I never thought of myself as a makeup person. For most of my twenties I was a tinted moisturiser and mascara kind of woman — functional, forgettable, fine. But something shifted the autumn I turned twenty-seven, and it started, of all places, with a Halloween party I almost didn't go to.
The Moment I Realised Something Was Missing
My friend Dara had been doing her own makeup for years — deep plums, smoky slates, the kind of eyes that made you stop mid-conversation. I'd always admired it from a distance, assuming it required some innate talent I simply didn't possess. That October evening, watching her blend out a burgundy crease shade with the ease of someone stirring a cup of tea, I felt a pang of something I can only describe as creative envy.
"What palette is that?" I asked.
She held up a sleek, dark compact. "Radioactive Unicorn. The Nosferatu one. It's the only thing I've used for months."
Why I Chose This Particular Palette
I went home that night and did what any sensible person does at midnight: I fell down a research rabbit hole. I'd looked at palettes before and always bounced off them — too many shimmers I'd never use, too many duplicates of the same mid-tone brown, or formulas that reviewers described as "chalky" or "patchy". I wanted something that would actually perform, and I wanted shades that felt intentional rather than filler.
The Radioactive Unicorn Nosferatu Palette kept coming up. Twelve shades, all matte, all with a purpose: bone, taupe, mauve, berry, lilac, plum, blood red, slate blue, charcoal, undead brown, and two depths of black. No shimmer padding. No throwaway shades. The brand's commitment to being 100% vegan and cruelty-free sealed it for me — I'd been trying to move my beauty routine in that direction and this felt like a natural fit.
I also appreciated that the formula was described as buttery and buildable. As a complete beginner, I needed forgiveness. I needed a shadow I could blend out if I made a mistake, not one that grabbed and stayed exactly where I didn't want it.
The First Week: Tentative Experiments
When it arrived I sat at my bathroom mirror for a full twenty minutes before I even opened it. Then I did what the internet told me: I started with the bone shade all over the lid, the taupe in the crease, and the charcoal along the lash line. I blended with a fluffy brush in small circular motions and waited for it to go wrong.
It didn't.
The pigment was exactly as described — rich without being overwhelming, and forgiving enough that my clumsy blending actually looked intentional. I wore it to work the next day half-expecting someone to say something. My colleague Priya looked at me across the desk and said, "Your eyes look incredible. What have you done differently?"
I nearly fell off my chair.
A Month In: Finding My Signature Look
By week three I was experimenting properly. The blood red paired with the slate blue along the lower lash line became my weekend look — dramatic without being costume-y. The lilac and plum combination gave me a bruised, romantic effect that I wore to a gallery opening and received three compliments before I'd even got a drink in my hand.
What surprised me most was how versatile the palette was across my skin tone. I have quite fair, cool-toned skin and I'd worried some of the deeper shades would look muddy or overwhelming. Instead, the undead brown became my go-to transition shade — it warmed my crease without looking orange, which had always been my fear with brown eyeshadows.
I also started wearing makeup on days I previously wouldn't have bothered — a Tuesday afternoon working from home, a quick trip to the farmers' market. Not because I felt I had to, but because I genuinely enjoyed the ten minutes it took. It had become a small ritual, a moment of deliberate creativity in an otherwise reactive day.
The Difference It Has Made
Six months on, the Nosferatu Palette sits on my dressing table rather than in a drawer. That's the real metric for me — whether something earns a permanent spot in the daily landscape of my life, or gets quietly retired to a shelf.
It has made me more confident, in a way that feels earned rather than performed. I understand my face better. I understand colour theory in a rudimentary but functional way. I've started exploring the rest of the Eye Shadows and Eye Makeup collections, and I've recommended this palette to four different people, two of whom have since messaged me to say it changed their routine too.
If you're sitting where I was — curious but intimidated, drawn to a darker aesthetic but unsure where to start — this is the palette I'd point you to. It's forgiving enough for beginners, deep enough to satisfy anyone who wants to push further, and ethical enough that you can feel good about buying it.
You can find the Radioactive Unicorn Nosferatu Palette in the Cosmetics, Makeup, Personal Care, and Health & Beauty collections. Go on. The moonlight suits you.
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