You never really forget your first lipstick. Mine was Revlon’s Toast of New York—a warm cinnamon-brown that was, at the time, the height of chic. It was the mid-90s, I was a preteen with more Estee Lauder gift-with-purchase minis than I probably knew what to do with (thanks to my equally beauty-obsessed grandmother), but I was determined to buy a product on my own. With allowance money in hand, Toast of New York became my first real purchase.

I mostly wore it in front of the mirror, playing pretend makeovers, but it still marked a pivotal moment. The packaging alone—gold inlay, elegant and grown-up—made me feel like I had arrived. Pair that with Cindy Crawford reigning supreme in Revlon ads, and it felt like I was brushing up against sophistication itself.

From Brown Lips to Black Liner

Fast forward a few years, and my makeup bag had changed drastically. Out went cinnamon lipstick, in came Urban Decay’s metallic red Gash eyeshadow. Glamour and polish gave way to a darker kind of self-expression. At fourteen, with black nails and heavy kohl eyeliner smudged underneath my eyes, I leaned into subculture as a way of figuring myself out.

Cheek color disappeared (I blushed too easily on my own anyway), and my makeup became a shield, a uniform, a way to announce that I belonged to a different kind of tribe. Was it flattering? Not really. But did it feel like freedom? Absolutely.

Beauty as Escape

That’s the thing about makeup: it’s always been more than just color on a face for me. It’s a form of escapism, a way to try on different identities, or simply the joy of collecting little objects that spark delight. There’s power in that transformation—even if the end result is a bit messy.

And while I’ve since refined my taste (and my blending skills), that sense of joy has never left.

The Return of Toast of New York

Just last week, I bought another tube of Toast of New York. Nearly three decades later, not much has changed—apart from slightly sleeker packaging. The formula still smells faintly of vanilla cake batter, a detail that sent me right back to fall of 1996. It’s amazing how a single scent can unlock a memory so vividly, carrying with it a sense of comfort and calm.

Science backs this up, of course: studies show that smells are uniquely powerful in triggering older, more emotional memories than words or pictures can. But I didn’t need research to tell me that. All it took was twisting open that lipstick bullet.

The Nostalgia Effect

In recent years, I’ve noticed myself gravitating toward products that take me back. Call it a comfort blanket, call it a beauty time machine—whatever it is, I’m not alone. Nostalgia has become a trend in its own right, and beauty brands have taken notice.

Makeup Revolution has rolled out collaboration after collaboration, riffing on The Powerpuff Girls and Bratz—complete with fuzzy purple bags straight out of a Cher Horowitz dream. Ariana Grande’s R.E.M. Beauty, though designed with Gen Z in mind, has plenty of millennial fans thanks to its space-age, chrome packaging that screams futuristic…in a very 90s way.

Even small launches stir up big excitement when they tap into memory. Case in point: NYX’s release of a clear version of its cult-favorite Butter Gloss—a nod to the Juicy Tubes era that instantly lit up Instagram’s beauty crowd.

This is all part of what the industry calls the “20-year cycle rule”—the idea that trends resurface every two decades. Just like fashion recycles silhouettes and fabrics, beauty too circles back to glosses, shades, and aesthetics that once defined a generation.

Why We Keep Looking Back

But maybe it’s not just the cycle of trends. After years of global unrest and a pandemic that reshaped how we live, nostalgia offers a form of comfort. When the present feels uncertain, a swipe of an old lipstick or the scent of CK One at a department store can feel grounding.

Research supports this, too. A 2006 study linked nostalgia to loneliness and negative moods—but also highlighted its ability to foster connection and boost self-esteem. In other words, longing for the past isn’t inherently sad; sometimes, it’s a tool for resilience.

Small Comforts, Big Meaning

Maybe that’s why Bonne Bell Lip Lix sells for $30 on eBay. Or why claw clips, once written off as relics, have returned in full force. When the world feels overwhelming, these small comforts—shiny lip gloss, a whiff of vanilla lipstick, a familiar compact—become our tiny acts of escapism.

Just… maybe skip the Sun-In. Some things are better left in the past.