Every spring, I feel it.
Not the dramatic, rip-everything-out-and-reinvent-myself energy. That kind of chaos lost its appeal years ago. This urge is quieter. More deliberate. Less about transformation and more about truth.
It starts with closets. Then drawers. Paper piles. Old receipts. Cords I pretend still belong to something.
And eventually — always eventually — I get to my makeup bag.
Not just the one in my purse. The bathroom drawers too. The trays. The organizers. The quiet accumulation of years.
And that’s where it gets personal.
Because makeup doesn’t just hold pigment.
It holds memory.
There’s the lipstick I wore to an important meeting when I needed courage. The gloss that lived in my purse for years. The eyeshadow palette I kept “for special occasions.” And then there are products I’ve owned far longer than I would ever admit out loud.
That’s when spring cleaning stops being about organizing.
And starts being about reckoning.
Because makeup doesn’t last forever.
Even when we want it to.
The Tiny Symbol We All Ignore
As a founder, I know exactly what that small jar icon on cosmetic packaging means — the one with “6M,” “12M,” or “24M” printed inside.
But for years, I didn’t pay attention to it in my own routine.
That symbol is called PAO: Period After Opening. It tells you how long a product is considered safe and stable after you open it. After air gets in. After fingers or applicators touch it. After it starts living a real life in your makeup bag.
And once you truly understand that, you can’t unsee it.
Especially when you’re holding a mascara you know has been with you through multiple life chapters.
“It Still Looks Fine” Isn’t the Same as Safe
Here’s the quiet truth.
A product can look fine.
It can smell fine.
It can even apply fine.
And still not be something you should be putting near your eyes or on your lips.
Preservatives don’t work forever. Microbial growth doesn’t send you a warning. Water-based products — mascaras, liquid liners, liquid lipsticks, foundations, creams — are especially vulnerable. Every time you open them, oxygen enters. Every time the applicator goes back in, whatever was on your skin goes with it.
Your makeup bag is not sterile.
And once a product moves past its PAO window, the safety net weakens. You may not see it. But your skin might.
Unexplained irritation. Breakouts. Watery eyes.
And we rarely look at the mascara first.
Why This Matters More Now
When I was younger, I didn’t think much about it. My skin bounced back from everything. I could get away with more.
Now, I don’t want to “get away” with anything. I want to respect my skin. I want to treat it like it belongs to me long term.
Spring cleaning my makeup bag has become less about aesthetics and more about care.
Care for my eyes.
Care for my skin.
Care for the fact that what I put on my body matters.
Cleaning Without Shame
This isn’t an invitation to throw everything out overnight.
Most of us own makeup that’s sentimental. Discontinued. Expensive. Tied to a version of ourselves we’re not ready to release.
Spring cleaning doesn’t have to be ruthless. It just has to be honest.
I ask myself simple questions:
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Do I remember when I opened this?
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Has the texture changed?
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Would I feel comfortable putting this near my eyes today?
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Would I hand this to someone I love?
That last one usually answers everything.
Powder products tend to last longer because microbes need water to grow. But liquids and creams don’t age quietly.
And mascara? Mascara is always the first thing I let go of now.
No matter how attached I feel.
The Emotional Side of Letting Go
There’s another layer to this.
Sometimes we keep makeup because of what it represents.
The lipstick from your first big meeting.
The gloss from a relationship that meant something.
The palette from a summer that felt lighter.
Letting go of it can feel like letting go of that version of yourself.
But here’s the truth I’ve come to accept:
The power wasn’t in the product.
It was in you.
The lipstick didn’t create your confidence. The gloss didn’t create your joy. The palette didn’t create the season.
They accompanied you.
And it’s okay to thank them and move on.
Cleaning as a Ritual
When I clean my makeup bag now, it’s not frantic.
It’s a ritual.
I wash my brushes. I wipe down compacts. I clean organizers. I make space.
It’s grounding.
Your makeup bag should feel like care — not clutter.
It should contain products that serve who you are now, not who you were three versions ago.
And when I’m done, everything feels lighter.
Not empty.
Intentional.
I know what’s there.
I know it’s safe.
I know it supports me.
Why PAO Matters to Me as a Founder
At Cheekbone Beauty, PAO isn’t decorative.
It’s part of how we respect the people who trust us with their skin.
We test our formulas for stability. We choose preservative systems carefully. We think about packaging that minimizes contamination. We label PAO clearly because transparency matters more than pretending products last forever.
“Clean,” “vegan,” and “sustainable” should never mean compromising safety. If anything, they demand more rigor.
When someone buys from us, they’re trusting us with their skin. That trust deserves honesty.
No product lasts forever.
And pretending otherwise isn’t respectful.
Letting Go Is a Discipline
There’s something deeper here than expired mascara.
Spring cleaning my makeup bag reminds me how easy it is to hold onto things out of habit.
How easy it is to keep something because it “still looks fine.”
How easy it is to avoid asking whether something has quietly expired.
Makeup just makes it visible.
And letting go doesn’t have to be dramatic. It doesn’t have to come with guilt.
It can be calm.
Measured.
Intentional.
Replacing mascara on schedule isn’t wasteful. It’s responsible.
Cleaning brushes isn’t obsessive. It’s care.
Checking a PAO symbol isn’t rigid. It’s informed.
A Fresh Start, Without the Drama
Starting fresh doesn’t mean buying everything new.
It means choosing consciously.
It means respecting timelines.
It means acknowledging that products — like seasons — have a lifespan.
And that’s not tragic.
It’s natural.
Nothing is meant to last forever. Not trends. Not formulas. Not even our favorite lipstick.
But what can last is the discipline of care.
The awareness.
The willingness to ask:
What am I holding onto out of habit?
What still serves me?
What has quietly expired — even if it still looks fine?
Spring cleaning my makeup bag reminds me that honesty doesn’t have to be harsh.
It can be steady.
Compassionate.
Grounded.
Sometimes the smallest act — tossing a mascara, wiping down a compact — is a quiet declaration:
I deserve products that support me.
I deserve clarity in my routine.
I deserve to let go of what no longer serves me.
Even if it once did.
And that, more than anything, is what beauty means to me now.