Welcome to Mouldboard

It's somewhere between a petri dish and a mood board. Whatever that means.

When I first entered the beauty industry, someone who I consider to be a mentor told me, “It’s not that if you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life; it’s if you do what you love, you’ll eventually hate what you love.” This came from the same person who told me that my goal should not be to be gifted a Chanel purse but to come to a place where I can buy one for myself, so I knew they were probably right about that first bit of advice. 

I began my foray into beauty the same way everyone did: bright-eyed and hopeful to make some real change. I had no interest in perpetuating the industry’s horrors that traumatized both my peers and me growing up (hi, body dysmorphia, acne-shaming, agism, and Eurocentric beauty standards). Instead, I wanted to be the talking head who looked into the camera and told the American people, “This is fucked up, and we all deserve better.” In my naïveté, I thought if I could infiltrate the media, I could preach about real self-love, acceptance, and celebration through beauty.

If I ever become important enough to write a memoir (lol), I’ll eventually spill all the details that led me to hate being a Beauty Writer (I don’t hate writing about beauty; I just want to do it on a broader scale). For now, all you need to know is that there is neither one editor who ruined it for me nor one publication that made me want to puke whenever I clocked in. In fact, beauty editors are all super sweet and down to earth—I’ve loved each one with whom I’ve worked.

It was the fact that, for the most part, having a voice or opinion matters less and less in the editorial world these days, and what matters more is covering the trends or celebrities that would probably pop off in terms of SEO or social virality. Of course, there are think pieces and cool features that come from a genuine love for journalism, and I don’t want to discount the stories that others and I have written from the depths of our hearts. But, from my experience, those stories only come by a few times a quarter, spliced into long stretches of writing mind-numbing, SEO-driven content.

I wrote about five stories daily during my time in editorial, so I was too exhausted to write personally outside of my job. Over time, I found myself feeling less like it was me writing about beauty and wellness and more like I was filling out Mad Libs story templates about trending Kohl liners or heatless curling sets—all I had to do was fill in the writing formula as quickly as possible and get on to the next story.

But I believe in a slower pace of life and in finding beauty in everything—not just the things that surface on TikTok or the red carpet. I can’t deny the fact that there’s a lot of creativity and inspiration in these spaces—but my job made me only look to them for what defines beauty, making me lose sight of what I actually found beautiful. I suddenly was way more into celebrity culture, and for the first time in my life, I followed what were once gossip pubs like TMZ and E! on social media to keep up with the news. 

So, I re-evaluated my entire life and career and joined the Great Resignation in September 2023, transitioning to freelance writing full-time. (I have more plans, but I only like to count my chickens after they hatch.)

Beauty is such a vague word, and it means something different to everyone—yet we’ve convinced everyone to attribute it to face creams and skinny legs. But make no mistake—this is not an anti-beauty industry newsletter, and I won’t demonize every TikTok trend out there (in fact, I may occasionally write about them in positive ways). This is simply a story of a girl discovering what true beauty means to her. I was ground down by working long hours with this one definition of beauty, and it darkly catalyzed my need to say something that felt authentic to me. I think it’s necessary to question whether or not our collective pursuit of beauty is justified or essential. 

Aside from enjoying life as a freelance writer and brand copywriter (I can finally be a lady who lunches), I’m starting 2024 off by implementing my own writing into my routine here at Mouldboard. That’ll include flowery, winding stories about the latest beauty trends, fashion, pop culture, film, music, and wellness, yes—but it’ll be less about how you can work for them and more of a guide to make them work for you. Because I’m over the idea of telling you how to follow trends perfectly, and I don’t want to be someone who regurgitates the same celeb beauty tutorial for clicks. I want to go back to my OG plan of letting my audience know that there *is* a space for letting their true, individualistic selves shine through—even during a time when being an “It-Girl” means grasping onto fleeting microtrends.

Here’s how it’s going to work. I’ll post a story a week about anything, from beauty and fashion to wellness and mental health. As time progresses, I’m hoping to get some interviews with people who I think are remarkable and opening up my email to create an advice column (shoot a message below if you’d like for me to create that—you can also DM me here if you want to stay more anon). I’ll also post a monthly edit of everything I use, spanning every category imaginable.

Like real mould, I have no idea how this newsletter will grow—I can only hope you love whatever festers here.

Mould Board was mistakenly the perfect name for my Substack. It began during the height of the pandemic when group chats were my primary connection to the outside world. I meant to write “that’s going on the mood board” and instead wrote “mould board.” It stuck, and I created a (semi) anonymous Instagram page under that handle, my secret online place to share my favorite art. Mould is, of course, the British spelling of mold, which I find so fascinating — there’s a ton of beauty in the decomposition to regeneration pipeline, and, obvi, mold can be really pretty. But it’s also a great name for creating a mood board of the things that may be too dirty (not sexual, per se, just weird) for typical magazines.