Move Over, Estée Lauder

LESLIE BLODGETT’S color-splashed corner office on the 23rd floor overlooks the financial district, the cement-beige Ferry Building at the rim of the Embarcadero and, in the distance, the sullen grays of San Francisco Bay. The soaring panorama befits the high priestess of Bare Escentuals, a line of chemical-free mineral powders that have revolutionized the way millions of American women — particularly those under 40 — think about makeup.

Ms. Blodgett, a familiar face on QVC, has been compared to Max Factor, whose invention of pancake foundation swabbed on with a wet sponge in the 1930s transformed the cosmetics industry. Wander along the vanity aisle of any drugstore and Ms. Blodgett’s influence is apparent, as giants like Revlon and L’Oréal have been compelled to come out with their own mineral lines.

In her funky brown Gucci mules, straight Gap jeans, dappled-green scarf and blue jacket from Anthropologie, Ms. Blodgett, 48, hardly exuded the regal calm of an industry leader — or even the Zen-centeredness of her adopted Bay Area home. “I don’t veg-out or chill,” she said, wriggling in her seat like a child. At work, she is known for crazy marketing schemes and wackiness — she did the splits onstage at the beginning of an all-company meeting in April, and led a group dance to Rihanna’s “Only Girl (In the World)” — not laid-back cool.

And perfectly groomed, creamy-smooth sentences are too much to ask. “I have trouble just talking,” Ms. Blodgett said, with her slight, but oddly beguiling, speech impediment. “My vocabulary isn’t large. I just keep saying ‘amazing’ and ‘awesome.’ ”

An unlikely QVC star, she communicates in other ways, with her expressive face and brown giant-orb eyes, which were surely created by a makeup god for liner and shadow. Her arms are always gesturing.

But let’s zero in on the hands, the way the QVC camera does when she peddles the miracle minerals. Her manicure: short nails, clear polish. Her fingers: agile. The ring: an epic diamond surrounded by sapphires and emeralds, which, as Ms. Blodgett’s social media followers know (it is the other way she communicates) was an early 20th anniversary present from Keith, her stay-at-home husband, and picked out at Tiffany’s in New York in October. “Actually, we went into the store just to replace my wedding ring,” he said in a phone interview, “but Leslie came out with that.”

On QVC, Ms. Blodgett’s appearances have the trance-inducing sensuality of a Dionysian ritual, as she applies foundation to a bare-faced woman. In the Bare Escentuals world, this is called a “make under.” The minerals are light, almost translucent, and it is sometimes hard to know what, if anything, they are doing.

Ms. Blodgett’s fingers grasp a small jar and twist off its black lid. A special brush appears (53 varieties are shown on the company’s Web site) and soft bristles are swirled in minerals, which have now vanished from sight.

Swirl. Tap. Tap-tap. The brush is tapped on the edge of the lid. A trace of mineral smoke rises.

What comes next, like all things cosmetically radical, seems strange and scary and potentially the answer to your skin-care prayers. Ms. Blodgett gently sweeps the brush across the woman’s face. In Bare Escentuals terminology, this is known as “buffing.”

Not since Estée Lauder dabbed Youth-Dew behind the ears of thousands has a lone woman so influenced the beauty industry.

Last summer, in Lady Gaga’s tour bus, Ms. Blodgett rolled across the East Coast on a 10-city tour, buffing initiates and meeting thousands of fans and self-described “BE addicts” who tape Ms. Blodgett’s infomercials and confess on social networking sites that they are facing financial ruin from compulsive brush collecting. Women come with tearful testimonials (the product was originally marketed to those with rosacea and acne scars), and they are hungry for more tips.

Nothing is obvious, or easy, when transitioning to minerals. The conversion process is just that, a process.

“You have to explain this product almost the way you have to explain a person,” Ms. Blodgett said. “I am not good at selling, really. I am just an explainer, an educator.” She added: “It even took my mother a couple years to try it. I wasn’t going to force it on her.”

Ms. Blodgett’s mother comes up a lot. She is like an off-camera guest presence on QVC. Ms. Blodgett’s father, who died 11 years ago, was a science teacher with his own community television science show for children, and would seem to be the inspiration behind her own success on TV. But Ms. Blodgett said it was her mother, Sylvia Abualy — a 1970s feminist and home-economics teacher on Long Island at Smithtown High School West (which Ms. Blodgett attended) — who nagged her to success.