Beauty and the Bester: How Netflix Redefined Standards, Self-Worth, and the Global Obsession with Perfection

Published

Table of Contents

The first time a viewer scrolled through the neon-lit, filter-drenched world of Euphoria, they didn’t just watch a show—they entered a parallel universe where beauty wasn’t just skin-deep, but a religion. Miley Cyrus’ character, Rue, didn’t just wear makeup; she weaponized it, turning every contour into a statement, every glitter tear into a manifesto. And just like that, Netflix didn’t just stream a series—it redefined what beauty could look like, feel like, and cost like. This was the birth of beauty and the bester: a phenomenon where the platform’s most visceral, visually stunning content didn’t just reflect societal obsessions but accelerated them, turning algorithms into arbiters of desirability. The result? A global reckoning with self-worth, industry standards, and the terrifying power of a 10-second TikTok clip to dictate what “perfect” means in 2024.

But beauty and the bester isn’t just about Euphoria’s surreal glamour or Bridgerton’s Regency-era fantasy. It’s a cultural feedback loop where Netflix’s curated narratives—from You’s toxic allure to Ginny & Georgia’s small-town glam—collide with real-life beauty routines, surgical trends, and even mental health crises. The platform’s ability to normalize extreme aesthetics (think: Miley’s 3D-printed nails or The Crown’s airbrushed symmetry) has blurred the line between fiction and aspiration. Viewers don’t just consume these images; they emulate them, sparking a beauty economy where Fenty Beauty’s viral moments and dermatologists’ warnings about “Netflix face” coexist in the same breath. The question isn’t whether beauty and the bester is here to stay—it’s how deeply it’s already rewired our collective psyche.

What makes this moment unique is the speed of it. A decade ago, beauty trends trickled down from runways and magazines; today, they’re injected via binge-worthy visuals that demand immediate engagement. The algorithm doesn’t just suggest your next watch—it suggests your next filter, your next contour palette, your next “I need this look now” panic. And the stakes? Higher than ever. For Gen Z, beauty isn’t vanity; it’s identity. For older generations, it’s nostalgia dressed in pixelated glamour. For the industry, it’s a goldmine—and a minefield. Beauty and the bester isn’t just entertainment; it’s a social experiment, a mirror held up to society’s obsession with perfection, and a warning label on the back of our collective self-esteem.

beauty and the bester netflix

The Origins and Evolution of Beauty and the Bester

The seeds of beauty and the bester were sown long before Netflix dominated global screens. In the 1990s, MTV’s The Real World and Clueless turned everyday people into style icons, while magazines like Vogue and Cosmopolitan dictated the “it” girl aesthetic of the moment. But the digital revolution changed everything. By the early 2010s, platforms like YouTube and Instagram democratized beauty—and weaponized it. Tutorials went viral overnight, filters distorted reality, and influencers became the new beauty editors. Netflix arrived just as this ecosystem was reaching critical mass, poised to amplify these trends into something far more potent: narrative-driven beauty.

The turning point came with Orange Is the New Black (2013), which didn’t just showcase diverse beauty—it celebrated it. Piper Chapman’s messy buns and natural makeup felt revolutionary in an era still dominated by airbrushed perfection. But it was Euphoria (2019) that turned the dial to eleven. Created by Sam Levinson and starring Miley Cyrus, the show didn’t just feature beauty—it performed it. The makeup artist, Mike Hoehne, didn’t just apply products; he crafted art. Rue’s looks weren’t just inspired by real-life stars (like Lady Gaga’s meat dress or Beyoncé’s Lemonade era); they were collaborations with the industry itself. Hoehne’s work became a masterclass in how to turn pain into glamour, trauma into a runway moment. And viewers didn’t just watch—they participated. The Euphoria makeup challenge went viral, with fans recreating looks that cost hundreds of dollars with drugstore dupes, proving that beauty and the bester wasn’t about exclusivity—it was about accessibility to the extraordinary.

By 2020, Netflix had weaponized this formula across its slate. Bridgerton (2020) didn’t just revive Regency-era fashion—it reimagined it, turning corsets and powdered wigs into a modern fantasy. The show’s costume designer, Ellen Mirojnick, worked with brands like Fenty Beauty to create looks that felt both historical and hyper-contemporary. Meanwhile, You (2018) took the “dark academia” aesthetic and twisted it into a psychological thriller, where beauty wasn’t just a tool for seduction—it was a weapon. The result? A beauty arms race where viewers weren’t just consumers but active participants, dissecting every frame for its aesthetic clues. Netflix had turned beauty into a shared experience—one that transcended the screen and seeped into real-life routines, social media feeds, and even medical procedures.

The final evolution came with the rise of beauty as escapism. Shows like Ginny & Georgia (2021) and Outer Banks (2020) offered a softer, more nostalgic take on glamour—think: sun-kissed lip balm, vintage swimsuits, and the kind of effortless beauty that made viewers feel like they, too, could belong in a world where imperfections were charm. But the darker side of beauty and the bester emerged in parallel: the pressure to achieve these looks, the mental health toll of chasing an unattainable ideal, and the ethical questions about who gets to be “beautiful” on screen. As the platform’s influence grew, so did the backlash—from dermatologists warning about “Netflix face” (the over-plucked, over-filtered look inspired by shows like The Crown) to critics arguing that these narratives were deepening societal anxieties about appearance.

beauty and the bester netflix - Ilustrasi 2

Understanding the Cultural and Social Significance

Beauty and the bester isn’t just a trend—it’s a cultural reset. For the first time in history, beauty standards are being set not by a monolithic industry but by a decentralized, algorithm-driven machine. Netflix’s shows don’t just reflect these standards; they accelerate them, turning passive viewers into active collaborators in the construction of modern aesthetics. The platform’s ability to deliver hyper-visual content at scale has made beauty a collective obsession, where the line between entertainment and aspiration has dissolved entirely. What was once a niche interest—contouring, glam makeup, vintage revival—has become mainstream, thanks to Netflix’s ability to package these looks as emotional experiences.

Consider the impact of Euphoria’s makeup on real-world beauty routines. Before the show, “glam” was often associated with red carpets and magazine covers. After Euphoria, it became a daily ritual—a way to process trauma, express individuality, or simply feel powerful. The show’s influence extended beyond makeup: fans adopted its fashion (think: distressed denim, oversized silhouettes), its slang (“sksksk”), and even its attitude. Miley Cyrus, once a pop star, became a beauty icon—not because of her music, but because of how she performed femininity on screen. This shift reflects a broader cultural moment where beauty is no longer just about looking good; it’s about feeling like the protagonist of your own story.

The social significance of beauty and the bester is perhaps most evident in its role as a mirror for societal anxieties. In an era of political instability, economic uncertainty, and mental health crises, the allure of Netflix’s curated beauty is undeniable. These shows offer an escape—but they also exploit vulnerabilities. The pressure to achieve the “Netflix look” has led to a surge in cosmetic procedures (Botox, fillers, eyelid surgery), with some viewers reporting “Netflix face” as a direct inspiration. Meanwhile, the platform’s algorithms reinforce these trends, pushing related content—makeup tutorials, before-and-after transformations, even ads for beauty products—into viewers’ feeds. The result is a feedback loop where beauty isn’t just consumed; it’s prescribed.

“Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.”—Kahlil Gibran
This quote, often attributed to the Lebanese poet, takes on new meaning in the age of beauty and the bester. On the surface, it seems to reject the superficiality of Netflix’s hyper-stylized aesthetics. But in practice, the platform has inverted this idea: beauty is no longer just internal—it’s performative, algorithmic, and transactional. The light in the heart is now filtered through a lens of likes, shares, and viral moments. Shows like You and Bridgerton don’t just tell stories—they sell an idea of beauty that’s as much about power as it is about appearance. The quote’s original intent—to elevate the soul over the surface—feels quaint in a world where a single Euphoria makeup look can spawn a billion-dollar industry. The tension between Gibran’s idealism and Netflix’s commercialism reveals the core conflict of beauty and the bester: Is it liberating to express yourself through artistry, or is it another form of control?

The relevance of this conflict is clear when examining the mental health implications of the trend. Studies have shown a correlation between binge-watching visually intense shows and increased body dissatisfaction, particularly among young women. The “Netflix face” phenomenon—characterized by over-plucked brows, heavy contouring, and unnaturally smooth skin—has led to a rise in dysmorphia, where viewers struggle to reconcile their own appearances with the airbrushed ideals on screen. Yet, the platform continues to thrive, proving that the allure of beauty and the bester outweighs the risks. This duality is the heart of the phenomenon: it’s both a celebration of creativity and a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked aspiration.

beauty and the bester netflix - Ilustrasi 3

Key Characteristics and Core Features

At its core, beauty and the bester is defined by three interconnected pillars: visual storytelling, algorithm-driven amplification, and community participation. Unlike traditional beauty media, which relied on static images or passive consumption, Netflix’s approach is dynamic. Shows like Euphoria and Bridgerton don’t just feature beauty—they embody it, using cinematography, lighting, and editing to make every frame a work of art. The result is a sensory overload that doesn’t just entertain but immerses the viewer in a world where beauty is the primary language. This isn’t just about looking good; it’s about feeling the emotion behind the look, whether it’s Rue’s defiance or Daphne Bridgerton’s elegance.

The second defining feature is the algorithm’s role in shaping trends. Netflix’s recommendation engine doesn’t just suggest shows—it curates beauty experiences. After watching Euphoria, a viewer might be fed makeup tutorials, behind-the-scenes featurettes, or even ads for the same brands used in the show. This creates a closed loop where beauty isn’t just consumed but reinforced. The platform’s data-driven approach means that trends don’t just emerge organically; they’re accelerated by the algorithm’s ability to predict and shape desires. For example, the viral success of Bridgerton’s “Regency core” aesthetic led to a surge in demand for vintage-inspired fashion, with brands like Revolve and ASOS reporting record sales in corsets and pearl accessories. The algorithm doesn’t just reflect culture—it shapes it.

Finally, beauty and the bester thrives on community participation. Unlike traditional media, where beauty was a one-way street from creator to consumer, Netflix’s shows invite viewers to engage. Fans recreate looks, dissect outfits, and even collaborate with the creators (as seen with Euphoria’s makeup challenges). Social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram amplify this participation, turning viewers into prosumers—both consumers and producers of beauty content. The result is a democratization of aesthetics, where anyone can aspire to the “Netflix look,” regardless of budget or background. However, this participation also comes with risks, as the pressure to achieve these looks can lead to unrealistic expectations and even harmful behaviors, such as excessive editing or cosmetic procedures.

  • Visual Storytelling: Shows like Euphoria and Bridgerton use cinematography, lighting, and editing to turn every frame into a beauty moment, blurring the line between entertainment and art.
  • Algorithm-Driven Trends: Netflix’s recommendation engine doesn’t just suggest content—it amplifies beauty trends, creating a feedback loop where trends are both reflected and accelerated.
  • Community Participation: Viewers don’t just consume beauty and the bester—they engage with it, recreating looks, sharing tutorials, and even collaborating with creators.
  • Industry Collaboration: Shows like Euphoria and Bridgerton work directly with beauty brands (e.g., Fenty Beauty, Charlotte Tilbury) to create looks that feel both aspirational and accessible.
  • Mental Health Implications: While beauty and the bester can be empowering, it also contributes to body dissatisfaction, dysmorphia, and an unhealthy obsession with appearance.
  • Global Influence: The phenomenon transcends borders, with shows like Squid Game (2021) introducing K-beauty trends and Money Heist (2017) popularizing bold, androgynous styles.

Practical Applications and Real-World Impact

The real-world impact of beauty and the bester is most evident in the beauty industry itself. Brands that once relied on traditional advertising now see Netflix as a primary driver of trends. Fenty Beauty, for example, saw a surge in sales after Euphoria’s makeup artist, Mike Hoehne, praised its products on set. Similarly, Bridgerton’s costume designer, Ellen Mirojnick, collaborated with brands like Charlotte Tilbury to create looks that fans could replicate, turning the show into a marketing powerhouse. The result is a symbiotic relationship where Netflix’s content fuels sales, and the beauty industry validates the trends, creating a virtuous cycle of aspiration and consumption.

For consumers, the impact is equally profound. The rise of beauty and the bester has led to a democratization of aesthetics, with drugstore brands like NYX and Morphe seeing increased demand for high-end dupes of Netflix-inspired looks. Yet, this accessibility comes with a cost. The pressure to achieve these looks has led to a rise in cosmetic procedures, with some viewers reporting “Netflix face” as a direct inspiration. Dermatologists have coined the term to describe the over-plucked, over-filtered look popularized by shows like The Crown and You, warning that the pursuit of this ideal can lead to skin damage, hair loss, and even mental health issues. The phenomenon highlights a broader trend: the blurring of lines between fiction and reality, where what we watch on screen directly influences how we see ourselves—and how we alter our appearances to match.

The social media ecosystem has further amplified this impact. Platforms like TikTok and Instagram are flooded with beauty and the bester content, from tutorials on recreating Euphoria’s makeup to before-and-after transformations inspired by Bridgerton’s Regency glamour. Influencers play a crucial role in this cycle, often partnering with brands to promote products featured in Netflix shows. The result is a feedback loop where beauty trends are no longer dictated by a handful of industry insiders but by a decentralized network of creators, viewers, and algorithms. This shift has given rise to a new kind of beauty influencer—one who doesn’t just sell products but narratives, turning makeup into a form of storytelling.

Perhaps most significantly, beauty and the bester has redefined what it means to be “beautiful” in the digital age. Shows like Ginny & Georgia and Outer Banks offer a softer, more inclusive take on glamour, while others like Sex Education (2019)