Vogue has 27 nominees for the title.
The landscape above my eyes has only ever been capable of sprouting a disappointingly anemic arch of follicles. I didn’t whittle them away as a misguided tweezer-happy teenager or shave them Mi Vida Loca-style. There’s just never been any there there.
I daydream sometimes about what my life would be like if I wasn’t dependent on a pencil for people to be able to tell I was furrowing. Much like Blue Ivy, I love a good furrow.
I also love a good slideshow of brow porn. It’s interesting to see how brows have evolved. From pencil thin arches of Dietrich to Ali McGraw’s happy-to-be-natty caterpillars. And then, of course…there’s Frida.