Kids. These. Days. They are creative, I will give them that. You guys know that I am all about Oreo innovation, but beauty vlogger Katherine of xxmakeupiscoolxx has really taken things to another level by hacking (is that the right word or is it decimating?) America's favorite cookie and transforming it into mascara.
Look Katherine, we all like to incorporate Oreos into our various beauty routines, but this is a little absurd.
Besides the obvious health concerns (eye infections and maybe corneal abrasions), this doesn't make a lot of fiscal sense. Mascara is what, seven dollars at Target? And that Smashbox primer you're mixing with cookie crumbs is around $40 if I'm not mistaken? I don't know. I don't buy Smashbox anymore. I buy Baby Skin, Katherine. Because Baby Skin (like perfectly good drugstore mascara) is seven dollars.
Anyway, I appreciate your ingenuity, but I kind of feel like you're punking us. "Punking" means "to play a trick on," Katherine. You probably didn't know that because it comes from a show made popular by Ashton Kutcher that aired before you were born. (I'm not sure when you were born. I'm bad at guessing kid/teenage ages; you could be 12 or 17. I have no idea.)
But this really puts me in a bind because I recently declared myself "Leading Oreo Journalist of My Generation." Obviously, I have a (self-appointed) responsibility to investigate the claims you're making. The Oreo mascara looks great on you, but you're a beauty vlogger! Will this trick work for a beauty-inept food writer/stunt person?
Let's find out. (But, like, nobody else try this. This is a terrible idea, and I'm doing it so no one else has to. Don't be like me.)
I gathered all the supplies I would need. It should be noted the total cost was just shy of $13. For $13, I can buy a decent mascara and a not-so-decent bottle of wine. (Though you should skip the wine and just get a really decent mascara.)
Fun fact: It is cheaper to buy a little thing of Nivea Creme and throw out the creme than it is to buy a cute little tin. Don't worry, I smeared most of it on my feet, so it wasn't a total waste.
Anyway. I sanitized the tin with rubbing alcohol as you suggested, though it seemed like an odd step to take in making what is essentially an eye infection starter kit. Instead of crushing my Oreos with a spoon, I used a food processor. You know how I was able to buy this food processor? I used the money I saved by not mixing all of my expensive primer with Oreo crumbs.
After pulverizing, I added the water and primer as you instructed, but I couldn't help but think that a silicone primer was a strange substrate for mascara, as silicone isn't known for sticking to things.
It seemed a little clumpy, but overall the consistency was close to that of actual mascara. I really liked the color. Like Oreos themselves, the mascara was somewhere between brown and black, which is great if your eyes are brown like mine.
Then it was the moment of truth. For reference, here are my straight, downward sloping lashes, free of any mascara, Oreo or otherwise:
It was very difficult to get this stuff to stick to my lashes. I'm guessing it was all of that silicone, but it kept sliding off with the brush. I eventually got some to adhere by glopping it on and wiggling the brush back and forth, but the results were very clumpy and messy. As it dried, bits of cookie gunk began to fall, and I feared for my vision.
Perhaps I did something wrong. Maybe I'm the problem. I searched Twitter using the supplied hashtag (#xxmakeupiscoolxx) to see if the kids at home were having better luck.
I found a lot of articles talking about how outrageous the whole "Oreo mascara" premise is, but no pictures of anyone having success with it in real life. I did however, find your DIY Taco Bell Doritos Locos Taco video with the Fall Out Boy/Panic at the Disco soundtrack, which I find to be a much more helpful video, if I'm being honest.
So overall, Katherine, I'm not totally sure what the point of your DIY Oreo mascara tutorial was, unless it was to get more views on your YouTube channel and trick dopes like me into smearing sugary cookies around their eyes.
Well played, kid. Well played.