TikTok beauty trends have a unique way of making me feel both seen and exposed. I’ll explain. In the pursuit of finding niche beauty hacks that work on my specific features — especially my Black features — I’ve become extremely self-aware about all the various nuts and bolts that make me, well… me. After all, it’s through time well-spent scrolling on TikTok that I now know that the siren eyes trend works well on my #hoodedeyes, that there’s an ideal way to contour my long, #oblongface, and, in more recent scrolling activity, that I have a prominent  “double lipline” — and I may have been applying my lipstick incorrectly all along.

As a Black woman with full lips and a thick lip line around the border, the emerging double lip line videos on TikTok —  which are currently garnering more than 6 million views on the social media app —  are speaking directly to people with lips like mine. It’s a term spearheaded by Śola, a Black fashion journalist and UK-based content creator whose channel BeautyByŚola has been going viral for her make-up videos about her own double lip line. As she explains in her videos, it’s something Rihanna, FKA twigs, Gigi Hadid and more are said to have (and importantly, are celebrated for) yet double lip lines can be tricky when it comes to applying lip liner. Videos explaining how to effectively line lips like these are designed to be helpful but some have accused them of making people hyper-aware of something they may have otherwise been oblivious to. So what exactly is a double lip line and why should we care?

What exactly is a double lip line?

The phrase “double lip line” was coined by Śola after she learned she has a prominent vermillion border, which is the line just above the coloured portion that connects the lip tissue to the rest of your face. For some, this demarcation line between their lips and their skin is more defined and noticeable than others. It can mean that when applying lip liner and lipstick, the colour can bleed or look unnatural. 

Speaking to Unbothered, Śola explains that she began exploring double lip lines out of a genuine desire to learn more about her own. 

“It’s all about lips right now,” she says over Zoom. “It started with all the various lip kits, and then everyone wanted to have full lips and started to get lip filler. As a Black woman with naturally full lips, I couldn’t figure out why my lip liner never looked good when I put it on. So I began researching and learned about the vermillion border.”

“I always said I had a double lip line because that’s the only way I could describe it,” she continues. “And the only other person I saw had it was Rihanna. And I thought you know what, there has to be a way because she always looks fly”.

Śola explains in more detail that lip liner techniques like overlining can smudge or look unnatural if you have a strong vermillion border. In her videos, she explains to her followers the most effective placement of lip liner along the inner perimeter of the lip and recommends the use of neutral tone lip liner that matches your skin tone when using any shade of lipstick. For me, an avid lipstick wearer, these tips have been extremely helpful for creating a more defined pout. 

“I thought, I’m gonna make a video on this, now that I’ve finally mastered [how to line my lips properly]. The double lip line is similar to videos I’ve done about ‘how to wash your braids properly’ or ‘how to do your passion twists’ or what are the best sunscreens for darker skin’, I have to talk about it because if I’m thinking it, someone else might be thinking it.”

@beautybysola Love having it though 💋 #makeuptutorial #makeuphacks #makeuptips #linertutorial #linertips #makeuproutine #doublelipline #lipsticktutorial #lipstickhack @beautybysola ♬ original sound – Sola Makeup•skincare•hair

Is a double lip line worth being self-conscious about?

Not everyone has been thrilled with the double lip-line discourse. As one user posted, “TikTok, I’m begging you, stop making sh*t up, what the hell a double lip line? Everyone has that to varying degrees.” Yet, despite some minor backlash, Śola is unfazed and wants to make clear that the videos are born out of her own real desires for her own features to be represented. 

“Cosmetic surgeries and lip fillers have become more popular over the [last] decade or so, and people are much more exposed to having big lips, but this hasn’t always been a thing,” she explains.

“When I was younger, I didn’t see anyone that looked like me and I was bullied for the way my lips looked,” she says. “And it was hard for me to position myself in a space of thinking I was beautiful because I didn’t see anyone with lips that looked like mine. While everyone in my family had full lips and looked similar to me, growing up all I saw were shows like Sweet Valley High and they didn’t have lips like mine. So when I finally got into makeup, and I was putting on makeup, I didn’t know how to do it.”

As a teen in the noughties, I hard relate to Śola’s journey of learning to love her full lips when they were once something people ridiculed. Yet, I’d personally never heard or cared about my double lip line before now. Could making an example out of it on TikTok make some more self-aware about their face and beauty than is perhaps healthy?

“Just because you may be late to it, doesn’t necessarily mean other people may not be struggling with that particular thing,” Śola says. “I was never told when I was younger, that it was a nice, good thing to have, maybe you did, but I wasn’t exposed to that. There are a lot of people who have had the same issue as me,” she adds.

@beautybysola Double lip line tutorial part 2 🥰 #doublelipline #makeuptutorial #makeuphacks #makeuptip #makeuproutine #makeuptiktok #lipsticktutorial #lipstickhack @beautybysola @beautybysola ♬ crazy in love x material girl by altegomusic – ALTÉGO

“This is why I believe we need to encourage esteem in people that have these natural attributes that weren’t esteemed before, because, for a long time, they’ve subconsciously, like myself, thought [they were] not good enough. But now, I shifted my thinking; this is actually something I can really work with. I know it’s beautiful. And I know it’s unique. I am reinforcing that by learning to work with my unique attributes,” she says.

Śola suggests that like with the natural hair community, where Black people began to learn about how to work with their specific hair textures, learning how to work with your specific lip shape opens you up to a better understanding of how makeup works on your face.

“It’s actually quite simple. It’s not something to be insecure about but something to celebrate. If my videos help you, then this is for you. If it’s not, it’s okay, it’s cool. It’s fine.”

In many ways, extremely niche and nuanced makeup tutorials are just more examples of representation within beauty. And, having more tailored tips only really leads to better makeup. This is certainly true for Śola.

“I feel like — especially among Black women — our lips tend to stand out for many of us. And they can be a centre stage part of our face. Now I get complimented a lot on my lips, and I now love the parts of my lips I used to be bullied for. And now when I do my lips with this new understanding of how to apply my lip liner and my lipstick, it doesn’t look as if the makeup is wearing me.”

“It’s funny,” she adds. “I know other cultures do this too, but remember when our aunties and moms used to do the lip line and the gloss back in the nineties? They had the blueprint all along.”

This article was originally published on Unbothered UK

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I had just lost a baby. I force fed myself tequila as I wailed over the phone to my best friend hundreds of miles away, and waited for my ex-boyfriend — the baby’s father — to show up and magically make the pain go away. He never showed up, physically or emotionally, and I spent the weeks leading into the new year drunk and suicidal. 

Now, years later, I am in a totally different place. I’m proudly celibate, and it’s taught me more about my relationship with sex than anything before.

I’d always been nervous about sex; it was never a mountain I aimed to climb or conquer. I grew up devoutly Christian with the intent of waiting until marriage, but I lost my virginity at 17 as a knee-jerk reaction to my high-school sweetheart losing his — and so began my sexual journey. Like many young girls, I wasn’t really ready, and even though my partner was a nice guy, it wasn’t what I envisioned. I grew up with this idea of a really momentous “first time” that would be sweepingly romantic and full of tenderness. I didn’t understand how to set boundaries for myself, and I let the title “boyfriend” become the only requirement needed for sex.

Being in an “adult” or “committed” relationship that didn’t involve sex never felt attainable or realistic. There wasn’t a magic “re-virginize me” button I could press that would undo my choices, so I accepted that sex would always be a non-negotiable in a relationship.

That changed when I met a person I thought I was going to marry. It was like unlocking a sexual Rubik’s Cube. It was safe and fun, and I felt confident and secure in the sense that the connection was mutual… until he cheated and we broke up. 

We spent a year apart, then reconciled only to deal with an unexpected pregnancy scare that changed the course of our relationship. I had always expressed I never desired or wanted to be a mother in any capacity, so I was scared. He had always expressed that he desired me to be the mother of this children, so needless to say we were on separate pages. Two months later, I had an early miscarriage and my entire world turned upside down. The miscarriage was quick and swift, but I carried the guilt and shame like I had a boulder duct taped to my back.

I initially set out to be celibate as a means of punishing myself for my carelessness in trusting my body with the wrong person. It felt like an easy math equation to subtract sex from the picture altogether because I didn’t trust myself. My grave error had cost me a lot, and it wasn’t a mistake I wanted to make again.

But as I began going to therapy, digging into a relationship with God, and healing, slowly my motives changed. I realized that for me, sex is a pizza that requires all the right toppings for me to be satisfied. I can’t just settle for whatever’s around, or it’s meaningless to me. Whenever I chose to have sex outside of those parameters, I was doing myself a disservice. I came to understand that my first priority should be my wellbeing, which means not having sex just to prove I’m a “grown woman.” 

“I’m going to be celibate” or “I choose not to have sex until…” are not statements that have won me popularity with my friends or in dating. In the past few years, I’ve grown an awareness and love for myself that I wish I had before. That eventually made its way into my closest relationships. My family is very religious, so my choosing celibacy after my miscarriage was met with joy and hand claps. As a Christian, faith does play a part in how I view the scope of sex, but it’s not the sole reason why I choose to be celibate. It’s painful to think it took having a miscarriage for me to think introspectively about sex, but losing a piece of yourself forces you to figure out how you got so lost in the first place.

My friends are aware of all my sexual history and the miscarriage, but that doesn’t keep them from encouraging me to have sex. Their lack of enthusiasm about my choice feels like an extension of my dating life. The dating pool doesn’t blow confetti when you say “I’m celibate” — it retreats like prey running from a lion. My dating life since choosing celibacy has been met with skepticism, resignation, ghosting, and flat-out shock. How dare I say that I’m not going to have sex and expect a man to be okay with that? 

When I first began telling men I was celibate, I played around with the timing and tried to decipher when it was “too early” or “too late” for this revelation. I had one guy ghost me after two months of blissful dates, and another tell me it wasn’t realistic for me to think a man will be okay with not having sex. I’ve had situations where a man attempts to sway me into having sex like a lawyer trying to win a big case. It becomes this weird objective of trying to see how far he can get, or trying to convince me I’m destined to be alone. I’ll be the first one to tell you: That doesn’t scare me in the slightest.

I won’t pretend that it’s easy or that I don’t feel defeated at times, because I do. But it’s a choice I stand by. I applaud those who have the agency to have sex how and when they want; it’s a human right they are entitled to have. By the same token, I’m allowed to have established boundaries and standards for my sex life, and in this case, it’s waiting until I’m ready.

Being celibate is first and foremost about me: loving, protecting, and holding myself to a standard that allows me to prioritize the type of sexual experience I want for myself. I’m human, so it can be lonely. I’m often met with questions revolving around how I alleviate my sexual urges, as if there’s some special secret. And guess what? There’s not. 

Dating already feels like an Olympic sport between connecting on apps, the “talking stage,” exclusivity, then finally lapping the corner towards the finish line of a “committed relationship.” By choosing celibacy and being honest about that from the initial stages of dating someone, I’m not making it any easier on myself. While it may take a while, I’m hopeful there will be a man who wants to honor and support me in my celibacy journey, no matter where that takes us. Who won’t treat it like a chess match to win or a game he thinks I’m playing to be “cute” or “coy.” 

Not having sex isn’t the end of the world when there’s so much more I want to discover about the person I’m dating than whether they can give me an orgasm or blow my back out. Being celibate has provided a surge of confidence and love for myself I never had before. It’s transformed how I view sex and the part I play in it, and I love that for me.

If you are thinking about suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or the Suicide Crisis Line at 1-800-784-2433.

Welcome to The Single Files. Each installment of Refinery29’s column features a personal essay that explores the unique joys and challenges of being single right now. Have your own idea you’d like to submit? Email single.files@vice.com.

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Outfit Details:
Wiggy Kit Top (old, similar here), Toteme Jeans

White denim is a favorite staple of mine to wear year-round, especially in the transitional months. Styling with tees, blouses, button downs, sandals and sneakers is what you will see me wearing right now. As early fall arrives, I’ll add light knits, cardigans, and jackets, keeping with sneakers, and adding more close-toed shoes. See my white denim edit below for a selection of styles that you will want to add to your closet.

Straight Leg Ankle Jeans

Style these straight leg cropped jeans with sandals now, and with leather booties in the fall season.

Button Up Ankle Jeans

This pair of cream colored denim features a five pocket button front, cropped ankle length, and the perfect vintage fit.

Wide Leg Cropped Jeans

These wide leg high waisted white jeans are a flattering option to wear with shorter tops, blouses and sweaters.

The post White Denim Edit appeared first on Julia Berolzheimer.