Three Generations of Women, One Love of Beauty

The Women Before Me

My late maternal grandmother on the left, my mama in the middle, and me on the right. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

Summer break in Pakistan is not what it used to be when I was a kid. Ever since the passing of my late maternal grandmother two and a half years ago, visiting Lahore during the muggy July heat has never been the same.

When I am back home in the United States, I feel perfectly fine, like nothing has changed. But every time I enter her home in Lahore, I feel nostalgic for my childhood, which now exists only in my memories.

In my head, I always try to keep my Nano’s memory alive. So naturally, the other day, I was missing her deeply. I decided to pull out the family photo albums. I wanted to feel her presence, even if only through pictures.

My beautiful Nano circa late 80’s—early 90’s lahore, Pakistan. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

Every photograph I came across left me speechless. I always knew my Nano was beautiful, stylish, and incredibly fashionable throughout her life. But I never realized she had truly been the it girl of her generation

My nano doing her cousins makeup for a wedding. Lahore, Pakistan circa 1970’s. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

My nano in a stunning cherry red shalwar kameez, and a bright red lip. Posing at a wedding in Karachi, Pakistan circa late 90’s. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

My Nano at her Walima at the International Hotel in Lahore Circa April 1973. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

My mama, my grandmother’s daughter, has always been obsessed with makeup, skincare, and beauty for as long as I can remember. She is even a trained makeup artist and licensed esthetician at the Studio Skin Lounge.

My mother right after wedding. Lahore, Pakistan. Circa winter’s 2001. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

When I was younger, I distinctly remember watching my mother get ready with such attention to detail and precision. She was always the girl with the newest makeup products, the niche skincare finds, and the homemade face mask remedies she swore by.

Whenever I watched my mama get ready in the morning or before a formal event, I would ask if all that makeup was really necessary and whether I should ever learn how to do it myself. She would always tell me, “Ayro, makeup is one of the most powerful tools you can use. It enhances your features, allows you to express your personality, and gives you confidence. Every woman should know how to do her makeup.”

My mama, and nano at my Khala’s wedding in Lahore, Pakistan circa December 2013. (Image Credit: Ayra Rafiq).

Me and my mother at a mother-daughter photoshoot circa May 2020. (Image Credit: Ayra Rafiq).

My mother at a work event, circa November2021. (Image Credit: Ayra Rafiq).

At the time, I never fully understood what she meant. Looking back now, some of my earliest memories are not of family vacations or birthdays. They are of watching women get ready.

Watching my Nano carefully apply her MAC lipstick before guests arrived for afternoon tea. Watching my mother stand in front of the bathroom mirror testing out her latest Neiman Marcus beauty counter finds. Watching makeup bags spill over with foundations, blushes, powders, perfumes, and brushes that somehow all seemed to have a story attached to them.

Now, years later, I catch myself doing the exact same thing. I know my love for beauty did not start with me. I inherited it.

We often talk about passing down family recipes, jewelry, and traditions. We rarely talk about passing down beauty. But maybe we should, because beauty rituals are their own kind of inheritance.

My Nano belonged to a generation where makeup was never about chasing trends. It was about looking polished. A swipe of lipstick before leaving the house was never vanity. It was about presenting yourself with care. She did not need twenty different blushes or the latest viral product. She knew what worked for her and stayed loyal to it.

My mama grew up in a different era, one where beauty counters became destinations, magazines dictated trends, and makeup became a little more experimental. There was still a sense of timelessness, but there was also curiosity. She taught me that beauty could be fun, not just functional.

Then there is my generation.

The generation that has more options than the ones before us. Sephora trips feel like pilgrimages. We spend hours watching tutorials on TikTok and YouTube from people we will probably never meet. We know the difference between satin and matte finishes. We can identify a product by its packaging alone and somehow convince ourselves that one more lip gloss will finally complete the collection.

It never does. I have a billion sheer, glittery drugstore lip glosses tucked away in every makeup pouch I own.

Beauty has become an entire ecosystem. There are new launches every week, influencer and celebrity collaborations, must have products, and trends that disappear before you even have a chance to decide whether you like them.

And somehow, I still love it.

Not because makeup makes me feel more beautiful. Not because I believe I need it. But because beauty has always felt creative to me.

Me going out for dinner November 2025. (Image Credit: Ayra Rafiq). Washington, D.C. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

Me on my 23rd birthday. April 2026. Washington D..C.(Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

Me at my university graduation May 2026. (Image credit: Ayra Rafiq).

There is something calming about opening a makeup bag, choosing a lipstick that matches your mood, blending eyeshadow just because you feel like it, or finding a perfume that reminds you of a particular season of your life.

It is one of the few hobbies that asks nothing of you except to enjoy the process.

Because it was never just about the makeup.

It was the conversations that happened while someone curled your hair. The lipstick recommendations exchanged across a bathroom counter. The perfume your mother insists suits you better than the one you picked The moment your grandmother tells you that a little lipstick can brighten your whole face.

Beauty becomes the backdrop for so many ordinary moments that eventually become extraordinary memories.

Looking back, I do not remember the exact products they used. I do not remember the shade names or the brands.

I remember the rituals.I remember the confidence that seemed to appear the moment lipstick touched their lips. I remember borrowing makeup before I was old enough to wear it.

I remember learning that getting ready was never just about looking nice. It was about taking a few quiet moments for yourself before stepping out into the world.

Maybe that is why I still love beauty today.

Not because I think everyone should wear makeup. Not because I think beauty should define women. But for me, it has always represented something much bigger than appearance.

It reminds me of the women who came before me.

Three generations. Three completely different lives. Three different definitions of beauty.

And yet, somehow, we all found ourselves standing in front of a mirror, reaching for lipstick, and carrying on the same quiet tradition without ever realizing we were passing it down.