💄 What Bobbi Brown Taught Me About College Essays

For years, my favorite makeup artist has been Bobbi Brown.

She’s unflashy, doesn’t try to shave a decade off everyone’s face, aaaand slaps her lipstick on in her car as she arrives for her meetings (relatable 😅). She’s also stood grounded in one unshakable truth ever since she came on the scene

You don’t need to look like someone else to look amazing. ✨

Her whole approach is built around restraint. She’s not painting on a new face but bringing forward what’s already beautiful. Toning down the blemishes. Brightening the skin. Adding just enough color to make the whole face feel intentional, finished, and cohesive.

She draws the line at anything performative — no tarantula lashes, blocky Instagram brows, nor lipsticks named UV Glow...
She’s not here to transform. She’s here to reveal what's already there.

And the brilliance of her work isn’t just what she adds. It’s knowing when to stop — when you already look like yourself, just… lit from within.

And wouldn’t you know — that’s exactly what the best college essay should do.

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💋

When the Essay Wears Too Much Makeup

I’ve seen it more than once. A teen who’s got solid B+ vibes in school ends up turning in a personal statement that reads like they’re applying for a Pulitzer.

Perfect syntax. Grand conclusions. A tone that’s a little too TED Talk for someone who still has a learner’s permit.

But you know what happens... Readers can feel it. They don’t always know why — but something feels off.

It’s like when a middle schooler shows up to the school dance with lashes so dramatic they’re casting shadows. 

It doesn’t fit.

Same applies to an essay. It can be beautiful, clean, and well-structured and still raise red flags if it sounds like someone else wrote it.

Because let’s be honest: sometimes, even with the best intentions, we (yes, we) end up doing too much.

Maybe it’s adding that extra sparkle sentence.

Or smoothing over the rough edges until the whole thing doesn’t sound like a teenager anymore.

It’s not lying — it’s just… trying too hard and too much

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🎀

But Overdoing 
Isn’t the Only Issue…

This happens just as often. I call it the “essay with no bow” 🎀

It’s like your teen sent a great gift for the admissions officer — 650 words of solid storytelling — and then handed it over in an unwrapped Amazon box 📦

It’s just… done. But not in a satisfying way. There’s no finesse that says: “Hey, this is what it all meant. This is why it matters.”

And that’s a missed opportunity.

The bow — like Bobbi’s Miracle Balm for your face — is what leaves a lasting impression. That’s what makes a reader sit back and think, “Wow, I see this kid.”

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🔍

What’s the Sweet Spot Then?

Your role is to help your teen write the best essay of their life.

Not the best essay you could write. 🙅‍♀️

Not the one they’d turn in to their AP Lit teacher with a nervous smile. 

Just theirs — polished, thoughtful, true. 

Think Bobbi Brown makeup: the kind that gives just enough enhancement to make someone feel seen, not hidden.

That doesn’t mean watering things down or holding back depth.
They still need to show up as they really are — with all their insights and quirks and heart — but without layering on a full face of words that don’t belong to them.

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So how do you know if they’ve hit that sweet spot? 

Use these five quick questions to guide you:

1. Does this sound like my teen if they were telling a story at dinner — on a really good day?
   Not rehearsed. Not robotic. Just them, lit up and in their element.
    

2. Can I clearly hear what matters to them, not just what happened?
   It’s not about the event — it’s about the meaning.
    

3. Could an admissions officer read this and picture who they’d be on campus?
   Do you walk away thinking, “I want this kid in my seminar or study group”?
    

4. Does the ending pull everything together — or does it just … stop?
   A great essay ties the bow, adds the spark, and leaves the reader feeling something.
    

5. Would a teacher say “impressive,” or would a friend say “this is so you”?
   You want both, but if you only get one, always go for the second. Because “real” outranks “impressive” every time.

If you’re answering “not quite” to any of those, suggest that they revise it a little. A few small shifts can make a big difference.

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🛑

Let’s Talk About Us For A Sec

A quick note to my fellow parents.

We’ve all had that moment. The one where your kid is elbow-deep in a project — glue sticks everywhere, three false starts on the intro paragraph — and you feel that tug. That urge to step in, fix the sentence, shape the story, make it… better.

Because we know what “better” looks like. We’ve lived enough. We’ve seen enough.

And we want their story to land, especially this one.

But I’m learning — over and over — that the real magic doesn’t happen when we perfect things for them. It happens when we sit on our hands just long enough to let their voice come through.

Because while we’re trying to help them stand out, they’re quietly wondering if they even measure up.

Remember, all they see these days are highlight reels, class ranking, perfect test scores, glossy TikToks, and fake confidence.

And under it all, they’re asking:

💭 “Am I good enough?”
💭 “Is this what they want?”
💭 “Should I say something bigger, smarter, more important?”

But this little college essay is the one place they don’t have to perform.

It’s not a test, nor a resume. It doesn’t need to be dramatic or impressive.

It’s a tiny window where they get to be real. Where they get to say: This is who I am, and this is what I’ve lived.

So our job is not to build the volcano. It’s to hand them the baking soda and vinegar and remind them:

“You’ve already got everything you need. Light it up.” 
🏋️‍♂️🔥

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With you every step of the way — helping your teen shine, but not shimmer.

Christy

👋 Hi, if we haven't met yet, I'm Christy. I help students craft standout essays so they can submit their best possible applications with confidence.

Wanna chat? www.calendly.com/easiercollegeessays/30min

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