In the late 1990s, when brows were often an afterthought—a thin line plucked into submission—Anastasia Soare looked at the face and saw architecture. She saw balance, proportion, and the kind of subtle mathematics Renaissance artists once used to sketch ideal beauty. From this conviction grew a multi-million dollar empire, Anastasia Beverly Hills, and a cultural shift that placed eyebrows at the very center of beauty.
Soare’s trajectory is more than a tale of cosmetics; it is a story of determination, reinvention, and the belief that one’s passions can be refined into a global language. Born and raised in Romania under an oppressive regime, she trained as an esthetician before immigrating to the United States at 30, without speaking English and with little more than the courage to attempt something bigger than survival. By 2018, her company was valued at $3 billion. ‘I achieved not even my wildest dream,’ she said recently. ‘And now, what?’.
Her memoir, Raising Eyebrows, out this fall, confronts that question. The title nods not only to her profession but also to her habit of challenging expectations—of the industry, of immigrant success stories, and of women in business. In conversation, Soare is candid about the uncertainty she felt when she arrived in America, armed only with her training and an instinct that brows were more than decoration. Yet she insists her story is not a manual. ‘In the book, I don’t tell anyone what to do. I just tell my story. Because we all are different,’ she said.
That personal story reads like an allegory of the American Dream. She recalls nights in Romania watching smuggled VHS tapes of Pretty Woman and The Color Purple—the latter starring a young Oprah Winfrey, whose talk show would later become an unexpected classroom for Soare’s English lessons. ‘Every day at 3 p.m. I would watch Oprah,’ she said. ‘I made a deal with my husband: that hour was mine. At first, I didn’t even understand the language. But I said, one day I’ll be on her show, so I need to learn how she asks questions.’
Decades later, Winfrey will interview Soare before a live audience of thousands, closing a loop of unconscious manifestation.
What she built in the meantime reshaped an industry. Soare’s brow-centric philosophy, backed by her early salon work in Beverly Hills, grew into product launches that democratized beauty rituals once reserved for the elite. Her Brow Wiz pencil, Dipbrow Pomade, and a host of other products became staples for a generation of makeup users who came of age in the era of Instagram and contouring. Influencers adopted her line not simply for its branding but for its technical precision. Brows, once neglected, became the exclamation point of the face.
Yet Soare insists her success rests less on talent than on persistence. ‘Yes, talent is important,’ she said. ‘But that’s not everything. The harder you work, the more talented you are.’ In her telling, determination eclipses natural gift, and work ethic refines instinct into mastery. It is an ethos that mirrors her artistry: a series of disciplined gestures that, together, create impact.
The company today is a far cry from the early salon years. Anastasia Beverly Hills operates globally, with products stocked in Sephora and Ulta, and a digital following in the millions. The expansion into full makeup in 2014 marked a new era, and Soare and her daughter Claudia now run the business together, navigating the pressures of scale. ‘When you are small, a mistake is small, you fix it immediately,’ she explained. ‘When you are bigger, mistakes are expensive. Every decision has repercussions.’
That caution has not curbed ambition. This year, the brand reenters skincare, a category Soare first dabbled in two decades ago. ‘I started as a facialist, so skincare is important for me,’ she said. The launch reflects both her origins and her appetite for growth. For Soare, expansion is not about multiplying sales but about maintaining standards. ‘We don’t want a mediocre product. I’m not interested in launching just another product. We need to launch a product that is wow.’
The insistence on excellence, paired with a refusal to be complacent, explains why she continues to work even after surpassing the benchmarks of success. At 67, she says she feels freer than ever to be photographed, to speak publicly, and to savor the confidence that comes with achievement. At a recent dinner, she recalled a conversation with other women over 50 who joked that at a certain point, you become like men—you stop caring what others think.
‘You’ve done it,’ Soare said. ‘You are successful, you achieved some of your dreams. And now you are so confident, you don’t care anymore.’
Still, she refuses to see her career as finished. Instead, she casts the next chapter in terms of giving back: mentoring younger entrepreneurs, guiding others to pursue their own improbable dreams. ‘Life is about that,’ she said. ‘Helping other people to fulfill their dreams.’
There is something quintessentially American in her story, but also something distinctly personal: a woman who turned her craft into an empire, who sharpened her skills as a way of sharpening herself. Anastasia Soare did not just raise eyebrows; she raised the standard of what was possible for a beauty founder, for an immigrant entrepreneur, for anyone daring to turn passion into destiny.
