Courtesy of Kosas and Painted by EstherSave this storySave this story
Long before we were all talking about Barbie blush, before Olandria and some Real Housewives went viral for their draped flushes, Ngozi Esther Edeme (a.k.a. Painted By Esther) was posting her work online, laying the foundation for her reputation as bold blush’s most fearless champion.
Seven years ago, she tweeted a short clip of her applying makeup on a Black woman, alongside the caption: "Posting this because I want brown / Darkskin gurlz to see how blush hugs & balances our skin tone / our features. Cream blush to map out, powder blush to set. Blush was made for us." She had been doing this for years before anyone started paying attention, practicing on herself first, then on models she met at university. She’d share the results online and watch them go viral because, as she puts it, "people had never seen Black women look like that."
That 2019 post resurfaced recently as the public debated whether she has the right to be upset that her approach to layering cream and powder blush for a seamless, blurred finish appears to have been the inspiration for another brand's new launch. Blush draping is not a new technique, and Edeme is the first to acknowledge the artists who came before her. But bringing the look back, recentering the conversation on dark skin, and turning rosy cheeks into a cultural conversation? That’s all Painted By Esther.
When, in late May 2026, Patrick Ta launched his Transition Blush collection—a cream blush, powder palette, and dual-ended brush built around a three-step technique for blending color from the undereye into the cheek—beauty fans of the internet were quick to call out the similarities between his marketing materials and Edeme's work. Everything from the language Ta used to describe the system, the formula, and the placement tracked closely with what Esther had been demonstrating publicly in her workshops and online. A side-by-side comparison went viral, showing Ta using some of her exact wording. Ta eventually updated the caption on his launch announcement video, calling Edeme "amazing and so talented" and acknowledging the role she played in popularizing the look, while also claiming he had been doing his own version since 2021. (Ta has also been known for his love of blush; his Major Headlines Double Take Crème & Powder Blush Duo, which launched in 2020, is a bestseller for the brand. Allure reached out to Ta’s team for further comment, but has not heard back.)
For Edeme, none of this is surprising. "They're trying to rewrite history," she says. But her digital trail proves years of posts that document exactly how long she has been developing and sharing her method.
Edeme is careful to credit the lineage her work draws from: Kevyn Aucoin's Making Faces, and the work of Sam Fine and Danessa Myricks, two artists she studied obsessively. "If it wasn't for the artists that came before me, I would not be here, period," she insists. It is worth stressing that she has never claimed to have invented the foundational makeup technique that is transition shading. This type of blush application has long been part of makeup artistry, championed by greats like Way Bandy (in the 1970s and ‘80s) and Aucoin (in the 1980s and ‘90s). What makes her approach distinct isn’t the undereye blending itself but the boldness and unapologetic commitment to high-pigment color, applied generously. While editorial makeup of the 2010s framed blush as something to be used sparingly and softly, Edeme goes all the way in.
She normalized that bold approach, specifically on dark-skinned Black women at a time when the dominant beauty conversation was moving in precisely the opposite direction. And her aesthetic has become widely referenced, replicated, and reinterpreted across the beauty industry. "I just have a natural gift for looking at someone and knowing exactly where they should take it," Edeme explains.
Where another artist might arrive with a fixed technique, Edeme comes ready to customize her approach for whoever is sitting in front of her and is intentional about translating their energy and personality onto their face. Her work with Chloe Bailey, a regular collaborator who gives her full creative freedom, is a perfect example. Knowing how whimsical the multihyphenate is, Edeme wants exactly that energy reflected back. The results are some of the most playful, otherworldly makeup looks Bailey has worn.
Edeme has had a fascination with cheekbones long before she was Painted By Esther. She grew up collecting Bratz dolls and describes studying their faces with the seriousness of someone already learning a craft. "They're heart-shaped, they have beautiful cheekbones," she says, "and everything just sits nicely. It always made sense to me that everything would sit here." She trained as a portrait artist and learned to read a face the way a painter does, as something you build from scratch, customize, and celebrate in its specific geometry.
"Our skin is the most beautiful skin. I've always just wanted to elevate it and amplify it."
When she turned that eye toward Black women, Edeme saw a canvas the industry had persistently undervalued. "Our skin is the most beautiful skin," she says. "I've always just wanted to elevate it and amplify it." In response, she would seek out dark-skinned Black women and build looks around them: high-pigment blush in hot pinks, corals, and berries, colors the beauty industry had long insisted didn't work on dark skin. "I've always wanted to just give us the platform that we are absolutely gorgeous," she says. "That is my baseline."
By the time Edeme was in college, saving money to order Melanie Mills Glow products from LA, the foundations of her approach were already in place: skin first always, then color placed where it would do the most to accentuate features. "Everything just naturally sits here anyway," she says. "I practiced on myself first." She developed the three-step process for blush: cream to map, powder to set, a final layer of translucent setting powder to build intensity. Her client roster speaks for itself: Raye, SZA, Viola Davis, Kelly Rowland, and Adut Akech, to name a few.
Edeme's influence has reached farther than she could have imagined. She describes watching a video recently of a young Black woman applying bold blush and crediting Esther with giving her the confidence to do so, after years of being told the look made her appear clownish. "She fully credited that to me," Edeme says. "I just started crying." The woman in the video had decided she liked it and kept doing it, regardless of what anyone said. For Edeme, that’s the whole point.
Just like Edeme, who moved from Nigeria to the UK when she was younger, I moved from Ghana to a city in the UK, where my brother and I were the only Black kids in school. I was made to feel ugly, and I didn’t fit in. When I started teaching myself to apply makeup at 17, blush felt like a risk; something that would draw attention to a face I had already been told wasn't good enough. I wore it tentatively at first, then with more conviction. Now, I'm proud to be known for my blush blindness.
Mine is the story of so many Black women, which perhaps explains why, when the controversy broke, so many of us rose up to defend her. Edeme's influence on beauty culture has given us so much to protect.
There is a strange final stage to influence when something you popularize becomes so well-known that it's bigger than you. Edeme is careful to stress that influencers play an important role in introducing looks to new audiences, but she hopes that the industry becomes as quick to celebrate the artists who create as it is to celebrate those who spread. At the end of the day, recognition isn't just a nicety. It's how we make sure the people shaping beauty's visual language are credited (and, ideally, compensated) for their work.
This week, many people have posted in support of Edeme, often without mentioning the ongoing discourse at all: Creators have been sharing videos of themselves “trying Painted by Esther’s iconic blush technique,” and MAC Cosmetics published a shoot featuring Olandria wearing the brand’s blush alongside makeup tips from Edeme. Overall, Edeme does feel like the industry, including mainstream media outlets, has done a decent job in giving her her flowers. She adds, however, with characteristic directness: "I think they could do better."
In the meantime, she’s getting on with it. "My mission before I leave this earth is to spread my gifts," she says. She describes her goals for what’s next with the same unhurried confidence that seems to animate everything she does: workshops that feel like a party, complete with cocktails and a community of women learning together and lifting each other up. In time, she’d love the role of creative director at a brand. For now though, Edeme’s off to Jamaica this week to shoot a music video. She is booked, busy, and at a level where she can skate a little and really enjoy her work.
Beyond blush and any controversy, it has always been about women being seen, celebrated, and taking up space in an industry that has historically asked them to make themselves smaller—something Edeme never did. "I've always been willing to help," she says. The receipts go all the way back, and the work speaks for itself.
