Hollowed-out eyes, stitched mouths, and intricate flower wreaths are some of the distinctive markings of La Calavera Catrina—known more simply as La Catrina, “the elegant skull”—a cultural makeup worn during Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, which begins November 1. The glamorous creations have become popularized globally through films like Disney’s Coco and most recently Netflix’s The Chair, but La Catrina is not an aesthetic for a Pinterest board or fodder for a Halloween costume—something that those unfamiliar with Latino culture might not understand. It’s a tradition with pre-Hispanic roots that nurtures a direct relationship between the living and the dead.
Colorado State University assistant professor María Inés Canto, Ph.D., explains that the symbol of La Catrina was born from several elements, including “the relationship that indigenous cultures had with death.” But it was the Spanish conquest and imposition of the Catholic religion that Dr. Canto says hybridized various cultural expressions: “A kind of evangelizing analogy began. For example, indigenous cultures were polytheistic and carried out their celebrations in the open air, so the church began to incorporate festivals and processions of various saints with whom the original settlers could identify.”
La Catrina specifically was created in the early 1910s by Mexican political cartoonist José Guadalupe Posada. According to Dr. Canto, Posada frequently used the elegantly dressed skeletons to criticize the dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz and the upper classes that supported him during the Mexican Revolution.
“Many journalists used the image of skeletons for criticism, and at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century, the society in Mexico was very polarized, with lots of poor people and a few catrinas who could afford to dress well,” University of San Diego associate professor Antonieta Mercado, Ph.D., explains. “Posada painted many other skulls and skeletons, and used the trope of skeletons to satirize and criticize politicians and public figures of the time...implying they did something wrong, and therefore they were going to be turned into skeletons.”
While Posada’s catrinas were fashioned after European images of skeletons, artists like Diego Rivera “started a tradition of vindicating indigenous iconography in the 1930s.” They considered the Mexican Revolution a war that vindicated the rights of the common people, not elites, Dr. Mercado explains.
The remainder of the 20th century would mark La Catrina’s evolution into a Día de los Muertos tradition. Dr. Mercado believes the beginning of the 21st century was when women really began to dress up as Catrinas. “There were some people who painted their faces in Mexico as skeletons but not dressing up as La Catrina until the celebration got more transnational,” she says. “Year after year, you could see Catrinas in places where Mexicans and Mexican Americans live in the U.S. as the 2000s advanced.”
The intertwining of La Catrina and Día de los Muertos was a natural evolution of traditions over time—but for Dr. Canto, the potency of La Catrina through the centuries speaks to a significant burden: “I take the hand of that elegant and colorful Catrina to speak of the more than 10 women who are killed in Mexico every day…. I take the color contrast of La Catrina to talk about how the official discourse and most of the media make femicides invisible as well as to highlight the work of nongovernmental feminist organizations that support victims and their families from civil society. May La Catrina amplify our voices.”
As Día de los Muertos continues to evolve across countries, La Catrina has become somewhat of a permanent fixture of the holiday. Below, Glamour speaks with seven Latinx people to reveal what La Catrina means to them—and why they continue to dress as her each year.
Catrinas are a reminder of our cultural roots.
Mexican American Instagram blogger Jocelyne Peña began experimenting with Catrinas in high school, where she based her look off one of her aunt’s paint jobs from when she danced folklórico in Mexico. “It felt empowering,” Peña recalls. “Almost like paying homage to my family and their roots.” Although Día de los Muertos is celebrated across various Latin American countries, Peña says doing her Catrinas every year is a “beautiful reminder” of some of her favorite Mexican customs. She often draws inspiration for her creations from the sugar skulls her mom buys to decorate her altar, and she chooses the colors of little details like the dye. She completes each look with an homage to old Mexican cinema à la María Félix with a classic red lip and a flick of winged liner.
“When I paint someone’s face in my family for Día de los Muertos, or if I am creating a piece and incorporating the Catrina, it makes me feel closer to my culture,” she says of the often hours-long makeup process. “The best thing about Catrinas is that they are so universal and each one is unique in their own way.”
She describes the Catrina makeup as ever evolving, with creators drawing their inspiration from each other and even coming up with unique ways to improve upon their designs each year. And it’s an ode to joy during a celebration of remembrance. “When you think of the dead, it usually brings a sad and somber feeling,” she says, “but what is great about the Catrina is that it’s the face and symbol for Día de los Muertos where you get the chance to celebrate the lives of our passed loved ones. It’s a happy time, and the holidays are full of color.”
Catrinas are not a Halloween costume.
Día de los Muertos is Reina Rebelde founder Regina Merson’s favorite holiday. “It is a great time to reflect on the people, and animals, that have passed and that I miss dearly,” the cosmetics maven tells Glamour. “I find the ritual of constructing my Día de los Muertos altar to be very therapeutic, albeit a bit sad, so I love balancing that ritual with the ritual of my Catrina makeup, which is part of the more celebratory aspect of the holiday.”
When Merson was younger, her mother would do her Catrina makeup each year, so the process of creating her Catrinas is filled with positive memories of learning about death and the afterlife, and honoring those who have passed. She often uses brightly shaded lipsticks, like Reina Rebelde’s Brava and Rosa Salvaje, around her eyes instead of eye shadow for a bold pop of color. Merson also recommends getting creative with your Catrinas, using crystals around the eyes or as accents on the face.
“Painting a Catrina gives me an opportunity to get lost in a holiday that is as much about reflection as it is about celebration of those lives lost and by extension our lives,” Merson said. “The holiday is, above all, a way of honoring and supporting those that have passed during their spiritual journey, and La Catrina is one symbolic gesture about the holiday.”
Merson notes that La Catrina and Día de los Muertos are not Halloween. “I always love the idea of people from all cultures participating in this ritual, so long as the history is understood and the process is respected,” she says. “One of the most offensive things is when people paint a Catrina and make the look intersect with something scary and bloody—remember La Catrina represents your dead relative, not a comic book character.”
La Catrina is a beautiful way to honor the dead.
For Julissa Prado, founder and CEO of Rizos Curls, the act of putting on her Catrina makeup is a reminder of her own mortality—but in a way that makes her appreciate life.
“What I love about Día de los Muertos is that it’s a beautiful reminder that, in the same way there’s beauty in beginnings, there’s also beauty in endings,” Prado tells Glamour. “The makeup represents the beauty in passing and remembering those we love. Death doesn’t discriminate—no matter who you are, we will all someday face it.”
While some may think La Catrina and the various calaveras are morbid, Prado says it’s just the opposite. Painting a skull on her face is a way to honor lost loved ones—a bridge between the living and the dead that celebrates life on both sides.
“I use my face as the canvas to bring to life a beautiful representation of death,” she says. “This look is meant to honor and celebrate the lives of people we’ve lost, and it shouldn’t be made to look gory. The intricate makeup is part of the celebration of life and death.”
Catrinas can be empowering.
Influencer and founder of Birdy Lashes Yasmin Maya first wore La Catrina makeup to celebrate lost loved ones when she was a young girl. “My mom had painted my face, and I remember feeling so honored to be able to celebrate my grandpa that day,” she tells Glamour. “To be able to do Catrina makeup is a way to celebrate them with a form of their souls returning from the afterlife for that day.”
Maya wishes people could understand the importance and meaning behind La Catrina—and the sentimental value it brings for people who choose to wear the skull-like makeup each year. For Maya, she makes each Catrina special by incorporating her loved ones’ favorite colors or shapes in her designs. Sometimes she even uses glow-in-the-dark paint for an added effect. She notes that La Catrina, for her, is about celebrating and remembering the good in those she’s lost.
“It’s not just to be or look cool, but there’s a bigger picture to it,” she says. “If they do Catrina makeup to also celebrate their own loved ones that have passed, to honor the moment to feel empowered and happy.”
Putting on Catrina makeup can be an emotional experience.
Mexican American airbrush and traditional makeup artist Denise Romero, a.k.a. Belleza Tarasca, has vivid memories of her childhood spent in Morelia, Mexico. She’d frequently make trips to Pátzcuaro, a town nearby, with her mom and grandmother—one trip in particular stood out.
“One of the most vivid memories I have of those trips is from the time we went for Día de los Muertos,” Romero tells Glamour. “When we visited the cemetery, you could smell the cempazuchitl [marigold plants] all over the air. I remember being fascinated over the happiness in the townspeople’s faces, celebrating their loved ones who were no longer with them.”
Romero designed her first Catrina after her grandmother passed away, an emotional moment for her as she decorated her face with black and white makeup and little pops of color.
“It was a sea of memories that flooded my head about my grandmother,” she said of her first time putting on Catrina makeup. “It was so empowering. Not only was I proud of myself for being able to re-create such a look, but also having the deep connection with my grandmother once again. She taught me so many things, and that is why I love creating Catrina looks. Every one of them has elements that connect me to her, such as her favorite colors, flowers, her rebozos, and elements also from her town of Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.”
Having inherited her grandmother’s creativity, Romero also honors her by sewing her own clothes, crafting her own headpieces, and doing her own Catrina makeup. She also enjoys seeing the Catrina creations of fellow revelers.
“In my family, celebrating Día de los Muertos has brought so much healing,” Romero says. “It has helped us to view death from a different perspective, viewing death not as a loss but allowing us to love and honor our loved ones who have passed in a different way. Keeping their spirit alive and passing down the traditions they taught us for our future generations to learn, appreciate, and pass them down to those generations who are still to come.”
It keeps a beautiful tradition alive.
Photographer Gustavo Mejía, better known as Gus Mejia Arte, helps keep the Catrina tradition alive from behind the camera. He’s photographed hundreds of people in La Catrina makeup and made it his mission to help bring La Catrina to international awareness.
“The Catrina, to me, it means culture, a festive symbol of the Día de Los Muertos,” he tells Glamour. Mexican born but now an American citizen, Mejía believes it’s his job to keep this part of his culture alive.
With Catrinas as the singular subject of his photography career, Mejía dedicates himself fully to each shoot, from choosing the right location and wardrobe to spending hours perfecting the perfect Catrina look for the shoot.
“I would like to take La Catrina to another level, where it can be recognized worldwide and for everyone to enjoy this beautiful tradition,” he says.
Catrinas are about more than just glamorous makeup.
L.A.-based Mexican American artist Judith Bautista has been crafting Catrinas since she was 17 years old. In 1998 she was invited to participate in a local Día de los Muertos event and has been doing it ever since. “I just fell so in love with the tradition,” Bautisa tells Glamour. “My mom raised me telling me stories about how it was celebrated in Mexico, but to experience it for the first time was so enchanting. And I found it so romantic, all the rituals that went into honoring your deceased loved ones.”
For Bautista, what makes crafting Catrinas and plain skull makeup special is honoring ancestors: “I love doing the beautiful makeup, but it’s not what really matters about this holiday. It’s about honoring your ancestors, not about looking beautiful—although it’s fabulous to look beautiful.”
Whether with glamorous creations or simple skulls, tying Día de los Muertos makeup back to culture and the history of the tradition is the most important aspect. For Bautista, anytime she creates a Catrina for a client, she tries to tie it back to the person they’re honoring in some way, perhaps through their favorite colors or flowers.
Bautista says it’s important for her to connect with her clients not only for technical reasons, but because for Día de los Muertos in particular, it becomes spiritual. “People come to your chair in a vulnerable state, and you're able to lift their spirits and help them honor somebody that they love,” she says. “It’s like, now you carry that story with you too. Just talking about it gives me chills.”
Bautista notes the importance of making Catrinas festive, colorful, and meaningful, and stresses that people should stay away from making their skull makeup look like horror. Her biggest advice to someone crafting their Catrina for the first time is that the makeup should be customized to accentuate their own features: “It’s not one size fits all.”
Marilyn La Jeunesse is a writer in New York City. Follow her on Instagram @mtlajeunesse.
