Family Daze
Makeovers make the point - the old look is more than fine
By Debbie Farmer
There are two kinds of women who apply their own makeup: those who emerge from their boudoir each morning looking polished and sophisticated; and those who, like me, spend most of their adult years ping-ponging between the natural look and that of the raccoon family--never getting it quite right.
So for my 30th birthday, I decided to get a complimentary makeover at one of those chic department stores that sells expensive perfumes and imported leather bags.
I sat down in an empty chair next to several brands of makeup that I couldn't pronounce, and tried to explain to the 18-year-old beauty consultant what I wanted.
"I want bigger eyes, more cheek bones and less chin," I said, trying to demonstrate with my hands. "You know, kind of like a young Farrah Fawcett."
"Who?" she said.
"Never mind."
She handed me a mirror and I held it face up on my lap as she cleaned off my old makeup and applied liquid foundation to even out my skin. As she worked, I began to relax.
Soon I would rise above being the type of person who puts on mascara at red lights during the car pool, and become a sophisticated woman who looks as if she just emerged from a Vogue photo shoot and is on her way to a charity function at the Ritz Carleton.
Then the consultant showed me a palette of eye shadow colors.
"What colors do you like?"
Now, even though I'd never had this done, I had a hunch this was something that she was supposed to tell me.
I suppressed the urge to blurt out, "Do you think I'd be walking around like THIS if I knew what looked good?" Instead, I obediently looked at the colors.
Now, normally, my first choice would be a nice combination of burgundy red and hunter green. But since those colors look best on, say, ottomans, I scanned the palette for a second choice.
I finally chose gold and beige since they were nice, neutral shades. I waited patiently while she slathered several coats on my lids.
Next, I chose a black eyeliner pencil. But, since I'm always a little bit leery when someone is coming towards my eye with a sharp object, I couldn't sit still while she applied it.
"Let me show you how I do it," I said finally, taking the eyeliner out of her hand.
When I finished accenting my eyes, she handed me several lipsticks to choose from. After much deliberation, I finally chose a festive auburn color that looked great on the stick. As she applied it, I imagined my thin lips becoming luscious, full and pouty--sort of a cross between Drew Barrymore and Mick Jagger.
But when I looked into the mirror I was shocked to see that my normally demure, translucent lips were now bright orange and protruding out of my face, just as the smiling yarn mouth on a monkey sock puppet.
"What do you think?" she asked, brushing vibrant red blush on either cheek.
As I looked into the mirror I couldn't help thinking that my new makeup might look better on someone else--like a cast member of the Rocky Horror Picture Show--than on a suburban mother of two. So I did the only thing I could think of: I whipped out the tube of lipstick I kept in my purse.
"Do you have something in this color?" I said, rubbing my lips with a tissue.
She shook her head, so I opened the tube and applied my own lipstick. Then I rubbed off some of the eye shadow with my fingers, and swiped another tissue over the blush on my cheeks to create my usual muted rose tone.
"There," I said, dabbing the liquid foundation with the translucent powder compact I kept in my purse. "Perfect."
As I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I calculated that it would cost me about three times as much to have the same look I had as when I left the house. Naturally, the only wise and prudent thing to do was to stick with the makeup I already had. But somehow this just felt wrong. So just to make myself feel better, I bought a tube of $20 clear lip gloss and stuck it in my purse.
Sometimes it's just better that way.
Debbie Farmer can be contacted at ParadigmTSA@familydaze.com or Debbie Farmer, c/o ParadigmTSA, P.O. Box 111372, Stamford, CT 06911-1372.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
