Fara Homidi makes me want to get ready slowly

In an industry addicted to dopamine drops and endless launches, this brand actually made me feel something.

When I was a pre-teen, I used to read beauty magazines like they were sacred texts—dog-eared issues of my mom’s Allure and Glamour, borrowed copies of Jane and Teen from my cousins, scattered across my bedroom floor, offering instructions not just for frosty eyeshadow, but for how to be a real adult woman in the world.

Back then, beauty was play. It let me experiment with who I was becoming—without fear, comparison, or even knowing what it meant to “age.” I didn’t think about forehead lines or collagen production. I just wanted to become her: the woman in the city with a signature lip, hailing a cab, prancing toward a life full of shimmery possibility.

Now, I am her—or at least some version of her. Beauty is still play, but the palette has changed. After years of experimenting, I know what I like. Sure, I love a cheap thrill, but what moves me now is efficacy, elegance, sensory delight. The compact that clicks shut with a satisfying weight. The scent of a memory I haven’t lived yet, but already miss. Even a drugstore lip liner becomes a portal to memory and meaning.

This is my Beauty Diary—part mirror, part archive, part emotional support shopping list. It’s where I reflect on the textures, rituals, and stories behind the things I invite onto my skin—and into my nervous system.

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Fara Homidi Essential Face Compact in Beurre, $88

This compact feels like a weighty little treasure in your palm—like a cigarette case from a 1960s heiress who only eats grapefruit. It’s refillable, which makes it feel less like makeup and more like a collectible object—and also helps justify the price (which “ain’t cheap, but neither are you” to quote my friend, Nam Vo).

And the product itself? The coverage is skin-like but better, and the highlight gives me that expensive summer in Europe finish I always assumed was genetic. It’s also a far better experience to open a chic compact instead of your front-facing phone camera to touch up your makeup after dinner.

Since launching in spring 2023, Fara Homidi has released just a few essentials—each one deliberate, refined, and thoughtfully timed. But what really got me was Fara herself. She’s the real deal—decades as a makeup artist in the fashion world collaborating with the most in-demand photographers, working backstage with runway models, and now channeling all that high-fashion minimalism into a curated selection of products. You can tell this was designed by someone who understands the face in motion, not just in front of a ring light.

Fara calls the concept behind her brand “slow beauty”—a perfect contrast to the current wave of overstimulation in the industry. In a recent Business of Fashion podcast episode, beauty was declared to be in its “flop era”—a saturated space flooded with micro-launches designed to mimic the dopamine hits of our algorithms. But despite its reputation as a recession-proof category, sales are slumping. Turns out, you can’t build longevity off of chaos.

Fara Homidi stands out because she’s not chasing that chaos. Her brand is built with restraint, intention, and the kind of quality that’s been missing from beauty’s recent glut of launches. It’s precise, elevated, and actually inspiring—a rare thing to say in this era of endless newness.

And still—whatever she’s about to drop next (my guess is bronzer?), I’m all in. When something’s designed with this much attention, you can trust the follow-up.