Saturday, 14 January 2017

TRUMP V ELLIOTT Make up and stuff.



Melania Trump reckons it takes at least an hour and a quarter to slap a bit of lippy on, and because of this she is redesigning a room at the White House especially for this activity. The room needs to offer perfect light - not sure what that is - but I reckon anything can be bought for a price.

It is of course possible that this is all just utter cods' bollocks from a dishonest cheating American Press, but it seems plausible that a former makeup artist would want somewhere lovely to get out the paints. I wonder if she is gonna continue to paint him orange, and  I wonder if that's gonna stain the Whiteness of the place.

In any case, I began thinking about my rigorous beauty regime.


Bit of Lippy makes all the difference huh?

Yep that's the lazy cow extent of it. Slide on some lippy but only onto the bottom lip and then do a bit of smacking sound and wipe off anything that might have smudged onto my teeth.

If I am going on a date I will try and disguise some of the bags and wrinkles and adult pimply mess and sometimes if I can work up the enthusiasm and effort, I might try to colour in my eyes a smidge, but mostly I reckon I am so completely out of practice that clown makeup is the end result.
It's like anything. It takes practice to be good at it.

When I would head out to work with a full face on, I needed an extra 10 minutes of so, cos I was pretty quick and confidence comes with experience. Now that it is such a rarity it just is something that I need to work up to, like maybe I need to think about it at lunchtime and then have a little sleep and dream on it and then gather up the splodge and line it all up and turn on the fan cos it's a sweat making job. 

There are lots and lots of things I would rather do than colour in my face.

I start with the brown gloop, which my skin finds claustrophobic. I put it on and mostly then wipe it off and then when I am happy that my skin still looks like it did before, I put a line of green eye liner under each eye, a bit of mascara and then for the full effect, I rub some pink powder stuff on my eyelids with my finger. Oh and of course then there's the lippy. DONE.

So how the fuck does anyone spend more than an hour splashing shit about?

Firstly I don't want to look at myself close up for that long. They must be either very pleased and proud of themselves or they must spend a great deal of time sobbing about their flaws, and I guess if they do that then they need to spend even longer covering shit up.

I can be showered, including hair washing, and made up and dressed and outta the house in 30 minutes. If it's hot I might take a little long, but that's only cos the makeup ends up sliding down onto my chest and I need to mop it all up and start again. The starting again almost never happens.

And it's not cos I am not a girlie girl. I reckon I am. I just don't like the way the makeup feels on my face.

A lovely friend of mine, did my makeup one night many many years ago. I just let him go his hardest. I was going out to some sort of pseudo posh thing and thought an effort was required. He did the big Ta - Da reveal when he had finished, and I looked into the mirror and I didn't recognise myself. I didn't like feeling like a fraud. 

I could easily fall into a screaming irrit heap if I spend too long thinking about my face. Fuck knows it ain't what it used to be. But as it's the only one I have, it'll have to do, and I find it strangely comforting to be able to recognise myself when I see my reflection. 

The space filled by make up when I am travelling is approximately one hundredth of that used for the cartage of all the just-in-case drugs and all the usual shit. It just is not that important to me. 

And I suppose I am lucky, cos I am not the one looking at my face. And from my side I see the face of a young, wrinkle free, bright eyed, woman. 

Lucky me!