'At 17, my boss made a simple request. I didn't realise the true cost until a decade later.'

I picked up the phone after three rings, expecting another customer inquiry about our opening times. 

"Hello, Catie," the person on the other end said. "It's Jean*."

My boss. I turned my head and saw her bag sitting where she left it. She hadn't left for the day.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Yes, yes. All good here," she reassured. "Just in my office. But I have something I want to discuss with you."

You're fired, shouted the anxious voice in my head.

Watch: Signs you have a toxic boss or leader. Post continues after video.

"Okay…" I said.

Jean took a breath. "Would you, uh. Would you be able to wear makeup to work?"

A moment of silence.

"I do wear makeup," I replied sheepishly, my face bright red.

"Oh," came the reply. A long pause followed.

"Well, maybe you could wear a bit more? Some mascara and lip gloss, perhaps? It's just… you're the first thing the customers see when they walk in, and we want to make a good impression; we don't want anyone looking tired, you know?"

The red in my cheeks intensified. I turned to the mirror on the counter and observed my face as a third party. Acne and dark circles threatened to poke out from under my foundation. I suppose I did look tired, but it had been a busy eight-hour shift.

I cleared my throat.

"Yeah, of course!" I replied — my 17-year-old self was eager to please.

A sigh of relief. 

"Thank you, sweetheart! I'll be down soon."

The line went dead, and I returned the phone to its cradle. With one final look in the mirror, I desperately tried to fix my concealer creases before returning to the till. Jean's words played on a loop in my head as I cashed up.

"You need any help?" my co-worker Frank* called from across the room.

"No, all done," I said as I closed the register. "I think we're ready to go."

Frank gave me a thumbs up and picked up his bag.

I heard the clip-clop of her heels before I saw her. Jean swept into the room with purpose, heading for her belongings.

"Good work today team!" she said to no one in particular, before turning to face me.

"Catie, did our phone call earlier make sense?" she asked.

My face burning fuchsia again, I nodded — grateful, at least, she was being vague in front of Frank.

"We were just discussing the team wearing more makeup," she then announced to the room, making me wonder why she bothered with the private phone call in the first place.

"That includes you, Frank! We're all about equality here," she wagged her finger at my co-worker, giggling to herself.

Frank returned her laughter with alacrity. He pretended to apply blush to his cheeks, exaggerating each movement with a flourish. This set Jean off even more, and their laughs intensified as we left the building for the day.

The next morning, I drove to the shops and bought new mascara, lipgloss, and blush. I returned home to watch YouTube makeup tutorials about how to properly cover acne.

From then on, before every shift, I woke up 20 minutes earlier to perfect my makeup routine. In between customers, I would reapply concealer below my eyes to keep the dark circles at bay.

I received no further comments from my boss about my appearance. And Frank remained makeup free until my last day.

I didn't know it at the time, but I was experiencing something called the 'beauty tax'.

"[The beauty tax] means that women typically face substantial expenses to meet professional beauty standards compared to men," Deepak Shukla, CEO of Pearl Lemon Accountants, told Mamamia.

"Studies indicate that women spend an average of $3,000 annually on grooming essentials like makeup, hair care, and professional attire. In contrast, men's grooming costs are considerably lower, as they are not held to the same standards in many workplaces," added Shukla.

According to the accountant, industries like hospitality, corporate sales, and retail (aka: the industry I worked in 10 years ago) are most affected.

"In customer-facing roles, women are often expected to look polished to align with a company's branding, resulting in higher financial demands," shared the CEO. "Lower-income women in these roles bear the brunt, as the costs take up more of their earnings."

In my privileged instance, an extra tube of mascara and lip gloss didn't put too big of a dent in my savings. But these costs do add up throughout a career.

"For instance, $3,000 a year for 40 years comes to $120,000," said Shukla. "That sizeable amount could have been used for investments, retirement, or savings. The long-term impact often leaves women with fewer financial resources later in life."

And, no, us employees don't get that money back. As per the ATO, "costs related to personal appearance, including cosmetics or makeup, skin care, shaving products, haircuts, hairdressing and hair products, aren't deductible".

These are because they are considered "private expenses" — even if your employer expects you to maintain a certain standard of grooming.

To lessen the strain of the beauty tax, Shukla encourages employers to "reconsider clothing requirements and promote flexibility in grooming standards".

"Workplace expectations can be changed with policies that encourage uniqueness and inclusivity," he said. "Employee financial strain might be reduced by providing grooming or professional clothing stipends."

A decade ago, Jean's request merely embarrassed me. Now, I realise its true impact. What started as an extra tube of mascara became an ingrained habit.

When a product ran out, I would replace it without question before my next shift. When I applied my makeup before work, I wasn't just getting ready — I (like so many women) was unknowingly paying the price of the 'beauty tax'.

The sooner workplaces rethink these expectations, the less women will have to pay — both financially and emotionally.

Although, I do hope Frank tried some blush in the end.

*Jean and Frank's names have been changed for privacy reasons.

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