KC makeup artist who helped people find confidence died after battle with cancer
Ramon Stewart grew up with a love for beauty and fashion.
When the Kansas City, Kansas native chose to make his living as a makeup artist and esthetician, or licensed skin care specialist, he aimed to do more than apply foundation, eyeliner or blush. He carried a gift for helping people tap into their confidence and encouraging them to live fearlessly.
He made everyone, from the clients he serviced to the friends he cherished, feel beautiful inside and out.
Stewart, owner of King of Plastics studio at 3829 Main St., died on Oct. 23. He was 45. He was born in KCK, the son of Ronald Foster and Reba Stewart on September 22, 1980, but later moved to Raytown where he graduated from Raytown High School. Stewart went on to attend Heritage College to pursue his passion for beauty and artistry. He graduated in 2011.
His friends said his special power as a makeup artists was that he believed deeply in building up his clients’ sense of self-worth.
“He told me he wanted women to know they’re beautiful,” said Brandi Berry, Stewart’s long-time friend. “That you don’t have to meet the traditional beauty standards. Your nose, your lips, your size, all the things that the beauty industry says isn’t beautiful, are beautiful on you.”
Berry remembers how at his core, Stewart wanted people to feel seen, valued and uplifted. His work was less about glamor and more about affirmation.
“He loved anything makeup related but he loved making people feel good even more,” Berry said.
Karis Harrington, a close friend for 17 years, remembers experiencing his outgoing personality the moment they met. While walking on the Country Club Plaza one day, she was stopped by Stewart, a stranger who began complimenting her style.
“He just started talking about my clothes,” said Harrington. “My sister assumed he was someone I knew because he was so familiar. That’s who he was.”
Harrington believes many of his friendships were built the same way: rooted in humor, style and instant familiarity. She watched him connect people across different backgrounds with nothing more than charisma and genuine warmth.
“I think he was happiest when the people around him were happy and that is probably why he worked so hard to lighten everyone’s mood or be funny or complimentary,” she said.
Bonds were formed
Stewart’s friends said that he had a way of walking into a space and immediately drawing attention through his positive energy. Berry described him as having a “celebrity-like” aura.
“I always called him the mayor,” said Berry. “He would walk in and he knew everyone in the room.”
His friends talked about how Stewart’s giving nature showed most clearly in the way he treated them. Berry said whether they were facing divorces, illnesses, setbacks or crises of confidence, he showed up without hesitation.
Casie Murff, owner of Bevel Barber Lounge at 4329 Troost Ave., formed a bond with Stewart when the makeup artist moved into the suite next door at his previous location. They had known of each other in their youth but reconnected decades later, developing a friendship built on respect and shared entrepreneurial drive.
“Anytime I ever needed him, he was there,” said Murff. “He loved giving and spreading knowledge.”
Stewart supported Muriff’s business wins too. He cheered him on as his barbershop received a hefty grant from a local non-profit to grow his business. He made business connections on his behalf and never missed a moment to affirm him.
“He always told me how proud he was of me and he believed I was going to do great things,” Murff said.
Stewart also brought vibrancy to his own business. As a skilled esthetician, who loved skincare as much as makeup, he built a steady clientele and traveled to local news studios to prepare on-air talent.
An obituary, posted online by Lawrence A. Jones and Sons Funeral Chapel, said that Stewart also “worked with several world-renowned beauty brands, including Lancôme and bareMinerals,” and was one of the first Black male makeup artists at MAC Cosmetics on the Plaza in Kansas City.
Friends say Stewart fought cancer for nearly three years with remarkable grace. Even on days when treatment left him exhausted, they say, he made sure others laughed. He gave everyone nicknames and cracked jokes in moments that would have crushed most people.
Through surgeries, grafts, radiation and fatigue that left him unable to stand, he still found ways to laugh. Harrington remembers him struggling with the emotional toll of losing his hair and independence, but still trying to accept invitations and make others smile.
Last conversations
“Days before entering hospice, he called me,” said Harrington. “He asked what I was doing and ended the call by saying ‘Why don’t you have a man?’ Then he hung up.”
She said she hung up in tears, laughing at his joke while also feeling the weight of losing someone who had been a pillar of support for more than a decade.
Harrington said Stewart showed her how to seize every moment with gratitude.
Berry said he taught her the most important truth she now lives by: “Wasted time is wasted life.”
Berry recalled that just over a month ago doctors said Stewart had six months to a year to live. Thirty-four days later, he was gone.
Murff remembered his last conversation with Stewart, when his friend spoke about his legacy and how he hoped to be remembered.
“He just wanted to be a good person,” Murff said. “He wanted to make an impact on this world and I know he definitely did touch many lives.”
Murff said Stewart’s blueprint on confidence will guide how he expands his shop, with plans to dedicate a room, or partner with a cancer organization, in Stewart’s honor.
Stewart planned his own funeral carefully. He wanted everyone in white, with white flowers and no carnations.
The church was packed from wall to wall, Murff said. Large portraits stood beside his white and gold casket. Stewart wanted his friends and family to remember the light, not the darkness.
After the service, butterflies were released at the graveside. He also made sure his favorite foods were served afterward, an inside joke among friends who knew how critical he could be of cooking and how determined he was to make sure the meal in his honor would meet his standards.
Friends said that it was just like him, that even after he was gone, he was still making people smile.
For those who knew him, Stewart’s legacy is simple. He believed everyone deserved love, humor, beauty and generosity, and he offered those gifts freely. Though his loved ones lost a true friend, they know his life will be reflected in every person he touched.
“If you didn’t get the pleasure of meeting him, you really missed out,” said Harrington. “He brought a light into the lives of the people he met, that is really hard to put into words.”
In addition to his many friends, Stewart is remembered by his parents and his siblings, Audrey Harris, Ronesha Powell, Garron Lovelace Jr., Danielle Stewart, Chantel Foster, Ashli Johnson, Keliece Lovelace, Kelaiah Lovelace, and Kemiah Lovelace; and a host of aunts, uncles and cousins.
