Every time you abstain from beauty-related labour, you empower yourself, even if it's because you're "too lazy" to keep up with it. Each morning you skip makeup because you'd rather sleep in, each evening you let the leg hair grow because you have better things to do, each time you wear the same comfortable outfit instead of carefully curating your appearance - these are small victories in deciding that your time, energy, and attention belong to you.
I typically don't wear makeup outside of formal occasions (and when I do, it's mostly a signifier of respect for the occassion and its dress code). I wear the same boring clothes over and over. I don't even own any jewellery. This isn't because I'm making a principled stand or because I'm "brave" enough to embrace my natural appearance. It's simply not part of my lifestyle. Beauty labour isn't a necessary part of existing as a woman in the world. Framing natural choices as "brave" can be counterproductive when we should be normalizing different levels of engagement with beauty practices, not othering them. This isn't about actively rejecting beauty standards or making a political statement. It's about the radical possibility of genuine indifference. The path to changing beauty culture might not require perfect commitment or grand gestures - it might be as simple as more women regularly deciding they have better things to do with their time.
Women are told we face severe social and professional consequences if we don't invest significant time and money into our appearance. This message comes not just from beauty marketing and lifestyle influencers. The "beauty tax" theory is accepted as fact in feminist circles. Articles and books by prominent feminist writers - from Naomi Wolf's 'The Beauty Myth' to contemporary work on appearance discrimination - treat it as self-evident that women who don't perform sufficient beauty labour will face discrimination in hiring, promotion, and social acceptance. But I question how much this reflects the real world versus reinforcing the very anxieties that keep women policing their own appearance. My experience suggests this common wisdom is largely overstated. I've built a happy life and successful career while wearing cheap clothes, scuffed shoes, and unstyled (sometimes even unbrushed) hair. It makes me wonder if the fear of consequences does more to hold women back than the actual consequences ever do.
I acknowledge that my experience isn't universal. The appearance pressures on a librarian in her thirties are different from those of a TV news anchor or a cocktail waitress. Race and class shape these dynamics profoundly - women of color often face heightened scrutiny of their appearance, while class privilege can make certain forms of non-conformity more socially acceptable. Age, too, influences how much deviation from beauty standards is tolerated - what's read as "carefree" in your twenties might be labeled "unprofessional" in your forties or fifties. Yet while these factors are real, I suspect that even in appearance-conscious industries and positions, the consequences of minimal beauty labour could be less severe than we're led to believe, compared to the very real benefits.
Think about the mental energy women spend thinking about their appearance - energy that could be directed toward literally anything else. Think about the time saved every morning, the money not spent on beauty products and treatments, the freedom to move through the world without constant self-consciousness about how you look. This isn't about complete withdrawal from beauty culture - I'm living proof of that. When I said I don't wear makeup, dear reader, that was a partial lie - I wear tinted sunscreen that has the same effect as a light foundation, without adding time to my morning routine. I remove body hair, when I feel the desire to. I still care about things like clear skin and white teeth - beyond the realm of basic hygiene and into pure aesthetics - but I decide how much effort, time and money they’re worth.
The power of "lazy" feminism lies in its very ordinariness. You don't need to make a grand declaration of rejecting beauty standards. You don't need to commit to never shaving again or throwing out all your makeup. Nor do you need to bitterly conform to beauty culture, knowing it's bullshit, as if you have no other choice. Each small moment of choosing something else over beauty labour - whether that's sleep, work, hobbies, or just scrolling on your phone - is a moment of valuing yourself beyond your appearance. Even if you end up shaving those legs tomorrow, today you decided something else was more important. These individual choices might seem small, but their cumulative effect is powerful: quietly demonstrating that beauty labour is optional, not mandatory. That life goes on - often better - when we choose ourselves over our appearance. That we can succeed, connect, and thrive while giving beauty culture exactly as much attention as we decide it deserves— sometimes, none at all.