Occupational licensing holds Pennsylvanians back

Jasmine is an artist, and her face is her canvas.

She has skin so flawless you couldn’t find a pore with a Hubble telescope. Her winged liner is drawn with the type of exacting symmetry that is usually reserved for only the glossiest of magazine ads. The Brooklyn-born makeup artist knows her face is her business card. For her, skincare and makeup isn’t about superficiality and vanity — it’s a form of expressing empowerment and self-esteem.

But even as her promising professional career blossoms, a formidable obstacle has emerged that jeopardizes her livelihood: the government.

Pennsylvania law requires makeup artists to obtain a cosmetology or esthetician license, both of which Jasmine lacks. These state-mandated endeavors are time-consuming and costly, requiring hundreds of hours of unpaid training and thousands of dollars in licensing fees and tuition.

For example, in most cases, Pennsylvania requires cosmetologists to complete at least 1,250 hours of study at a cosmetology school (the average cost of tuition in the commonwealth is about $15,000), or have completed 2,000 hours of work as an apprentice at a salon under the tutelage of a licensed cosmetology teacher.

There’s also an entrance exam, a $118 license fee, and an $82 renewal fee every other year.

“That’s a lot of money,” said Jasmine, who’s 38. She told me that because she doesn’t have much formal education or credit history, it has been a struggle trying to establish a life on her own.

Despite the financial burden, Jasmine first tried doing things “the right way.” She applied for student loans but was rejected. She’s worked to save money to obtain her license, but she tells me it’s just not feasible to do that and keep a roof over her head.

Jasmine so fears retribution from the government for criticizing its policies that she only agreed to be identified in this column by her first name.

To be sure, Jasmine recognizes the importance of health and safety in her profession.

“They have [Occupational Safety and Health Administration] standards that they have to follow, which is fine,” she said. But Jasmine added that a certificate of safety shouldn’t take so much time or money.

“Estée Lauder didn’t have an esthetician license,” Jasmine said of the cosmetics icon, who founded the company that bears her name in 1946.

Like Lauder, Jasmine refuses to be a casualty of her circumstances. Victimhood is not an option.

Demonstrating an abundance of grit and without an ounce of entitlement, Jasmine maintains a frugal lifestyle with few indulgences. She told me she finally saved enough money to move from her unremarkable apartment in Norristown to nicer dwellings in Chestnut Hill.

Jasmine told me she’s spent most of her life without much in the way of everyday comforts. She said she was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, a faith in which pursuing higher education or even maintaining friendships with those from other religions is discouraged.

Jasmine managed to obtain a technical degree in massage therapy. But, enmeshed in a tumultuous relationship with her former husband, she was unable to renew her certifications. After a difficult divorce, Jasmine said, she had no skills, no education, and she felt the years ebbing away.

“We’ll hear individuals say, ‘Pull yourself up from the bootstraps,’” Jasmine told me. “Well, first, you need a bootstrap.”

Cosmetics provided more than a bootstrap — it offered salvation. She first started doing makeup on friends. Then, in 2006, she found a job selling Estée Lauder products at a major retail store. Her employers weren’t worried about certifications, only skill and work ethic — things Jasmine has in abundance.

“When I started doing makeup, it was just a natural talent,” she said.

Pennsylvania’s arbitrary regulatory environment threatens the humble livelihoods of talented, hardworking individuals like Jasmine. Home to more than 2,400 permits, licenses, and certifications, the Keystone State is long overdue for regulatory reform.

And this reform requires more than the trivial, lackluster response provided by Gov. Josh Shapiro. As one of his first acts as governor, Shapiro required agencies to catalog their regulatory processes. But rather than call for a drastic reduction of this monstrous regulatory burden, the Shapiro administration instituted the paltry “money-back guarantee,” offering a meager refund to applicants who didn’t receive a timely response from the state.

People like Jasmine don’t need refunds, they need to work without fear of the government upending their lives. The Shapiro administration should be removing barriers to entry into the workforce and upward mobility, not adding extra burdens on the path from poverty to prosperity.

Jasmine told me her big dream is to touch the lives of more people. She wants to start a camp focused on building up the self-esteem of boys and girls with an eye toward improving their mental health. So they can “see the beauty within and not give up,” Jasmine said.

A woman of her gifts, grace, and grit will no doubt do so — if the government doesn’t get in her way.