I Was One of the Biggest Makeup Artists in Ukraine—and Then the War Hit

When I think back on my life before I was forced to leave my country, I remember a summer morning in 2019, one of the most special days of my career. I woke up, got ready, and prepared my kit, because in a few hours, I’d be presenting at the Avon Cosmetics Conference to 700 people on Ukraine’s largest stage, the National Palace of Arts “Ukraina” in Kyiv.

I had conducted dozens of masterclasses in my decade-long career, but this one was, by far, the largest. I remember hearing the host say my name and feeling jittery as I walked onto the stage. But once I picked up my makeup brushes, a calm settled over me. In that moment, I felt like I had finally made it.

I had been a makeup artist for more than 10 years at that point, working with global brands like MAC Cosmetics, before becoming the official makeup artist for Smashbox, GlamGlow, and then Avon Cosmetics in Ukraine. By 2021, I was also working with some of the biggest names in Ukraine: singers Nastia Kamenskykh, Iryna Bilyk, Ivan Dorn, Markus Riva, and Khrystyna Soloviy; Olympic coach Ireesha Blohina, and Ukrainian fashion designer Andre Tan. I was at the peak of my career, and beauty was my life.

Most days, I’d wake up, prep, grab my kit, and head to a photoshoot with celebrities or private clients. I’d spend my free time writing makeup articles for Beauty Hub (a beauty publication in Ukraine), or creating video tutorials and teaching masterclasses in the biggest cities of Ukraine. I had a great career. I was making good money and staying busy. I was happy.

But when Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, my whole world stopped. Nobody understood what to do or how to live, and it was nearly impossible to get anywhere because all public transportation had been halted. For the first month, we tried to keep life as “normal” as possible—but of course, nothing can truly be normal in the middle of a war.

We’d organize a photoshoot, and then emergency bomb alarms would blare throughout the city, and we’d be forced to hide and shelter in a closet or bathroom without windows. It was like the tornado drill you learn in school, except five times a day, every single day, and you never knew which one might finally be real.

Ukrainians had to figure out how to continue on with life, keep their businesses running, and make money—all while our cities were burning down around us. When I stopped getting makeup gigs, I put my energy into organizing shelters that would provide the LGBTQ+ community with food and clothes. Volunteering helped get my mind off of everything that was happening. When you’re helping somebody else, you’re not thinking about your own problems.

A few months into the war, I got the opportunity to create a Ukrainian makeup look for Avon. It was the first time I had picked up my brushes in months, and when I did, I felt a physical pain in my chest. I was so frustrated that I had to stop doing what I loved, and now, it didn’t even feel the same. I was creating art like I used to, but outside my window, my entire world had changed. As the war progressed, my contracts ended, and the job opportunities came to a stop. I spent my savings while I continued to volunteer, until the day the organizations closed their shelters. By then, I had no money—and I felt like I had no purpose.

I needed a way to make money so I could help my mother, my father, and my country. I had to go somewhere that had opportunities for me to use my hands and prove my talent. So I decided to go to America. Even before the war, I thought about moving to the U.S. I was at the ceiling of my career in Ukraine, and I knew America was a mecca of talented people, job opportunities, and makeup brands.

I mean, I grew up on American fashion and beauty magazines; that’s what inspired me to become a makeup artist in the first place. So when I discovered Uniting for Ukraine, a system dedicated to helping Ukrainians find refuge in America, I applied and left in September 2022—seven months after the war broke out.

I packed just two suitcases: One with my documents and some clothes, and another with my full makeup kit. I left everything else behind. I was picked up from the airport in Washington, D.C., by a group of strangers who were taking in Ukrainian refugees. I still remember that first night in America; it was so disorienting. I didn’t know how to switch from living in a war to suddenly living in peace.

We went out to dinner, and I couldn’t understand a single thing they were talking about, even though I was taught English in school. But, as I learned, that was textbook English—not everyday-life English—and the language barrier was bigger than I had imagined.

In those first few months in my new home, I felt unprepared and lost, especially since my English impacted my favorite part of my career: being a masterclass instructor. My goal has always been to teach people how to do their makeup—not just to cover up acne or make your eyes sparkle, but to boost your mood and confidence. To me, makeup is how you feel about yourself, and I wanted people to feel good. But how could I do that when I couldn’t hold a conversation with them?

For the first few months, my moods were like a wave. I was stuck at home filling out paperwork to get my work visa, which felt so mind-numbing compared to my life of creating looks and working with people. I would read the news or talk to my family or friends back home, and I’d feel just devastated by what was happening in Ukraine. But as the months progressed, I began to see a positive side to my forced break: time to finally be with myself.

Before the war, I was scheduled and booked for two full years. But in America, my life was suddenly unpredictable and unknown. Instead of staying home and sulking, I decided to embrace it. I spent as much time as I could finding inspiration and boosting my mood outside of work, like going to museums, parks, restaurants, and theaters, as well as meeting Americans via my hosts to help me feel less isolated and more connected.

Now, my average day starts with three to four hours of English courses, so I can feel comfortable and fluent enough to host masterclasses. I’ll watch English movies and English beauty tutorials on YouTube, since talking about makeup already feels like a universal language to me. A few days a week, I get to work as a makeup artist in a salon with private clients, which helps me feel a bit closer to the life I used to have.

But let’s face it: I’m nowhere near as well-known in America as I was in Ukraine, which means finding a job has been more difficult than I could have imagined. I’m constantly checking Indeed for new postings and looking for opportunities to network. I’ll send dozens of resumes to companies and only hear back from one for an interview. After working for more than a decade to get where I am, I’m unexpectedly back at square one, trying to convince brands that I’m talented. I can’t begin to describe how frustrating and disheartening that feels.

Recently, I traveled to a makeup convention in New York City just to feel close to beauty again. I decided to just put myself out there, and I ended up meeting so many other makeup artists, brands, and representatives in my sphere. I felt such an outpour of support from strangers who just wanted to help me build my career back up. For one of the first times since leaving home, I felt like everything was going to work out. I wouldn’t just survive—I would thrive.

Right now, I’m full of dreams. I dream of representing a brand, working with celebrities like J.Lo and Meryl Streep, and owning a makeup line that supports people with disabilities. I dream of giving back to Ukraine and helping my family who are still there. I spent so long feeling like the war upended my life, but now, I actually feel excited about my future.

Yes, I was forced to rebuild my career, but I feel lucky to just be healthy. I spent six months living in a war, wondering if I’d ever get to do makeup again—and now I’m back to doing what I love for a living. I may not be speaking to crowds of 700 people right now, but as long as I get to grow as an artist and help my friends and family along the way, I know I’ll be happy here.

To see more of Alexander’s work, head to his Instagram or check out his portfolio. If you’re wondering how to support Ukraine, consider donating to the Ukrainian Red Cross to help volunteers and people on the ground get medical assistance and supplies.