Makeup is no longer associated with women only, and more and more men are embracing it. In fact, by accentuating facial features and hiding blemishes, makeup can actually make men look more masculine. And it’s not just for actors, as men of all ages and backgrounds are starting to see the benefits of wearing makeup.
It increases attractiveness in men.
More and more men are starting to wear makeup, and a recent study aimed to find out if it can positively affect men’s appearance. A makeup artist applied subtle makeup on a group of men, the participants were then photographed, and the images were rated based on attractiveness. The results showed that the male faces were rated as more attractive when wearing makeup compared to when not wearing makeup.
It makes men look more masculine.
While a beard can change any man’s face, making it more masculine, makeup can do the job almost as well. Researchers have found that makeup increases lower facial contrast, making a face look more masculine.
Makeup can enhance the facial structure.
Any woman knows that masterfully applied makeup can change your look, but men can also benefit from concealers and facial powders. Makeup affects how we perceive men’s bone structure and makes male faces more attractive.
Bonus: Dwayne Johnson on wearing makeup
Just like regular people, celebrities often wear makeup on set or during photoshoots. Dwayne Johnson, one of the most muscular actors in Hollywood, proudly shared on his Instagram account how his little daughters transformed him using makeup. “I haven’t seen myself in the mirror yet, but if I look as cool as I feel right now, then I’m winning, baby,” the father-of-three wrote.
Preview photo credit adamlambert / Instagram, adamlambert / Instagram
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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