If you’ve been feeling like your dollars aren’t stretching the way they used to — you’re not imagining it. Quietly, and without an official headline, we’re living through what many economists are calling a micro recession. And just like in 2008, the beauty industry — particularly among Black consumers — is shifting, adapting, and showing its resilience in real time.
I started noticing the patterns: clients spacing out appointments a bit more, opting for practical glam over elaborate transformations, and prioritizing treatments that last. But what stood out most was the déjà vu. This isn’t the first time we’ve danced with a downturn — and if history repeats itself, Black beauty consumers will once again lead the cultural and financial pivots in how beauty is consumed, valued, and sustained.
In this post, I dive into what’s happening beneath the surface — from lipstick index behavior to the rise of DIY beauty, the resilience of Black spending power, and what beauty professionals can do to not just survive but thrive through this next economic wave.
Because yes, things are shifting. But with the right strategy, awareness, and intentionality, your business doesn’t have to shrink. It can evolve.
Reality dating shows like Love Island sell us more than steamy drama and Instagram-worthy bodies — they subtly rewire how we view love, self-worth, and even marriage. I used to watch for the fun of it. The fashion, the flirting, the “who’s coupled up this week?” But over time, I started noticing something deeper — and more unsettling.
The show became less about connection and more about competition. Love turned into a game. Vulnerability was a strategy. And the moment someone showed genuine emotion, they were either labeled “too much” or “too weak.” These weren’t just plotlines. These were distorted archetypes of how love and partnership are portrayed in today’s media — and it's affecting how we relate to ourselves and others offline.
As I watched these characters become caricatures, I began asking harder questions: How many of us are unconsciously performing in our real relationships, trying to appear “unbothered” or “low maintenance”? How often are we chasing the fantasy version of love, instead of building the kind that's rooted in soul connection, spiritual alignment, and emotional maturity?
This post isn’t just a critique — it’s a call to remember what’s real. Love isn’t a game. It’s not content. It’s a covenant.
I used to think burnout was something that happened to people who didn’t love what they do. But no one warns you that burnout can creep in because you love it — so much so that you stop protecting your peace, your time, and your body.
I said yes to everyone. Every early morning booking, every last-minute “emergency” appointment, every text at 10 PM asking for hair advice, makeup tips, or availability they could’ve found on the website I built myself. I was constantly available, constantly producing, constantly pouring… and barely receiving.
I thought being “booked and busy” meant I was successful. But in reality, I was tired, short-fused, and emotionally tapped out. I missed birthdays. I skipped meals. I’d finish a 10-hour day, come home to my kids, and have nothing left in my tank.
Looking back, I realize I wasn’t just exhausted — I was disconnected from myself. I didn’t know how to rest. I didn’t know how to say, “That’s enough for today.” And I definitely didn’t know how to set a boundary without feeling guilty.
Burnout didn’t come in a blaze. It came in waves. Subtle, silent signs that I ignored until I was standing in my salon one day, looking at a full schedule — and feeling absolutely nothing.
This post isn’t about blaming myself. It’s about seeing myself clearly now — and telling the truth so another woman doesn’t have to learn the hard way.
The beauty world felt a shift when Ami Colé announced it would be closing this fall. For me, this wasn’t just “another brand shutting down.” This was personal.
Ami Colé was more than skincare and lip oil. It was heart, heritage, and home. It was a beautiful reminder that melanin-rich beauty deserves luxury too. And knowing that its founder, Diarrha N’Diaye-Mbaye, named the brand after her mother made it even more special. So when I read her open letter in The Cut, I felt the weight. Her words weren’t just about business—they were about identity, sacrifice, and legacy.
When I first started doing hair professionally, I was scared to say my price out loud. I wanted to be agreeable, affordable, and booked—but deep down, I was shrinking. I didn’t factor in my time, energy, or even my product costs. I was just hoping the number felt “safe.”
But low prices brought high stress—and clients who didn’t value what I brought to the table.
In this post, I’m sharing the mindset shift that helped me start charging with confidence, clarity, and intention. If you’ve ever felt nervous to raise your rates or feared what people would say… this one’s for you.
👉🏽 Read the full post inside Behind the Chic
In high school, I started doing my peers’ hair. I was passionate, talented, and still figuring things out. Doing hair in the basement of my mommy’s house. But what I didn’t realize was that just because I had a gift didn’t mean people would automatically respect it. One of the first people to teach me that lesson was a guy I went to school with. He will remain unnamed in this case. He had hounded me down for weeks to do his locs multiple times, and one day I accepted his appointment request—he decided to skip out on paying me. Just like that.
