Vote: What was the worst beauty trend of the noughties?

Barry M 100 lipstick still haunts me in my dreams

It’s Saturday morning and you’re gearing yourself up for a big day. Everyone’s meeting in town at 1pm. First stop is Subway, then Starbucks, followed by the bandstand in the park. You’ll buy some donuts and a Coca-Cola from Tesco on the way. After Louise has broken up with Tom on a park bench, you’ll head over to Rachel’s for a sleepover.

In preparation for town, you pick out your favourite pair of denim short shorts, Ramones t-shirt (from New Look), studded belt and Converse. Barry M 100 lipstick, Dream Matte Mousse, concealer, and some crusty, cheap mascara are all laid out, ready to be applied.

This is the noughties, 2000-2009, a period of your life where you look back at photos and consider creating a small bonfire to remove any evidence that you looked so terrible. It was a time where moustache print was cool, people were weirdly obsessed with owl jewellery and everyone owned a check shirt. Jack Wills was in its prime, as was big backcombed hair. But one thing that takes top spot as being horrendous, and frankly unforgivable, was the hair and make up. Who thought that many layers of mascara were okay? Why did a responsible adult let you leave the house with concealer acting as lipstick?

Every girl will look back at this period of time with pure horror at the amount of make-up caked onto their faces, but which noughties beauty trend was categorically the worst? Vote below:


Okay yeah, Avril Lavigne was rocking this look and the guys in My Chemical Romance (The Black Parade still makes you feel something), but that doesn’t mean you, a 13-year-old Year 7 wearing a studded belt from one of those weird shops in your local, 1980s shopping centre, usually next to a Subway or shop window that lets you have a pedicure via little skin eating fish, should be wearing so much black kohl eye pencil on not only the bottom, but top eye lids too. Not only did it make your eyes look tiny but it also melted off giving a rather unpleasant look come 5pm. 


Barry M 100 was a pale pink lipstick that once applied, made you look like you had no lips at all. Not too sure why people thought this look was a good idea considering on pics it made you look mouthless. Unless you applied it when you had your darkest shade of Dream Matte Mousse on, therefore making you look just like 2000s icon Paris Hilton and completely fucking mental. 


Similar to the above, except you ditched the Barry M lippie for a cheaper alternative: the concealer you already owned. This gave an even paler, ghost like look, and would show up on your fork, spoon, apple, whatever you were eating post-mouthful. Like fair enough Barry M 100 was often sold out, but your Collection 2000 concealer stick should not have been the alternative. 


There was absolutely nothing dreamy about this product. This foundation clung to every pore, spot, crease and crevice it could find. It was so unflattering and did the exact opposite of what foundation should do and yet we all bought it over and over again, in many different orange shades.

Also within seconds of opening it, the pot would be filthy – makeup brush hairs stuck in there, big nail dents from your last scoop, probably a bit of old crusty mascara. It was quite frankly a disgusting product and Maybelline should be ashamed of themselves.


Girls in the early 2000s must’ve got through a tube of mascara weekly thanks to the amount of layers that were applied on a daily basis. How many layers? You stopped counting after the 100th. Also how long did it take to get all of it off?? How many cotton pads?? It’s surprising we have any eyelashes left tbh. 


This was a hilarious trend because literally no one could actually do it well. The fucking stress you would feel when you realise the next step in your makeup look is the liquid liner and it was probably going to go the way it always does: First attempt (very bad), make up wipe, re-do foundation, second attempt (even worse), another makeup wipe, re-do foundation again (eyes are starting to look very red), third attempt (perfect), okay now for the next eye, not quite the same, even them up, fuck them both up, even them up again, not quite, a little bit more and a bit more. You’re done! The “flicks” now nearly reach your hairline and you’re so exhausted you could genuinely burst out crying, but it was all worth it for the sake of a two hour shopping trip with your best mate and her mum.


See below:



If this ever comes back in fashion I am calling the police. And if that doesn’t work, I’m digging a bunker far into the ground with enough preserves to last me until my last dying breath, so that me and my bushy eyebrows never have to go through that plucking process again. 


You were desperate to be a Jack Wills Seasonnaire, with beautiful backcombed, sea-salty blonde hair. You’d spend 20 minutes combing the back of your hair into a beehive shape, and before any photo was taken of you it was essential to do the swoop of the fringe with a push up at the back, just to ensure your barnet looked as bird’s nest as possible.


You thought wearing this would give off Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe vibes when in reality it just went all over your teeth and you kind of looked like a clown. And the shade of red was never correct and it just washed you out. But you carried on, even though it took you hours to apply, because you simply have to wear red lipstick on your Primark shopping trip. 

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This still exists now, but in a much more refined form. Noughties ombre meant your mate bleaching the last three inches of your hair, meaning you were left with a solid block of dark hair and then a weird, ginger-tinge block at the ends. You thought you’d peaked.


And by paint on your freckles we actually mean getting that kohl eye pencil and drawing black splodges all over your face. Then attempting to blend them with your finger which obviously didn’t work. Then putting some more Matte Mousse over the top to make it look more “natural”. Then taking five steps away from the mirror and thinking to yourself “that’s so chique”. No Amy, it was not chique at all.

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