Confession: I was an eyebrow over-plucker – and the lessons I learned reshaped far more than just my brow line.
If you were a teenager in the 1990s, you’ll remember the tyranny of the skinny brow. Pencil-thin arches weren’t just fashionable; they were mandatory. Unfortunately for me, my natural brows were thick, unruly and – in my teenage mind – deeply offensive. I watched in awe as my sister effortlessly carved out the perfect 90s arc with a few confident plucks, while I was left staring at my own caterpillar-esque situation.
Desperate to keep up, I went in hard. First came the “tadpole” phase: chunky at the front, alarmingly spindly at the tail. Then, fuelled by trend pressure and bad judgment, I kept tweezing until my brows were reduced to two ever-thinning lines. At the time, I felt smugly on-trend. In hindsight? A beauty crime scene.
As the years passed and trends shifted (thank you, Cara Delevingne), my over-plucking became the bane of my beauty routine. Sure, ultra-thin brows gave me a generous brow-to-eye gap – a youthful perk I clung to – but gravity eventually had other ideas. Now older, wiser and far more appreciative of fullness, I found myself yearning for lush, bushy brows… the very brows I’d permanently evicted in my teens.
Working as a magazine picture director meant I spent a lot of time on shoots, quizzing makeup artists whenever brows came up. When beauty legend Lisa Eldridge introduced me to the thickening magic of MAC brow pencil, it confirmed what I already suspected: I should have left well alone and trusted nature.
By 2019, microblading was everywhere – and I was convinced I’d found my fix. Full disclosure: it was horrific. Having pigment scratched into my brows was more painful than both my natural childbirths, and the results were deeply underwhelming. My brows still lacked fullness, the shape was slightly off, and worst of all, it didn’t age well.
Within months, my “semi-permanent” brows faded into a blurry, murky pink. As I later learned, the cooler tones disappear first, leaving behind an unflattering salmon hue. Not exactly the effortless brow glow-up I’d signed up for.
Fast-forward through a string of attempted fixes in my mid-40s, and I eventually landed on the hype surrounding brow growth serums. Could they really work on brows that had been overplucked into oblivion decades earlier – despite being marketed to women half my age?
In January this year, I committed to RevitaBrow Advanced Eyebrow Conditioner as a New Year’s resolution I was determined to stick to. Armed with biotin and blind optimism, I began a nightly application ritual.
The serum did work – just not where I wanted it to. Instead of filling in my sparse arches, new hairs sprouted underneath my brows. It wasn’t cute, but I persevered, concealing the rogue growth and hoping the gaps above would follow suit.
After four months of patience and minimal progress, I accepted defeat. I needed an expert. Enter Shavata Singh – the undisputed “Queen of Brows” – whose client list includes Adele, Victoria Beckham and Kate Hudson. If anyone could rescue my brows, it was her.
Shavata was kind but brutally honest. The new growth I’d worked so hard for? Useless. The hairs I actually needed? Long gone – casualties of years of overzealous tweezing (which, FYI, can permanently damage follicles). Her goal was clear: restore a youthful brow-to-eye expanse, which meant my under-brow growth had to go.
After 15 minutes of threading, waxing and tinting, the transformation was undeniable. “A facelift in 15 minutes,” she promised, and she wasn’t wrong.
Feeling emboldened, I decided to face my old nemesis once more: microblading. Shavata reassured me that pigments and techniques had come a long way – no more pink fade, no more wonky arches.
Two weeks later, I was back in the chair, numbing cream applied, brows meticulously mapped by expert practitioner Cody. It was still painful (let’s not pretend otherwise), but the process was swift, and watching my new brows emerge was genuinely thrilling. They framed my face beautifully and, crucially, looked natural.
A six-week top-up fine-tuned the shape and shade, and while I didn’t exactly enjoy the pigment refresh, the final result made it worth every wince.
Microblading in 2024 is still not a spa experience, but the results are worlds away from my first attempt. My brows are fuller, more symmetrical, natural-looking – and my brow-to-eye margin is back.
For the first time in decades, my brows actually look like they belong on my face. They’re still my brows, just better polished. My confidence has soared, and the compliments haven’t stopped.
Yes, I’ll need to refresh them every 9–12 months, and yes, I’ll be back. The pain is absolutely worth the gain.
But this journey wasn’t just about brows. It reshaped how I think about beauty altogether. Instead of chasing trends, I’ve learned to work with my features, not against them. And that, I’ve realised, is the truest glow-up of all: self-acceptance.
Microblading at Shavata Singh’s salons in London costs from £800.
Best anti-ageing brow makeup
Beauty Director Lynne has spent the past two decades testing and reviewing the latest in everything from skincare and aesthetics to spas, fragrance and makeup. When she's not being a human guinea pig she loves to immerse herself in a deep bath, a good book and large glass of iced rosé.


























