Everyone has their insecurities. That’s the truth we must cling to to get by, but when I was in high school, it didn’t feel like I was being insecure about my nose. It felt like the simple fact of the matter: I had a big nose with a bump at the top of the bridge, and I hated it more than anything. Nothing would convince me I wouldn’t benefit from a rhinoplasty, not my mom saying she liked my nose (“well, I don’t,” I would acidly shoot back), not my friends saying it was fine or I’d grow into it, not the tons of photos I took of my profile so I could analyze just how big and bumpy it really was. And then, at my first beauty internship, I was organizing products one day when I found it: Kevyn Aucoin’s Sculpting Powder, the only thing that’s kept me from taking the plunge all these years.

To understand the magnitude of how good this powder is, you have to understand how much I loathed my nose. It looked okay when I looked in the mirror and automatically widened my eyes and raised my eyebrows (everyone has their “mirror” face), but when I smiled in photos, my nose dipped and spread and kept me from seeing anything else. I’d get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I was tagged in photos, so I avoided them. I started second guessing which was the “truth,” what I looked like in the mirror, or what I looked like in photos. The latter seemed more real, and it began to feel like surgery was the only way out from this problem I was sure I had.

All through high school and college, I set my sights on wearing down my parents until they saw from my point of view. It didn’t matter that one of my only memories of my grandfather revolved around my nose—toddler me demonstrating my very unique talent for touching my tongue to my nose (that dip pays off in one way and one way only). It didn’t matter how anyone else felt about my nose, because I felt powerless. I just wanted to like my smile. It didn’t feel like a huge ask, to look happy without hating myself afterwards, without facing the disappointing truth of what I looked like to everyone else. Maybe it was greedy, but I wasn’t satisfied with just looking “cute,” which I thought of then as the B+ of beauty. I wanted powerful, leading lady beauty, the kind of face that no one could say no to (therapy has been helpful for untangling this toxic link).

But when I picked up the Kevyn Aucoin powder, a world of opportunities spread before me, much like my nose. Contouring was just taking off, so it wasn’t yet at the intimidating level where every palette came with a million shades and a color corrector. Instead, it was simple. I dipped an angled contour brush into the powder and sucked in my cheekbones, dusting the powder in the hollows created by my fish-face. After watching a few YouTube tutorials, I was ready for the big leagues. With the barest layer of powder on my brush, I dusted it on the underside of my nose. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’d never notice it. But to my over-sensitive eye, it’s transformative.

Where my nose by itself may always strike me as owl-y, after shortening my nose with a visual trick I can feel my self-esteem level up. Granted, these days I’m getting better at accepting myself (again, thank you, therapy), but on the days I want to really feel myself, it’s always and forever my last step. I’ve tried other contour products, and most will work in a last-minute duck into Ulta or Sephora. But on my very fair skin, the Sculpting Powder weaves the perfect illusion of a shadow, and comes in shades both a notch lighter and darker.

But I’ve never been one to accept good when better could exist, so after a few years spent with the Sculpting Powder by my side, I still booked a free consultation with a plastic surgeon. When I described what I was looking for—my nose, without the downturn that comes from that smiling motion—he said it might be doable, but such a small change wouldn’t be worth getting the procedure. It wasn’t quite the answer I wanted, but for now, I’m happy with my on-the-go powder. With three years between us and barely a dent in the pan, I’m not paying $20,000 for a nose job anytime soon.

Kevyn Aucoin The Sculpting Contour Powder, $44, sephora.com

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–For Women Insecure About Their ‘Big’ Noses, a New Campaign Takes on the Stigma

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