FIRST it was fashion. Now make-up is beginning to bite the dust.

Are we all turning into lockdown slobs? Or are we just starting to realise that stripping back to basics is no bad thing.

Last week, Becca Cosmetics became the first major beauty casualty of the pandemic, with the Australian company announcing it is shutting down after 20 years.

A statement on its website said: “At Becca, an accumulation of challenges, together with the global impact of Covid-19, has sadly been more than our business can withstand, and we have had to make the heartbreaking decision to close down the Becca brand at the end of September 2021.”

Founded by make-up artist Rebecca Morrice Williams in Perth, since 2001 it has been a huge name in luxury beauty with thousands of counters across the world.

It’s owned by beauty conglomerate Estee Lauder, which owns other companies including Bobbi Brown, MAC and Jo Malone.

Over the years, it has collaborated with the likes of Chrissy Teigen, Khloe Kardashian and YouTuber Jaclyn Hill.

But not for much longer.

I have to confess, I had never heard of Becca Cosmetics. This is hardly surprising. If I ever have occasion to wear make-up (that’ll be more or less never – and that was before lockdown) I wheel out the Clinique I purchased (at horrifying expense!) for my wedding day. Twenty-six years ago. Don’t listen to the nonsense about cosmetics “going off”. It makes me look just as orange today as the day I wed.

So I can’t use lockdown as an excuse for lacking in the glam department.

I reckon I used up my lifetime’s quota of make-up when I was 14. The black eyeliner was so thick you could hardly blink and the must-have lippy – a Boots special purchased alongside lashings of Country Born hair gel for the augmentation of spiked hair – was the temptingly named Twilight Teaser. Looking back, I have no idea quite what its allure was. It was a haunting shade of lilac that made even the liveliest punkish teenager look like the living dead. Or maybe that was the aim.

Lockdown, however, has afforded me a whole new social life – one that’s even better as there is no expectation of the wearing of slap, heels or smart clothes.

On Friday night, I actually made it to a “leaving do”, the first since circa 2004.

I always used to joke that if I ever had occasion to leave my job, it would be unlikely that I’d make my own leaving do.

So it was fun to gather on Zoom to say goodbye and reminisce. We make the best of our circumstances and give thanks to technology. There were no hugs or handshakes.

“Skin hunger” is the new make-up, a neurological condition that has skyrocketed during the pandemic. A mental and physical malaise being played out all over the country, skin hunger has become prevalent in a world where the risk of contagion means touch and intimacy have become dangerous and we are starving ourselves of human affection.

Lockdown has brought a whole new meaning to skin care.