Makeup artist Bobbi Brown has taken on the beauty world and conquered it, not just once, but twice. After building her namesake cosmetics brand into a global phenomenon, she went one to found Jones Road, the pared-back beauty brand redefining “no-makeup-makeup" for a new generation.
Now, in her new memoir, Still Bobbi Stories of authenticity, resilience and reinvention from the iconic entrepreneur (£16, Bloomsbury Publishing, amazon.co.uk), Brown reflects on her life lessons, pivots, and the people that shared in her journey. “I was never planning to write a memoir,” she says. “At first I thought it would just be about entrepreneurship and being a working mom. But once I started writing, it became much more…I went back to the very beginning and told my whole story. The good, the bad, and all of the in-betweens.”
What she discovered in the process was a more complex story — about curiosity, resilience and the endless potential for reinvention. “Success isn’t one-size-fits-all,” Brown says. “Each time I’ve pivoted — leaving my namesake brand, launching a hotel, becoming a health coach, or building Jones Road — I’ve realised that your identity is never tied to one thing. Curiosity, adaptability, and authenticity matter more than titles. The truth is, you can start over at any point, and sometimes those pivots lead you to the most powerful chapters of your life.”
In the exclusive chapter from the book below we meet Aunt Alice, who — alongside Brown’s mother — helped to sow the seeds of her “no-makeup-makeup philosophy" and lifelong approach to beauty.
Then there’s Aunt Alice.
I adored my mom and was proud that she was my mother, but I often felt more like Aunt Alice’s daughter than my mother’s daughter.
Aunt Alice didn’t care about the same things my mother did. She kept her hair short, didn’t wear a lot of makeup, and wore flat shoes and comfortable clothes.
At my house we talked about appearances. At her house we talked about life. My house was the perfect shoes. Her house was the fuzzy slippers. These two forces—glamorous mom and practical Aunt Alice—sowed the seeds for the invention of no-makeup makeup, and my career.
Aunt Alice lived just down the road, and I was there a lot. It was joy from the second you walked in: music downstairs, people jumping in the pool, a table full of snacks. We’d go swimming, and then I’d put on one of her handmade towel robes, and we’d sit around with a big bowl of ice cream watching television. I could never eat a bowl of ice cream in my own house. Everything at Aunt Alice’s was about being comfortable in your own skin.
If she was like a second mother to me, her daughter Barbara was like a sister. Being around them gave me a sense of stability, especially during my parents’ divorce. When I was having a tough time,I would go over to Aunt Alice’s and everything would disappear.
In a more subtle way, Aunt Alice also influenced my marriage — or at least my idea of what marriage could be. I was lucky enough to watch her love affair with Uncle Albert, which lasted more than sixty years.
They reminded me of Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. They were so close, you never saw Al without Alice. Like Papa Sam, Uncle Al had a dealership, with sixty-eight employees spread across three locations. This allowed Aunt Alice to work with him while her kids were in school and still come home at two thirty and put an apron on, and her kids would never know she was gone. When Uncle Al died, the rabbi at his funeral said, “I usually give a eulogy, but today I’m going to tell a love story.”
Through the years, Aunt Alice and I have grown even closer. Our conversations are filled with common sense advice, and she often settles me down and gives me a fresh perspective on whatever it is I’m complaining about. She’s also been an inspiration at work. I’ve made and named many beauty products in her honor, from lipstick to perfume. I even named one lipstick Party Alice.
Now in her nineties, Aunt Alice remains the embodiment of my concept that natural and comfortable is beautiful. She is strong, funny and brilliant. She has more common sense than anyone I have ever met. When she says, “Look . . . ” I pay attention, because I know I’m going to get some major advice. She is relentlessly positive. Her eyes light up when she talks about how happy she is, even after losing the love of her life. She taught me that it’s what you do after the hard times that makes you strong. I value her advice so much, I even started a series when I was beauty editor at Yahoo called “Ask Aunt Alice,” where we got a chance to share her wisdom with the world.
A few choice nuggets:
Plastic surgery: “I would never do it. I had one friend who did her neck, it cost her thirteen thousand dollars, she said it was the most painful thing she’d ever done, and a few years later, it all fell down.”
Makeup: “Very little.”
Beauty philosophy: “It’s nice to put makeup on, but I think everybody is beautiful. Everybody has something about them that’s beautiful. Inner beauty is so important.”
Beauty advice: “Keep your face clean and moisturize.”
Health: “Too many people look for the magic pill.”
Happiness: “I’ve always seen the cup as half-full. If you’re unhappy, find out what’s causing it and see if you can do something about it. Aside from illness, there’s nothing you can’t find a way to fix.”
That’s Aunt Alice. As a result, it’s also very much me. Her outlook on life influenced me as a child. It stuck with me as a young adult. It set the tone for my work as a makeup artist and brand creator, as well as a wife and mother. It still guides me today.
This is an extract from Still Bobbi: Stories of authenticity, resilience and reinvention from the iconic entrepreneur (£16, Bloomsbury Publishing, amazon.co.uk)
