faces are the goal.
We’re here. Unfiltered. Unedited. Unapologetic.
Much Love,
Sarah
Chief Sass Officer
