Being housebound, in the true sense of the word, has had the consequence of not having any reason to colour my hair or wear make up, or buy clothes, or any of that vanity stuff. I look in the mirror and see a greying rather plain looking middle aged woman instead of well, who? Is that me?
In my youth I was vain and image-conscious. Old habits die hard. There's no point in being all dressed up when there's nowhere to go—but when you want to join the real world, even if only for an hour or so, vanity rears it's ugly head and thoughts turn to "what will I wear?" and "where did I put my make up bag?" and "I don't want to go out looking like a dowdy old frump" and so on.
Rediscovering my make up bag, I found that my foundation was almost finished, my mascara had dried up, my blusher had crumbed to nothing and my coloured lip glosses were down to the last scrapings. On a recent trip to Boots I decided to replace my make up with pretty much the same colours as before, only to discover that my favourite 'Very Berry' lip colour had been discontinued and the new colours of the new ranges were not quite to my liking. I guess that's fashion for you. Nothing stays the same. So I decided on what I thought was something similar, only to discover later on that it was some sort of felt pen contraption with a clear lipgloss on the other end. I tried it on at home. It was a dark purplish red, a very strong and obvious shade of non-subtlety that was a bit overpowering on a woman of my age and peely-wally colouring.
Another trip to Boots was in order. I picked the best from a bad lot in the hope that something would suit me better, and once again, the colours were disappointing. Better than the purple felt pen effect but that's not saying much. The lip glossy thing is a bit more subtle but it's sparkly and I didn't want sparkly—but they were all sparkly. I now have three different lip colours, none of which I particularly like. Perhaps I'll get used to them, but somehow I can't see myself warming to that weird felt pen and it's Ribena-like hue. Looking at the bigger picture, is this a sign that I'm picking up and heading towards the next phase—of going out for reasons other than medical appointments? I hope so. Really, I do.
2 comments:
That's a good thought, isn't it - whatever the lip colours :) I remember the old Biba makeup (ah you're probably much too young) - pale, ghostly foundation, eyes as black as coal dust and dark purple lipstick. Admired it from a distance and stuck to lip frosting, blue eye-shadow and panstick.
I actually bought a Biba eye shadow from Miss Selfridge in the early 80s. I think the cosmetics brand carried on long after the Biba shop in London closed, although I think it was one of the big cosmetic houses that bought the rights to use the name.
I have a lovely book about Biba, loads of colour photos of the original dresses and pics of the interiors of the fabulous Kensington department store that I never had the opportunity to see. There's actually been a film made about Biba, It's available on DVD. I keep meaning to buy it.
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