The Beauty Face-Off

By NADYA LABI

A leather high chair framed by a white umbrella and chrome mirrors stands empty at Sephora, the hippest cosmetics store in New York City. A sign discreetly advises, SEPHORA MAKEUP ARTISTS ARE ALWAYS AVAILABLE FOR COMPLIMENTARY CONSULTATIONS, but the customers prefer to play in the aisles. In this Art Deco universe, all cosmetics are created equal. Witness the beauty behemoth Estee Lauder occupying the same space as stylish newcomers like BeneFit and Urban Decay. And despite the abundance of salespeople in black pantsuits and single black gloves, supervision is minimal. "I know what I'm looking for, so this works for me," says Elisa Lee, 25, of the hands-off approach.

Beauty has gone back to basics. In the U.S.'s $16 billion cosmetics industry, you don't need supermodels like Cindy Crawford. You don't need to ply customers with giveaways. And with the advent of the Web and stores like Sephora, you don't need counter space at Saks or Macy's. The business of beauty, that most undemocratic phenomenon, has been made over by boutique companies offering such offbeat products as transdermal vitamin C patches (Osmotics), Saint-John's-wort lipstick (Tony & Tina) and shimmery body powder (BeneFit).

A little history for the fashion deprived. In the beginning, there were a few industry giants like Lauder, Revlon and L'Oreal in a wasteland of dull, uniform colors. Then, in 1985, a Canadian makeup artist, Frank Toskan, exploded the spectrum with MAC, an edgy line that became such a success that Lauder bought the company in 1994. Fluke? In 1990 a New York-based makeup artist, Bobbi Brown, scraped together $10,000 to start her own minimalist line, which Lauder also snapped up. In 1995 a 22-year-old premed student, Dineh Mohajer, mixed nail polish to match a pair of light blue sandals, kicking off Hard Candy and a craze for pastel lacquers. The upstarts keep coming--makeup-artist lines such as Laura Mercier and Stila; New Agey innovators such as Philosophy and Tony & Tina--almost faster than stores can stock them. Together they capture a relatively small share of the market, but their quirky products and hip attitude influence everyone. Concedes Leonard (son of Estee) Lauder: "No one wants her mother's makeup."

What daughters want is pretty packaging, a funky color--and the feeling that the product was created just for them. The Manhattan-based Tony & Tina hawks a $10 nail polish in a bottle that looks like a rocket. Philosophy, founded by skin-care clinician Cristina Carlino, prefers to look inward for inspiration. Each of its products offers a self-help homily. Soul Owner, for example, encourages the consumer to "review your only true assets. You own your values, your integrity." (Not bad advice, though it comes from an exfoliating foot cream.) San Francisco's BeneFit, a specialty store that began selling by catalog four years ago, is less earnest but just as zany. The company weighs in with Glamazon, a liquid bronzer that features a bikini-clad Jane swinging on a vine and an $18 jar of "Touch Me Then Try to Leave..." cream.

These companies are surviving, and thriving, on word of mouth. Since they can't afford huge advertising spreads in Vogue or prime real estate at big department stores, they vie for the attention of magazine editors, Hollywood stars and other buzzmakers. Drew Barrymore probably did more for Hard Candy's Glitter Eye by wearing it to the 1998 Oscars than Elizabeth Hurley has ever done for Estee Lauder.

It helps that women now shop for cosmetics differently. "Young women loathe department stores--the whole system of waiting at the counter, having to get someone's attention," says Charla Krupp, an editor at Glamour magazine. Today's consumers prefer to grab a lipstick at Victoria's Secret or a boutique store, or to shop online. Nearly 25 new cosmetics websites have been launched this fall. Even the mass-market retailers are taking their cue from the indies. Sears has just introduced T.i.m.e. (The Instant Makeup Expert), a $20 color-coordinated kit; and Target is relying on Sonia Kashuk, Cindy Crawford's makeup artist, for cachet. At the other end of the market, Terry de Gunzburg, a French makeup artist, offers $76 lipsticks and compacts for up to $144.

There's room for all in today's democracy of beauty. Carrying a shopping basket with the trademark Sephora squiggle, Elisa Lee totes around flame-colored nail-polish remover by Tony & Tina. The week before, she bought Decleor makeup remover. She confesses, "I like the instant-gratification thing."

--With reporting by Maureen Harrington/Denver

With reporting by Maureen Harrington/Denver