“I always say I’m professionally myself.” That’s how Tefi Pessoa describes her career—a digital storyteller who speaks on pop culture, mental health, astrology, and the messy beauty of girlhood. Her voice cuts through the noise of the internet with something rare: encouragement. For an audience raised on toxic Y2K-era messaging around women and aging, her content feels like a corrective, a steady reminder that the things we were once told to fear about ourselves can be met with humor, honesty, and grace.
The word influencer might feel flimsy to some, but Pessoa treats it differently. Influence, she argues, is power. And the way it’s used online has changed dramatically: “Now, people want storytelling. They want to feel like they know you.”
Becoming “the Older Girl on the Internet”
Pessoa didn’t start posting until her early thirties, a late start by TikTok standards. At the time, feeds were dominated by teenagers like Addison Rae and Charli D’Amelio, so her age immediately set her apart. That difference worked in her favor—suddenly, she became the person people turned to for advice, nostalgia, and perspective. “I always think of it less like being a big sister and more like being your favorite coworker,” she says with a laugh.
It wasn’t always so natural. She never saw herself as the voice of reason, more like someone who made mistakes and lived to tell the tale. “I’m the girl who gets food poisoning at the shady buffet and then tells everyone, don’t go there.” Yet, when the world was searching for guidance and connection during quarantine, that candidness turned into a career.
Her big break came unexpectedly when InStyle reached out to hire her for their TikTok presence. Pessoa thought the email was spam. But she took the call, landed the job, and from there, her online momentum snowballed—red carpets, features, and now an advice column for The Cut. She’s also launching Tefi Talks, a Vox Media podcast dedicated to weekly pop culture deep dives.
The foundation of it all? She stopped caring about whether people thought she was hot, cringe, or likable. That indifference, born out of being in a secure relationship at the time, gave her freedom: “It was the perfect storm that helped me grow.”
Beauty Without Shame
Beauty was always in the background for Pessoa. Her mother and grandmother were “beauty girls,” though not in the way media often framed it. “My mom never talked about her body—she only told me, ‘Have you seen your body? You’re beautiful.’”
But growing up in the 2000s meant absorbing the harsh scrutiny celebrity women faced. Tabloid headlines and Cosmo columns painted femininity as a battlefield. “It felt like I had to choose between Sofia Vergara or Paris Hilton,” she recalls. Over time, she realized beauty didn’t have to define her worth—or anyone’s. Letting go of that pressure freed up space for everything else.
Today, her approach is pragmatic. She swears by PanOxyl’s benzoyl peroxide wash (“I know it bleaches towels—I don’t care”), Elemis moisturizers, Caudalíe’s Vinoperfect serum, and 111Skin masks for big nights. She’s unapologetically transparent about her cosmetic treatments, too: Botox every three months “like church,” occasional filler, and regular facials. “I really appreciate when people are open about what they’ve done,” she says. “I’ve never felt ashamed of it.”
Makeup, Hair, and the Joy of Trying
Pessoa’s makeup routine is quick but deliberate. Concealer is her holy grail—she rotates between YSL, Kosas, and CoverGirl depending on her mood. Milk Makeup bronzer, Hourglass palettes, and MAC lip liners round out her essentials. A swipe of Armani gloss finishes the look.
Her relationship with hair has been more complicated. Growing up in Miami, styling thick hair felt impossible. The Revlon Hot Air Brush became a game-changer, and she now alternates between that, the Dyson Airwrap, and products from L’Oréal, Living Proof, and Bread Beauty Supply to keep her strands glossy and healthy. “I wanted that Mob Wives shine,” she jokes.
As for nails, she once loved the drama of long acrylics, but cut them short after the election. “I didn’t want to feel delicate anymore,” she explains. That shift marked a bigger realization: so much of beauty can feel like performance. “I thought, If I’m beautiful, I’m safe. But the truth is, I’m never safe—whether I have eyelash extensions or really long nails.”
Influence, Redefined
Pessoa’s greatest influence might not be in the products she uses but in the perspective she shares. She doesn’t frame advice through shame but through lived experience. Whether it’s a skincare tip, a reminder to moisturize, or a hard-earned lesson about relationships, her storytelling invites people to feel less alone.
Her career may have started by accident, but her impact is intentional. By choosing candor over curation, she’s built a community where honesty feels stylish and aging doesn’t feel like a curse. In a world that still pressures women to shrink themselves, Pessoa’s influence is expansive: a reminder that beauty, humor, and humanity can all coexist—and that being “professionally yourself” might just be enough.
