Not Quite Old Makeup #2
Back to the three levels of Makeup:
I figure I wear Makeup #1 – Walmart makeup – 10 times per year, and Wedding makeup, twice. That means for 353 days out of 365, I wear makeup #2, Work Makeup..
Work makeup is appropriately named. Not only because I wear it to work. Because it works. I have been wearing most of this stuff since I turned 14. I wear (in order):
- Primer (Okay this is new this year… love this stuff)
- Eye Liner
- Eye Shadow
- Brow Pencil (I admit this is relatively new too – since I recently found out that eyebrows do indeed go gray)
That’s nine steps… not too bad. And the nine steps are only seven products right now, since I use my nice pinky-brown blush as shadow, and the smudgy tip from my liner to assist my graying brows.
These seven items fit nicely inside a small bag when I travel (which I almost never do.)
But my makeup cabinet looks like this:
Why do I have all these products when I need seven? Because I am a sucker.
I love drugstore makeup because I can try all kinds of stuff without spending lots. I love expensive makeup because the exquisitely made-up lady at the makeup counter tells me I need it, and because it smells really good. Because one of these days I am going to find something that makes me exquisite.
Some of this stuff I buy, I love. And my new shadow, blush, whatever, quickly replaces my previous love. This is sort of like how I treated boyfriends when I first started wearing makeup.
Some of my purchases don’t work at all…wrong color, wrong texture, bad smell. This is often the case with drugstore purchases, since I can’t open it right in the aisle and give it a whirl. But sometimes even stuff I try on turns out not-so-good. It makes me break out (which is quite discouraging when you’re old), or gives me hives (even worse). And sometimes horrible mistakes just happen – like when I got one of those tiny samples of foundation that was glued in a little foil dot inside a magazine, and it was a fantastic texture, but too dark, so I went directly to Sephora and the fabulously made-up girl half my age helped me pick the exact right shade; but when I got home it was…well…yellow.
Some of it is just old, and what’s left won’t come out, or reminds me of some scary online story about germy makeup.
I could throw out all the unfortunate choices, old stuff, and jilted loves. But I can’t.
I might need them.
– Pale lips could come back – like I wore in the 60s.
– Fuschia blush might come back into style – like I wore in the 80s.
– I might even come down with jaundice and then I’d have the right foundation for my trip to the hospital.