Just like hair frames our face, brows frame our eyes. I see so

Hear the voice of Michelle Phan, who speaks not only of cosmetics but of vision: “Just like hair frames our face, brows frame our eyes. I see so much potential in harmonized beauty whenever I see a woman who’s not filling in her brows, and I just want to go in with my brow pencil and just be like, ‘Filling in eyebrows, OK, done—look in the mirror and be inspired.’ That’s one of my pet peeves, but beauty is subjective.” Though she speaks in the language of modern artistry, her wisdom reaches into the very heart of how humans perceive themselves, how small details can reveal or conceal the harmony of the whole.

She begins by declaring that hair frames the face and brows frame the eyes. This is no trivial statement, for it recognizes the architecture of beauty, the truth that our features are not isolated but interwoven. Just as a temple is defined not only by its columns but by the symmetry of its proportions, so the human countenance is elevated not only by its central features but by the subtle framing that surrounds them. The brows—those arches above the eyes—are not merely decoration, but guardians of expression, anchors of identity, frames of the soul’s window.

Phan sees in this framing the possibility of transformation. When she notices a woman who has not attended to her brows, she perceives not lack, but potential. With but a stroke of the pencil, the harmony of the face may awaken, and the woman, gazing upon herself anew, may find inspiration. This is not vanity—it is the recognition of the power of detail, of how even small acts of care can elevate the spirit, turning self-doubt into self-confidence.

The ancients knew this truth. In Egypt, both men and women darkened their eyes and shaped their brows with kohl, believing that beauty was not mere ornament but a reflection of divine order. In Greece, the pursuit of symmetry was not frivolous but philosophical, for beauty was seen as the mirror of truth. Even in the East, from India to China, the shaping of the face with lines and powders carried meaning beyond appearance—it was ritual, art, and identity interwoven.

Yet, in her wisdom, Phan does not forget humility. “Beauty is subjective,” she says, acknowledging that what to one is essential may to another be indifferent. This humility softens her pet peeve, reminding us that while she sees potential in filled brows, others may find beauty in natural simplicity. Thus she reminds us that the pursuit of beauty must never become tyranny, that self-expression is as sacred as symmetry.

The lesson here is profound: the smallest details matter, not because they conform to law, but because they can inspire transformation. A single adjustment may shift not only how we appear, but how we feel. Yet at the same time, we must honor diversity, remembering that subjectivity lies at the core of human expression. What awakens one soul may not stir another, and true beauty lies in the freedom to choose.

Practically, this means: take care with details in your own life, not only in your face but in all things. A word spoken kindly, a gesture made with thought, a corner of your home kept in harmony—these are like the brows, small frames that shape the larger picture. And yet, temper this care with respect for others. Do not impose your frame upon their canvas. Inspire, yes—but also honor their choice.

Therefore, O seekers of balance, let Michelle Phan’s words guide you. Just as hair frames the face and brows frame the eyes, so do details frame the essence of our lives. Attend to them with care, for in them lies the power of transformation. Yet remember always: beauty is subjective, and harmony is born not only of symmetry, but of freedom.