I am tickled writing this because I cannot believe I’m about to use the same words on you all that my mother used on me.

If you grew up anything like me, you know exactly how it felt to pass your favorite fast-food spot while pleading from the back seat and asking your mom to stop for a quick meal, only for her to say, “We got food at the house.”

Those words could ruin the entire ride home.

So instead of saying, “We got food at the house,” I’ll be saying to you all: We got makeup at the house! Lol!

As I got older, I realized that sentence applied to so much more than food. My mother was reminding me to look at what we already had before asking for something else. And somehow, after all those years of being irritated with her, I have become her.

And let’s be clear (insert Kamala Harris pointed finger): I am not telling us to stop buying makeup. There is always a tempting new launch waiting to put heart shapes in my eyes. I enjoy trying something new, treating myself and seeing what brands create next.

But before we add another product to the cart, can we take a closer look at what we already have? Can we discover new techniques that make those products feel new again? Because as your trusted artist bestie, I’ll tell you:

If you have bronzer, you have eyeshadow.

If you have a brow pencil, you have eyeliner.

If you have blush, you have lip color.

Of course, check the formula to make sure it’s approved for the area you plan to use it. Once we handle that part, the name printed on the packaging does not have to be the limit of what a product can do.

I will always be here for something new, but there is also an art to knowing how to work with what you already have.

And as my good sis Mariah Carey once said, “I’m doing the best I can with what I got!”

So, as a little thank-you to my new Substack community, I’m sharing a quick tutorial that puts this idea into practice.

I say all that to say, before you add to cart, go see what we got at the house!

Then there’s the vendor onboarding process you find out about when you check on payment thirty days later. Apparently, that takes another thirty days. I always wonder how we managed to have so many conversations about what was needed from me without this coming up.

Every artist I know, myself included, has considered what it takes to be called back. You want people to enjoy working with you. Hospitality is part of what we do: reading the room, quietly solving whatever comes up, making people feel taken care of while delivering the work. Alongside artistry, we bring business sense, content creation, lighting, photography, and a fair amount of psychology. We put a lot into making the experience feel easy. So when it’s time to ask for something as basic as payment, why are we weighing whether the request will make us difficult? As a Black artist, that label is something I’m especially conscious of.

I have always expected my team to respond professionally. We don’t always get to change the outcome, but we make a note of how difficult it was to get there. Early in my career, some companies disappeared without ever paying, leaving me devastated and wondering how I would cover my bills. Those experiences changed who we worked with again and taught us to include clear payment terms in our deal memos and address vendor onboarding before starting the work.

Even then, the questions can follow you into the next conversation. Will these terms turn them off? Will they hire someone who asks fewer questions? In an industry that is already unpredictable, it’s easy to stay agreeable and hope everything works out. But I knew what it felt like when it didn’t. I had also helped other artists chase their payments, and it started to feel a little silly that we were so concerned about preserving relationships with people who weren’t honoring their part of the agreement.

Eventually, I had to change who I said yes to. I became more intentional about working with clients who advocated for me and brands that allowed me to hire my own muses so I could extend opportunities to them. Those opportunities were written into my contracts. I wanted to give my time and talent to relationships where that care went both ways. By the next invitation, I was considering the whole experience, including what happened after I delivered.

I also began looking at how much of my future I wanted to leave dependent on the next booking. My husband and I launched an agency that represents me, and I got to work expanding what I offered. Product development and long-term brand partnerships became part of that picture. Keeping those partnerships nonexclusive mattered because I wanted my options open. I had more I wanted to build, and I needed to give those plans the same attention I gave the work people hired me to do.

I still care about being someone people enjoy working with. I take pride in showing up prepared, being thoughtful, and doing my job well. I expect that same care when we discuss terms, when my team has a question, and when payment is due. The people I say yes to now are people whose actions give me a reason to keep saying yes.

We spend so much time wondering whether a client will want to work with us again. How often do we stop to ask whether we want to work with them?