Barefaced: Born of Four Skincare

Why in the world would a storytelling studio disguised as a fashion house carry a skincare line it doesn't even make?

That's a very good question.

I've worn foundation since middle school. Not occasionally. Not just for special occasions. Practically every day, for decades.

I can trace that dependence back to a time in my childhood when I desperately needed to feel safe. Makeup became another layer of protection. Something I could control. A way to decide how the world would see me when so much else was beyond my control.

There was another layer to it, too.

Growing up mixed-race, I never felt Filipino enough to be Filipino or Caucasian enough to be Caucasian. I was born in Japan, spent part of my childhood in the Philippines, and grew up in America during a time when assimilation was the expectation.

I learned to fit in. Or at least to try.

And somewhere along the way, I began to believe that being pretty was one of the few things I had going for me.

So I worked at being pretty.

For a very long time.

But decades of healing have a way of changing what matters. I've spent years doing the difficult work of reconciling the different parts of my life, my relationships, and myself. I've learned that being vulnerable doesn't make me weak. That belonging doesn't require me to become someone else. And that my worth has absolutely nothing to do with how I look.

Knowing those things and living them, however, aren't always the same thing.

Then I saw that Mimi G was launching a skincare line called Born of Four.

I knew Mimi through her other work and admired the excellence she brings to what she creates. But what caught my attention wasn't just the skincare.

It was Mimi herself.

There she was on Instagram, in front of an enormous audience, completely barefaced.

I remember thinking, I could never do that.

And then, almost immediately, But I want to.

Something about that moment stayed with me. I ordered the products.

And oh, my goodness.

My skin loved them. The toner, the serum, the cream, the oil. The nourishment, the fragrance, the way the whole experience felt so grounding. There was something about that little ritual that reached beyond simply taking care of my face.

I loved using them.

And somewhere along the way, something rather extraordinary happened.

I started leaving the house without makeup.

Sometimes mascara. Maybe a little lip color.

Sometimes nothing at all.

Me. The woman who had worn foundation practically every day since middle school.

Now, to be fair, there had been a brief season when I'd gone without foundation before.

But it didn't last long. And the entire time, I was acutely aware that I wasn't wearing it.

This was different.

I wasn't thinking about what was missing.

Recently, I was getting ready for LoMa, the local makers market I organized. I would be there representing the House of Magsarili, welcoming guests, meeting people, taking pictures.


(Photo taken at LoMa with my friend Bethany)

While getting ready, I stood at my bathroom counter and considered putting on my makeup.

It would have been perfectly reasonable. Nobody would have thought twice about it.

But I realized that I was about to return to an old habit simply because people were going to see me.

For the first time in my life, I felt safe to let myself be seen.

So I went to my event wearing mascara and lipstick.
No foundation. Not a bit.

And I wasn't self-conscious.

I wasn't nervously wondering what people thought of my skin.

I was happy.

Actually, happy doesn't quite cover it.

I was giddy with joy.

I have waited a lifetime to feel that at home in my own skin.

Now, I would never suggest that a bottle of skincare accomplished what decades of healing, prayer, hard work, and more tears than I could possibly count had been doing.

But Born of Four came into my life at a beautiful moment in that journey. And caring for my skin became something I enjoyed rather than another exercise in making myself acceptable.

So why do I carry someone else's skincare?

Because Mimi has created something wonderful. She's a small business owner, and so am I. I don't need to learn everything she's learned or recreate what she's already done so well.

I can help another woman succeed.

I can introduce her work to people who might never encounter it through the sewing community.

And maybe, just maybe, another woman will discover the simple pleasure of caring for the skin she's in.

That's why you'll find Born of Four at the House of Magsarili.