They’re just two small arcs, about 250 strands each, and yet eyebrows have become the center of an outsize amount of attention and energy. They’re tweezed, waxed, threaded, shaved, dyed, bleached, micro-bladed, and laminated. They’re penciled, pomaded, powdered, and gelled. They’re skinny, full, flat, and fluffy. And, sometimes, they’re coaxed into proud unibrows.
It’s hard to remember a time before eyebrow groomers, but I do. It was the early 90s, when a few people who specialized in facials or leg waxing suddenly started considering that tiny territory of the face. Before then, I didn’t give them a second thought, or even a first thought. My mother, who never left the house without flawless lipstick and a full manicure, didn’t touch her eyebrows. And then, one day sometime in 1993, we all did. We had brow groomers and standing appointments on the calendar, and that was that. The end of innocence.
