Julie Schott’s Crystal Ball

In July 2012, I met Julie Schott at Hearst’s new-employee orientation; it was the first day at Elle for both of us. She was a gorgeous, shy 24-year-old beauty editor, and I was a wizened 28-year-old features editor. We both had plenty to prove. Now, a dozen-plus years later, she’s a gorgeous, shy beauty mogul with absolutely zero to prove, having co-founded the blockbuster, culture-shifting acne-but-make-it-fashion brand Starface in 2019 and the boldly eponymous morning-after pill, Julie, in 2022. (In case you’re wondering: I am still a features editor.)

What was clear back then (and continues to be evident) is that behind those anime-size green eyes was a superpower for understanding youth and Internet culture and translating it for a wide audience. Chief among her prescient insights: that younger women (and men) were fed up with the constant dance to masquerade as perfect, that this cohort was ready to embrace their flaws and speak frankly about their physical shortcomings and aspirations. Instead of trying to hide a zit, for example, why not dress it up with a playful, shiny, star-shaped hydrocolloid patch? I called up Julie to get her soothsayer’s perspective on our current out-of-the-closet beauty moment — from Gen Z’s attitudes to the face du jour to why today’s 20-somethings need their own emergency contraception brand. Plus: a master class in how not to get pigeonholed as a girlboss.

Hi, Julie! It’s been forever.

I know, but you look the same.

You do too. If I look at all the same, it’s because I’ve been working on Bustle’s Vanity Project and I’ve done a lot to my face.

Really? What have you done? I want to do it.

I got so much Dysport a week ago, and it’s finally coming in. I was like, “Just do everything.” The nurse practitioner was like, “I bet insurance would cover a bleph!” Then, of course, she’s like: “Though we don’t take insurance.”

She’s like, “We can’t help you, but someone might be able to.” Also: It’s OK to have eyelids.

A radical take!

You always have to question wanting the surgery of the moment — like the buccal fat removal or the eye surgery. Like, maybe I want something totally left field.

We’ve been going deep on how attitudes about vanity have changed dramatically, and it occurred to me that you presaged this entire moment — or movement. With the launch of Starface, you had this understanding that people were ready to come out of the closet about what was really going on with their faces.

Well, thank you. I don’t know if I can take credit for all that, but that’s very kind of you.

How were you able to put your finger on the impending shift? I know you’re super online. Did you start collecting data? Or was it a gut feeling?

There was no focus group, no formal data, none of that. And I believe if we had done that, we would not have actually built it because I think the data would’ve said “No, I’m not going to wear this thing.” It’s very rare that a new way of dressing or presenting yourself in the world is put forward. And I think in a small but impactful way, that’s what Starface has done. Wearing a star on your face is a very small but rebellious thing to do. Now it feels normal, but prior to that, you just didn’t see people presenting themselves that way.

Was the goal to do something rebellious?

It was, I think, a response to the generation of media that we were in and the world of women’s magazines that we were in. We were putting forward a lot of personal essays. The first essay I got assigned at Elle was about the ways in which beauty is rewarded and then the ways in which it’s punished if it’s detectable. How cruel people were when you could tell that it was a nose job — but how it was absolutely rewarded and celebrated if it was passing. Starface completely subverts all of that. It’s like, “No, I’m not going to try to hide it, and I’m not going to show it to you. I’m going to do a secret third thing. I’m taking all of the weight out of this and making it fun and a little bit ironic, and I’m in on the joke.”

But how on Earth did you know that the world was ready for that, Julie?

Probably my own exhaustion. It was the experience that every person has had of having a visible pimple and having to show up to your life, your job, your date — whatever it is — and feeling self-conscious, and feeling maybe even more self-conscious about it when you put makeup on it. And then seeing the clear pimple patches and being like, “Well, this is a sticker. Are there any decorative ones? That would be cool. Why not?”

Also, being around really expressive and cool makeup looks while doing backstage beauty reporting, that was a side of beauty that we weren’t seeing in day-to-day life. That runway look converged in my mind with a problem and a solution.

“I don’t know if we’re ever going to make something that everybody loves. That’s not necessarily what I’m good at.”

You were still quite young back then. Did you have a sense that this was coming for the generation just below you?

No, we weren’t like, “We are building a Gen Z brand!” We were always saying, “What would it be like to build ProActiv today?” That’s not what Starface is at all. But ProActiv was this idea that was really formative around acne when we were younger. Those ads are formative. You were like, “Oh, Justin Bieber has acne. I have acne. Cool!” There’s something really equalizing about that.

Now that Starface is considered a Gen Z brand — as are Julie and your smoking-cessation brand, Blip — do you identify as someone who can straddle generational divides?

Sure. I don’t think about that a lot. I think what we make is a mindset that people of all ages can have. Part of what I love about Hello Kitty and Sanrio is that Sanrio is not just for kids. If you love Sanrio, Hello Kitty is going to be with you for your whole life. If you’re the type of person who expresses yourself this way, it doesn’t really matter if you’re 12 or if you’re 35. It’s a way that you look at the world.

What differences do you see in Gen Z, both on social media and also in the younger people you work with?

They’re funny. They’re self-aware — they’ve already examined and processed the whole self, whereas our generation, we are pretty avoidant. They will say the thing before you say it: “Get ready with me to go get my nose job!” It’s Kylie Jenner being the people’s princess for the week because she tells you, “This is the doctor; these are the CCs.” Whereas our generation was like, “What nose job?” With Gen Z, it is almost like performance art: It’s great content, and they know it performs. It’s a feedback loop that’s really encouraged: “When you come with me to get my chin lipo, the comments go off.”

On the flip side, the audience is there for the full cycle because it’s also: “Come with me to get my filler dissolved! I was overfilled and this is my face now.” Everything is a conversation. And by the way, that is all still packaged for entertainment and for consumption, so of course, there are things that are not necessarily revealed.

“When I see the 35-year-old facelift stuff, I’m like, “No, no, no, no.” Too close to home for me. I can’t do any of that stuff in moderation, so I kind of have to just be sober.”

How many hours a day do you spend online?

Well, I’m always changing the levels of consumption and what’s being consumed. I’ll go off of Instagram for 60 days or something and only use my Substack. I mean, everyone makes memes about it like, “I’m only on Substack!” Just to take in different stimuli, I guess. I still think TikTok and x.com and Reddit are going to give you the best reads versus Instagram — the fully packaged, fully processed food.

After Starface, you then launched Julie, the emergency contraceptive — which is such a ballsy move in terms of generational outreach. We had Plan B, but you’ve rebranded it and rethought it for a new generation. Talk me through that big swing.

So I have to be honest, that was a similar problem-solution type of thing, where the number of unwanted or mistimed pregnancies in the U.S. is crazy, crazy high — 50%! Crazy. When we were building Julie, people across the board — from investors to brand talent to customers — did not know what the morning-after pill does. Which, OK, that’s normal. I don’t know what Benadryl does! Sometimes you just need something to work, and you’re not looking into it. But with [emergency contraceptive] came misconceptions that were harmful because they might prevent someone from using it when they need it. So that’s what felt really important about Julie.

Do you think about your work as “commerce for good” as people sometimes say?

On my first day at XOJane — I was probably 21 or 22 — the job was to write about your experience every day. If it’s not your experience, you’re not writing about it. And now that’s my approach, and our approach as a team, with the specific problems that we’re trying to solve. If it didn’t happen to me, it doesn’t mean it’s not important, but I’m probably not the person to try to help solve it.

“What we make is a mindset that people of all ages can have. If you love Sanrio, Hello Kitty is going to be with you for your whole life.”

In addition to these smash successes, you’ve had a couple of launches that didn’t smash — like the slug skin care brand. What did you learn about Gen Z’s interests and desires from the brands that didn’t work out?

Listen, I stand by all of the products. They’re all excellent, the creative was excellent, the distribution was great. But I think Brian [Bordainick, Starface co-founder] and I are specifically drawn to, and are best suited to, tackling bigger, more divisive topics like what we’re talking about with Julie. We are really attracted to the things that some people hate and some people love. I don’t know if we’re ever going to make something that everybody loves. That’s not necessarily what I’m good at.

You joined Elle from XOJane, where Cat Marnell was your boss. And you came into the beauty space through magazines, which is a similar path to Emily Weiss of Glossier. Do you have a relationship with her at all — one powerhouse founder to another?

I mean, I do not think she knows who I am, but I definitely was introduced to her. Eva Chen introduced us when I was interning at Teen Vogue. It was a very small world — very small world. And [former beauty director] Emily Dougherty had me do a Glossier piece at Elle.

Do you think about Emily Weiss, as a successful woman in your industry, much?

No.

But you do clearly think about this decision you’ve made not to be a “girlboss.” You’ve succeeded there: Nobody lumps you in with that archetype. Can you tell me about that decision?

Yeah. I think it’s about Starface, and the Starface customer does not know who I am. They don’t know my name; they don’t know who Brian is. And I think that’s how you make something like Hello Kitty. I think it’s a full animated, fictional world, and knowing who makes it is not additive to that.

I’m sure people were — and still are — beating down your door to get you on ladies-only leadership panels and in special issues of business magazines.

Yeah, there are brands that are super well-suited to that format, and I don’t think Starface is one of them.

It’s also not the type of person you are, from what I can see.

No, it’s not the type of person that I am either. And I think from consuming a lot of media, a lot of podcasts, a lot of everything, it’s important to be self-aware enough to know: Is that something I’m actually good at?

That’s what’s so cool about being in charge — you get to make those decisions.

I also think to some extent, once a beauty editor, always a beauty editor. I’m still in all-daylong conversations on text or DM with a handful of other former editor friends. At Starface, it feels like we have a beauty closet, except we’re paying for it ourselves. We’re still collectors and fans of the category. You have to be. Otherwise, why are you doing this? It’s like our sports, I guess.

Do you also take pleasure in the ritual aspect of beauty? What appeals to me about Starface is that I don’t have to do anything, so I’m curious where you stand on that continuum.

I love that too. I don’t do a lot. The thing that I probably participate the most with is hair, because that for me is just expression — fun play — while I try to stay away from anything that feels too correctional. I will take it too far. I can’t dabble. I do all the normal stuff. I still go to [dermatologist] Shereene Idriss in New York and Contrapposto in L.A. — to Casey Welk, Nick Axelrod’s fabulous, gorgeous husband. But that’s why when I see the 35-year-old facelift stuff, I’m like, “No, no, no, no.” Too close to home for me. I can’t do any of that stuff in moderation, so I kind of have to just be sober.

What do you think about the idea of “agelessness”? Have we entered a postnatural era?

Transparency is always a good thing, but anytime a look becomes too prevalent and too attainable, there’s going to be a shift. And when you open your Instagram or your TikTok, it’s definitely a certain look. In the way that a certain look became defining of the 2016 to 2017 period, there’s very clearly a look going on right now. None of that is permanent. If this era is defined by undetectable surgeries and GLP-1s, that’s not going to last forever.

So what you’re telling me is I should keep my eyelids?

Literally, if we take one thing from this, keep your eyelids. Unless you don’t want to. In some ways all this stuff is a hobby. Everyone should do what they want. But keep your eyelids. Yes. That’s the takeaway.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

Photo Credit: Christine Corey, Getty Images