I never expected to be in a room where the mention of a makeup tool would prompt a round of applause. But when Mario Dedivanovic announces, “I’m going to be using the F4,” and brandishes a double-ended foundation/bronzer brush in front of a camera that is projecting his every gesture onto a gigantic screen in a Midtown Manhattan auditorium, the crowd erupts into such a roar you’d think Taylor and Travis had appeared onstage and started making out. The F4! I know, epic. Take a moment to catch your breath.
This, as advertised on the sky-high marquee outside, is Makeup by Mario Beyond the Artistry. It’s an abbreviated version of Dedivanovic’s much-ballyhooed Masterclass, an intensive tutorial for fledgling makeup artists that lasts eight hours and costs around $750 (today’s class, an invitation-only freebie, is less than three hours).
The event marks Dedivanovic’s 25-year career as a makeup artist and five years of Makeup by Mario being sold at Sephora, though if you’re up on your Dedivanovic lore, you know that the two are intertwined. He started his career as a young whippersnapper in Sephora’s fragrance department in 2000 before quickly proving his mastery of maquillage and rising, buoyed by his deft contouring of Kim Kardashian’s cheekbones, into the stratosphere. Now, he’s about as close to being a rock star as a makeup artist can get. I’m here to see if I can pick up any tips.
Should I take a class-placement quiz? Let me tell you everything I have not done: Apart from an incident in junior high when I became overzealous about a peacock-hued eye palette, I have never applied eyeshadow with anything other than my finger and never anywhere other than directly on the lid. (I know there’s a crease there, but do I want to call attention to it?). I’ve never applied bronzer to my forehead because a dermatologist once told me that I have a “pinhead.” (Also, I have bangs.) Lipliner is anathema to me. And I have never considered the fact that I could adjust the appearance of my nose with contouring, despite the number one observation I make when I see photos of myself, invariably being “my nose looks like a penis.” I have a lot to learn.
Dedivanovic’s signature process involves dusting the skin with powder both before and after foundation, and again after bronzer and contour, so that every layer melds into the skin, creating a flawless finish and a seamless interplay of light and dark that renders the features dramatically sculptural and doll-like. To my slight disappointment, he announces upon taking the stage that he will not be doing anything “glam”—this will be a natural, everyday look—adding, “I no longer do what I did in 2018.” He is referring, of course, to the hard-lined, uber-contoured makeup that he perfected on Kardashian and which has become synonymous with “influencer face.” From this phenomenon, he wishes to be distanced. As do we all.
He begins with an eyebrow pencil and expresses delight that the model he is working on today has thin brows. Those thick caterpillar arches, once so ubiquitous? Over! (Influencer face). I plucked out virtually all of my brows the last time thin was in, so I’m thrilled. Lo, the class has scarcely begun, and I am already on trend. Then, Dedivanovic goes forth and works his magic: defining the model’s eyes with a delicate darkening of the upper waterline and burnishing her lids with warm ochre shadow, shaping her face (subtly) with bronzer and a peach-pink blush on the apples of her cheeks, overlining her lips just a tad at the cupid’s bow (“It looks more youthful”), and fielding a barrage of questions from the audience all the while.
He makes all look so easy—it’s like watching Bob Ross create an unfeasibly detailed landscape painting with a few casually dispatched blobs of paint. I can’t wait to go home and try it myself.
I have always loved the British slang word for makeup—slap—because it’s a fairly accurate description of the way I apply the stuff. I slather on foundation, smudge on some rouge, dash on a red lip, flick on a coat of mascara, and deem my face complete. It takes me five minutes. Dedivanovic’s protocol, though, forces me to linger over the details. I work eyeshadow into creases; I polish my pinhead; I elongate my brows and strategically darken the sides and tip of my nose so that it appears shorter and thinner, finally achieving the micropenis schnoz of my dreams. I spend an hour, which is the duration Dedivanovic states as his minimum to complete a look. I wouldn’t do this every day (this is not, despite his promise, a “natural, everyday look”), but I must say the effort pays off. I look flawless.
It helps that Makeup by Mario products are beautifully formulated: the eyeshadows glide on like butter; the mascara lifts and separates every lash; the cheek shades are foolproof. I even love the lipliner, damn it. The man’s a rock star for a reason.
And the F4? Next time, I’ll be giving it a standing ovation.
April Long is a New York–based writer and contributing beauty editor at Town & Country
