1 Days When My Steps Feel Light

While organizing old files in the cloud, I stumbled upon my job application. Inside was a familiar question: “What do you think beauty that changes the world means?” It wasn’t the kind of question I’d ever expected to encounter in an interview.

This is how I answered back then:
“Everyone looks in the mirror. On days when we’re pleased with what we see, our steps become strangely light and buoyant. Beauty standards differ from person to person, but at least being satisfied with yourself—that’s what I believe beauty is. I want to come to this company with those light steps, and I want to help make our customers’ steps a little lighter too.”

“Wanting to commute with light steps...”
Though I wrote these words years ago, I couldn’t help but chuckle when I read them.
The truth is, I dragged my feet on the way to work this very morning.

After that moment of reflection, I found myself wondering: Am I living the “beautiful life” that my younger self envisioned?

It’s not simply that commuting is tiring or that work is busy. I’ve gradually come to realize that being completely satisfied with who I am today is more complicated than I thought.
When I think I’m doing well enough, comparing myself to others makes me feel inadequate. When I try not to compare, I’m suddenly anxious that I’m becoming too complacent. With my head full of these distracting thoughts, I often find myself staring into tired eyes in the mirror.

2 Please come to work without makeup tomorrow.

“Please come to work without makeup tomorrow and help test my product.”
This is the message I leave in our team chat before heading home.

I thought working at a beauty company would naturally mean dressing well and always having flawless makeup. But reality was different. To test products, you need to come to work without makeup. There are far too many times when I have to try products that aren’t my style. While my hands might get a break on weekends, my face rarely does. To test long wear, products need to stay on the skin for eight hours under observation. Time is always short. After cleansing and reapplying multiple times a day, I sometimes feel like my face might peel off.

“Oh... could you possibly try this just once?”

Asking a colleague who’s already wearing makeup to remove it and test something new is difficult for me, too. I hesitate for a while, feeling sorry, but when deadlines get tight, I inevitably have to ask.
And on days when colleagues test products, our office becomes practically a laboratory.
“Sorry, but could you apply this to just half your face today?”
“Or could you divide it into quarters and compare different versions?”

That’s how the facial “territory game” begins.
Version A on the left, Version B on the right, Version C (in a different color) on the chin, and a competitor’s target product on the forehead. Even though they’re busy too, my colleagues quietly accommodate these requests. They’ll even grab cleansing foam, saying they’ll wash their face and properly reapply everything to give better feedback. At the end of the day, we look at each other’s faces and have conversations like, “This side seems to cake less today.” Just as “it takes a village to raise a child,” making a single product requires the warm help of everyone around us.

3 The Impossible Mission of Pleasing Everyone

How wonderful it would be if the products we work so hard to test and launch could be loved by everyone. But reality doesn’t work that way. The same formula feels dry to some and greasy to others. What lacks coverage on one face is just right on another.

That’s why we define our target audience and develop strategies tailored to it accordingly. We need to determine which type of person will love this product—without this framework, a formula never truly reaches “completion.”

While this simple truth makes perfect sense intellectually, it often proves difficult and disheartening in daily practice.

After countless revisions, we drift further from our original design direction. After deliberating day after day, I eventually find myself saying, “I honestly don’t know anymore.”
When someone says they like a product, I feel as if I’ve conquered the world. But a single “it’s not great” can immediately deflate me.
Perhaps that’s why I’m so grateful for every warm review customers leave.
“I really put a lot of thought into this part, so thank you for noticing.”
Or “Oh, I was hoping to keep this detail subtle, but you caught it...”

Sometimes I quietly feel proud, thinking, “Yes, I knew someone like this would appreciate it!”
How do some customers manage to leave such sweet reviews?
“My life is divided into before and after this product.”
“This is truly a masterpiece.”
“I hope you make lots of money from this...”

Comments like these make me feel satisfied, as if I’ve had a full meal, even if I’m not actually making as much money as they hope. Though I rarely leave reviews myself when I buy products, reading these comments makes me think the world might be filled with kinder people than I realized. These gentle words that wouldn’t have been written if they were trying to earn points—they wrap around my exhausting days like a warm embrace.

4 Perhaps These Are Beautiful Days

Recently, I watched the film Perfect Days. It’s about the simple daily routine of a man who cleans public restrooms in Tokyo.

He wakes up at the same time every day, walks the same path, listens to the same songs, and does the same work. In many ways, it’s just the simple routine of cleaning dirty bathrooms day after day.

But within that repetition, he discovers his small beauty, creating his perfect day through daily sunlight, the shadows of leaves, and gentle music. His ability to find small happiness in everyday life, taking pride and responsibility in his work while quietly repeating each day, stayed with me long after the film ended.

The ‘beauty’ I wrote about in my job application years ago might indeed look different from what I experience now. These days might be more weathered and harried than I had imagined, living in a constant state of barely keeping up.

Even so, looking back on today, I realize something.
My life is still permeated with the warm help and kind words of those around me, and I, too, am doing work that brings small joys to others.

Even on days when I work frantically with a tired face, the fact that these efforts of mine can collectively bring someone happiness—this fact gives me a quiet confidence that I’m living well.
It makes me softly realize that the struggles of these daily routines haven’t been in vain.