Not Quite Old Makeup #3
The biggest event most of us attend in any year is the Wedding. Some years, a few other events are thrown in, like New Year’s Eve dances or class reunions.
(Twice I went to the ESPY Awards, but I wouldn’t recommend big award ceremonies…sure it’s fun to take a limo to theatre, and see the press get excited when the limo drives up, and you step out onto the red carpet – and then the press sees that you AREN’T actually a celebrity…well, there should be a special word for that particular ego-deflation.)
Anyway, Wedding makeup should be special. And there’s a secret to Wedding makeup. It’s called Photography. An event like a wedding is just one day. Even if you are the friggin’ bride the event is ONE DAY. The only reason anyone (except the friggin’ bride) remembers it at all is that there are photographs.
So – the trick to wedding makeup is to get made-up to suit photography, not real life.
So go ahead and pile it on.
Think of your face like that horrible wall in your first apartment – full of cracks and nail holes and lumpy spots from old masking-taped posters. What you need is spackle. And all those imperfections will just sort of blend in. So put on the primer to smooth the surface, and then spackle away. Put on your usual foundation, but somewhat thicker. Then take a makeup sponge and blend it in really good. Then, put another layer of foundation on. Yes, go ahead and do it again. Give yourself a whole new complexion that may have nothing to do with your original one. Then apply all the rest of your makeup the same way… two coats of everything, with a good buffing in between.
Now…step away from the mirror. Remember, you are applying your makeup two inches from the mirror. People don’t really look at you up that close. Even if you are getting a hug and a kiss, people are not staring at your skin. Women are closing their eyes and barely touching you, since they wouldn’t want to ruin their own makeup. And men, well, if they are gazing intently when they embrace you, they are already thinking past your makeup application and down to your panties anyway.
So at the correct distance, look again. You look great! Younger, perfectly made up. If you have one of those instant spritzers that sets your makeup forever, use that too. If not, time for a nice dusting of powder over the whole works. This part needs a little care though – powder is aging. But then again, you have filled in the creases so thoroughly it has no place to settle.
For evening weddings, and New Year’s Eve, and even the dreaded class reunion, also remember that it’s dark. And there are cocktails.
When the albums are dragged out years later, no one remembers that at the time you appeared to have graduated from the Ronald McDonald School of Cosmetology. They say, “Geez, she looked great!”
Not Quite Old Makeup #2
Back to the three levels of Makeup:
- Wal-Mart
- Work
- Wedding
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)
- Concealer
- Foundation
- Eye Liner
- Eye Shadow
- Mascara
- Brow Pencil (I admit this is relatively new too – since I recently found out that eyebrows do indeed go gray)
- Blush
- Lipstick
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.
– My skin might get really dry, and I will need really greasy eyeshadow.
I might decide to be Lady GaGa for Halloween.
– I might even come down with jaundice and then I’d have the right foundation for my trip to the hospital.
Not Quite Old Makeup #1
There are three levels of makeup:
1. Wal-Mart
2. Work
3. Wedding
The Wal-Mart level is the minimum makeup I wear out in public. This is the run-to-the-supermarket-for-milk makeup, the cat-ate-a-paperclip-go-to-vet makeup, and the ATM (but not INSIDE the bank) makeup.
For women under forty this makeup level is also called: NONE.
I haven’t done ‘none’ in twenty years. Nine years ago my husband took me makeupless to the ER with critical dehydration, but I won’t do that again. I won’t even go back to that hospital again.
The tricky part of Level 1 makeup is athletic endeavors. How much makeup is appropriate for Yoga? (a little) or Zumba? (a lot, I think.)
Yesterday, my husband and I took our rubber boat to the nearby lake to paddle around for some midsummer relaxation. So I wore:
- Primer – even with no foundation, primer makes my skin look smoother
- Concealer #1– Undereye – I may need to take off my sunglasses
- Concealer #2-Age spots- which could get bigger in the sun
- Bronzer – I need that healthy look to go out and do something healthy
- Lipstick – a neutral, natural shade, but 18 hour duration. The lake is pretty big.
Just about ready to leave, I took one last look at my reflection in the toaster and ran back up to the master bath. Just a little eyeliner. Just a little.
Not Quite Old Tanning
There’s no doubt about it, tanning ages your skin. Unfortunately, white skin ages YOU.
I mean, really, is there anything older than an old lady’s white shin? Perhaps her white thigh, which is why old ladies never reveal anything above the knee.
I have white skin. Luckily, I’m not the burn and peel, burn and peel type of white. I’m pale, but I can tan a little if I go about it gradually. So halfway through summer, I am tan, though I know it’s not good for me.
I don’t mind freckles. They’re healthy looking, whether you are six or sixty. But what I am getting on my face are not freckles. They’re age spots. A little splotch on the side of my nose, another just above my upper lip, and a bigger one on my left cheek. Apparently, these are caused by hormones, but I am not supposed to have any more hormones.
So I have to use concealer on my age spots. I lighten the skin I have deliberately darkened. Tanning is complicated.
My shins are nice though. And the tan blends in nicely with the spider veins.
I haven’t gone overboard. I don’t have that dry leather look that older women get when they tan too much. The only part of me that’s just slightly leathery (a little old suede maybe) is my cleavage. Although cleavage is not really the right word—I ‘d call it the space between my very small breasts.
Oh, wait. I remember why the high school boys thought I was twelve.
Not Quite Old Lips
Thin lips are aging. This is what I see on TV, magazines, web, and cosmetic ads everywhere. Thin lips are aging; plump lips are youthful.
I have thin lips. I have a little mouth with teeny tiny lips. I probably would have been a beauty if I’d been around when Lillian Gish was making silent movies.
Of course, there are solutions. Lip-plumping lipsticks and glosses are the easiest and cheapest. There are two kinds: plenty stinging and plenty gooey. Neither is plenty plumping.
There are also injections of collagen or other stuff to give you nice fat lips. These injections must hurt a lot and cost a lot. But they give you enormous fish lips. But it doesn’t last. It must be weird for your loved ones and co-workers to see you all plumped up and then slowly deflate as the days go on. Only to plump up again. Sort of like the ebb and flow of the tides.
But here is my question: If thin lips are so aging, why did all the boys in high school think I was twelve?
Not Quite Old Blue Jeans
Today is a jeans day. We have no dress code at work, and very casual is the rule.
So today it’s knee-length blue jeans. Bottom of the knee, which is odd, but somehow leg-elongating. Faded, with a slim fit, they have a little slit at the hem so I can bend at the knee.
My co-worker says I look really skinny, which is almost as good as looking young.
Okay, so she’s my subordinate, and has a vested interest in flattering me.
Even insincere compliments count.
Not Quite Old Bathing Suits
The end of July, but the first time this year at the beach.
The teenagers look so great. Bikinis, flat tummies, firm thighs. The women just a little older look a bit more voluptuous–amazingly beautiful, if you can stand the tattoos. Then there’s the thirties and forties. Some thin, some heavy. This is when the move is made out of the bikini and into the one-piece.
Older and older, the bathing suits get bigger and bigger. So here I am, in a bathing suit that could double as an ice-skating outfit for Dorothy Hamill. A little skirt, a loose top that flairs a little over my belly. Pretty in Pink?
And yet I know that this is the best I will ever look, because the next time I go to the beach I will be even older.
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