Lets try something different. I’m currently writing this sat in pub, sodden wet, waiting for my mate to arrive, sipping on my drink and desperately trying not to look like I’ve been stood up. Time to appear busy and non-desperado. So I’ve stumbled across an idea – I’m going to write a little tale. Perhaps I’ll make this a monthly thing; a bit of one-on-one time with my laptop where I’ll type away till my heart’s content with not much rhyme nor reason, resulting in a beauty-themed text for you to peruse. How does that sound? Today I thought I’d cover ‘The Tale of Makeup and Me’. This could be a long one.
It’s an oft-asked question, ‘Why beauty?’, but for me when it came to birthing my blog it wasn’t even a question. I’ve loved anything makeup related back as far as I can remember; from shampooing my dolls hair over the sink (much to my Mum’s despair), to secretly invading Mother dearest’s cosmetics bag and squeezing foundation all over the cream carpet in a slap-dash application (I was such an angel). Serious scolding couldn’t tear me away from the stuff. Scrapping with my sister and incessant nattering in lessons, yes, but makeup? Nope.
I think it was my fourth birthday when I unwrapped one of the best presents I’ve ever received. The aforementioned doll’s head with hair that I could comb, plait, tie and cut (whoops) all day long and a plastic face that immediately rejected powder products the minute that I swiped them on with ‘you will wear blue eyeshadow’ determination. It was love at first sight. Even my lack of styling products didn’t phase me; I just incorporated my Mum’s deodorant as hairspray and her mascara as hair dye. This was followed a few years later by the receiving of my first ever makeup storage. It was a lilac plastic vanity case from Superdrug and inside it housed three large compartments with a take out tray that could all be clipped up and carried along. At the time barely owned a scrap of makeup so instead I kept a nail file, toe separators and a cuticle stick in there. Though my stash soon grew.
My first haul was carried out in the aisles of Superdrug, guided by my older cousin and accompanied with my sister, Aunty and Nan. It was quite the occasion – I must have been about eight. I spent what felt like hours gliding up and down the counters, swatching away on my hand and swiping all sorts of samples on my face not knowing any better. I decided to put my £10 saved up pocket-money to good use at the Miss Sporty Counter and left with a mascara and a bronze cream eyeshadow clacking around in the depths of my handbag. Yes, I’ve carried around a handbag since I was four; it all began with a Mr Blobby satchel.
Things really started to step up when I started Senior School. Gone were the times of cracking out a mascara and lip balm at the weekends, I stepped it up to the good stuff. Glitter. And I even wore it to school. What a rebel. I remember getting a pink glitter chubby-stick style eyeshadow for my 13th Birthday that I decided was the perfect accompaniment for that year’s official school portrait. The picture is still up in my parent’s kitchen today and goes down as one of the less horrendous school snaps which should explain to you just how awful the rest of them were. But the real stars of the shimmer show were two palettes that my best mate Mel had pinched from her Mum’s makeup bag. They were from M&S and one held a turquoise and silver cream eyeshadow and the other a pink and silver duo. We used to meet at the top of the hill each day before school and prior to reaching our destination would plonk ourselves down on a bench on the green and smear the stuff all over our eyelids. No brush involved. Damn we must have looked….interesting. Thankfully no pictures exist of our slapdash green and pink eyeshadow attempts.
Then followed the teenage makeup years which were characterised by bad brows, oompha loompa toned foundation and the eventual demise into false lashes ten times the size of my own. Those were the days. Perhaps I’ll save the deets of that episode for next time…