Picture the scene. It’s sunny. You’re in the garden at a friend’s house, having a cheeky afternoon Pimm’s. Suddenly you realise that the tinted moisturiser with a vague SPF that you put on at nine that morning probably isn’t cutting it, and indeed you start to feel that tell-tale tingle on your forehead. Continue reading…
When my stepdaughter was doing a school project a couple of years ago, she asked her dad and me if we had gone to school ‘in the olden days’. We laughed of course. But I suppose, when you’re eight, the 1970s were the olden days. Just in the same way that the stories our parents regaled us with about powdered egg seemed like they were from another time.
Even back in the 70s and 80s I remember a lot less choice when it came to items of a beauty product nature. So I’m painfully aware of how I would have struggled to get by with the limited resources that were available to women during World War Two. But despite rationing and shortages, women did not give up. Quite the reverse – make-up helped them feel more feminine and positive about the chaotic world around them, and indeed propaganda encouraged them to make the most of themselves, whether they were in the services, working in a factory or staying at home. Now I just feel spoilt. Continue reading…
I don’t travel well. I like it when I get there, but the process itself is not very appealing to me (delicate little hot-house flower that I am). It’s all too much about mixing with the general population, using public toilets, carrying your products in a plastic bag… If I wanted to do this kind of thing I’d go and live in Sainsbury’s.
I don’t like flying, either. Which made a trip to Australia a few years ago one of the worst journeys of my life. It’s quite an achievement to stay incredibly tense and incredibly bored for an entire 24 hours. But when you’ve watched Eddie Murphy’s tour de force, ‘Daddy Day Care’, for the third time during a particularly bad patch of turbulence over the Himalayas, you’ll realise it’s entirely possible. Continue reading…
Getting out of the door in the morning has never been that easy for me. Years ago, it was because the school I went to insisted we cart about, on a daily basis, an assortment of lacrosse sticks, straw boaters, gym kits and bibles. (I actually went to school in an Enid Blyton novel, as a couple of my readers will verify.)
In what I shall now refer to as The Interim Years, getting out of the house was made even more difficult by the fact that I often woke up in someone else’s. That sounds bad. OK, it was bad. But we were all young once. Which leads me nicely on to the here and now, where leaving in the morning has become a kind of bizarre performance art act involving such scenes as ‘Jewellery Is Eaten By Baby’, ‘Mother Has Poo on Her Face’ and ‘Why The Hell Didn’t I Iron This Last Night?’.
If there is an opportunity during the course of an average day for me to embarrass myself, any higher power up there will ensure that I take it. It’s always been this way. To the point where, looking for an example to illustrate my point, I was shocked at the vastness of my own personal library of blush-inducing scenarios. I’ve plumped for a personal favourite from about four years ago. Enjoy. (Oh and I’ll get onto the beauty stuff shortly. Don’t be so impatient.)
It was a sunny August day during the Edinburgh Festival. Princes Street was heaving with shoppers, and interspersed with entertainers and their mini-audiences. But I was in a hurry, and busy texting as I pushed on through the crowds. Unfortunately, what I saw as a clear patch of pavement ahead was actually covered in those metal desk toys that were quite the thing in the 80s. And the ‘act’ (if you can call it that) co-ordinated by the guy selling them, was to get them all moving at the same time. Rubbish, I know. But it turned out that the people watching thought it was great. Which is why they booed me as I inadvertently ploughed through the whole lot, sending little rowing men and cyclists flying in all directions. One even got caught in my flip-flop (I think it was maybe a dolphin), which meant I actually had to stop and remove it, to the sound of even more boos.
There is a point to all this: shame. I believe (although not that strongly) that’s it’s possible to hold your head high whatever you accidentally walk through – as long as you’re not committing any beauty faux pas. So here, without further rambling, are my Top Tips For Avoiding Embarrassment.
1. Some crazy old star of the silver screen, can’t remember which one, used to spend about four hours every morning putting her make-up on in an intensely magnified mirror that was lit by bulbs which recreated the brightest daylight possible. Mad as a goat, clearly, and I’m not suggesting you do the same, but it is a crime against make-up (is such a thing possible? Maybe I am the goat…) to put it on in a dimly-lit bathroom on a dark winter’s morning, and then expect it to look good when you’re standing in the street at lunchtime in full sunlight. Be told.
2. Blend. I know, we’re no longer in the smudgy 90s, and a sharp line is acceptable when it comes to a nice bit of eyeliner or some vampy lips. But it looks flippin’ awful when people don’t blend their foundation properly around their jaw-line. I have seen pictures of Victoria Beckham sporting a shade on her face that bears no relation to the colour of her neck. Is she paying people not to mention this?
3. Do you ever find yourself trying really hard not to look at someone’s flaky mascara, but then feeling your eyes strangely drawn towards the offending clumps? It’s the make-up equivalent of having an overwhelming urge to shout “comb-over!” at men who, well, have a comb-over. Or is that just me? Anyway, if you’re getting clumpiness, it’s time to a) change your mascara (Maybelline’s Great Lash is only a fiver and it’s a work of genius), b) put less on (and don’t let it dry off too much between coats) or c) just carry a mirror in your handbag. What are you, a farmer?
4. Chipped nail varnish might look cool on Cameron Diaz, but on us it just looks trashy. But what to do it you’re caught out with no remover? This really is a top tip… Do you know what else gets of nail varnish? Nail varnish! I know, crazy. But true. If you’ve ever made a mess of your nails and don’t have anything to just take the whole lot off with, use the polish itself.
5. Finally, fake tan. Who hasn’t felt utterly confident in their application only to wake up with palms the colour of Irn Bru? My tip is to buy a big box of surgical gloves from Boots. (Don’t feel you have to explain to the assistant what for. You will arouse suspicion. Choose a branch you don’t normally go to, pay and leave.) Apply all your tan with the gloves on, than slap a bit extra on your thighs. Carefully remove the gloves, then wipe the backs of your hands up your thighs. Take a cleansing wipe and run it lightly over your elbows, knees and heels. Any mistakes in the morning can be remedied by Clinique’s fearsome Clarifying Lotion. Or some De-Icer – they smell the same.
It’s morning chez moi. Sunlight pours into a vast, uncluttered bedroom, interrupted only by the billowing white gauze curtains. In the marital bed, my husband and I, both lightly bronzed and clad in simple yet sexy white underwear, embrace passionately. We laugh as we are disturbed by the patter of feet – it’s the children! Similarly clothed in immaculate white, they run giggling to the bed. We all laugh, have a pillow fight, and then descend for pancakes and freshly squeezed juice.
Of course, this is complete rubbish. A genuine scenario goes more like this: It’s morning chez moi. I’m not sure if what’s woken me is the strimmer-like sound of my other half snoring, or the strange hooting noise coming through the baby alarm. Either way, it’s 6.45am, still dark, and feels like I shut my eyes about 15 minutes ago. I cuddle into the strimmer but then change my mind as I notice that my top is not only on back-to-front, but appears to have vomit on it. A quick feel of my head confirms that my hairstyle would not have looked out of place on Whitesnake’s 1984 ‘Slide It In’ Tour. And although I may have removed my make-up, my face is as puffy as the wolf in the Three Little Pigs. What to do? Follow my own advice and try some of my Top Tips For Waking Up Gorgeous.
1. I know I bleat on about it every week but fake tan is rather good and putting it on at night is a great idea (if your companion can bear the carvery smell). Johnson’s have made one especially for this purpose, their Holiday Skin Body Lotion Night (£4.99 ish) that promises to help you ‘get glowing while you sleep’. Cor.
2. I won’t/can’t get all scientific on you but it makes sense that while you’re asleep, any anti-ageing/skin refining type products will be able to do a better job. I’ve been using something rather fancy this week, admittedly from a sample, but it’s making me look like Madonna will at about 70, so mustn’t grumble. It’s Ren’s Revivo-Lift H11 Intensive Night Serum (£45.00). Don’t feel obliged.
3. Hair products will always be a messy business if you’re going to use them at night but it can be worth the clean pillowcase. Get as much excess water out of your locks as possible, slap on something like Umberto Giannini Overnight Moisture Balm (£4.99) or Redken’s Real Control Overnight Treat (about £25), then do a French plait starting from right up by your fringe. You will look dreadful (especially if your ears are on at the same angle as mine) but it will be worth it in the morning.
4. We’ve talked cracked heels before and Burt’s Bees do a kit that actually includes night socks. You can do something similar for your feet and hands – assuming that is, you’ve ruled out getting any action, which if you’ve followed steps 1 to 3 you will have by now. Vaseline or liquid paraffin (see, I’m not always high maintenance) slathered on ridiculously thickly, then covered with cotton socks and gloves really works. Who has cotton gloves? Not me. Put some tennis socks over your hands. And maybe wait till your dearest is not so near, at a conference in Birmingham perhaps.
5. If you’re wearing socks on your hands, sporting a hairstyle best left in 1987 and smelling like meat, you’re probably ready to say “In for a penny…”. So, why not chuck on a heavy-duty night time cellulite treatment like Fat Girl Sleep by Bliss (£32)? Who knows, you might wake up looking like Scarlett Johansen. Right, I’m off to buy some pancake mix.
Does it count for anything that I could at least see the irony of coming up with Top Tips For Instant Glam as I pushed the buggy to Sainsbury’s, wearing a coat that looked like it had been recently recovered from a bin?
I do cling onto the fact though that, if need be, I could rise to the occasion, glam-wise. And that’s in spite of living a life that is increasingly encrusted in food and scented by vomit. (I’d really like to make it clear that this is referring to my baby, not my husband… but frankly, it’s a somewhat grey area.)
So, safe in the knowledge that I won’t be asked to prove this in the near future (please), here are my five tips for turning ‘Meh’ into ‘Yeah’:
1. We’ve been over this a few days ago, but the fact remains that pale is really not that interesting. Just to make it more complicated though, orange is interesting in a “look at that freak” sort of way. So try and find a happy medium and you will feel gorgeous, look slimmer, and just generally be glad you put up with the poultry aroma. I really rate Fake Bake’s Airbrush although it turned my shower curtain a weird pink colour and costs £26.95. Lovely natural colour though and the shower curtain went through the machine no problem.
2. Get a blow dry. Or get a friend to do it. Or, last resort, do it yourself and risk the discovery later, in the toilets of whatever fabulous establishment you are at, of a rear view that looks like Noel Edmonds. I’m afraid that, because of my issues, I can’t recommend a product that will suit everyone. Suffice to say I go for anything that has the words ‘unruly’ ‘distressed’ or ‘flatten’ in the name.
3. Focus your make-up on your eyes. I think it can change your look the most dramatically – and has the added bonus of lasting all evening, unlike lipstick, which I find a bit of a pain. Why not get an eyelash tint and eyebrow shape the day before? (Any nearer to the event and you risk a red eyeshadow look that’s flattering on nobody). Then it’s up to you, but what works on everyone is well-applied liner (try Max Factor Colour Perfection Eye Liner, £4.88, which a well-trained monkey could put on), a squeeze of the old eye-lash curlers, and some highlightery-pearly-ness on the upper brow bone.
4. Earrings. “They’re not a product!”, you cry. I know. But if you don’t normally wear them, EVERYONE will say you look different/great/pretty. Seriously, you’d have to be wearing your dressing gown for them not to. So get the surgical spirit out and force those blighters in (maybe the day before so your poor little lobes have time to calm down).
5. Now, if you associate fake nails with Jordan and other such style icons, please reconsider. My friend Annie was recently sporting what appeared to be a fantastic manicure. I sat in silent envy for a while and hid my scruffy talons up my sleeves until I had to blurt out “Are they REAL??”. Once we’d all established I meant her nails, she told me they’re called Broadway, you get them from Boots, and they’re only 6 or 7 quid. If I go out again this year and it’s not to Sainsbury’s, I’m going to go and get some.
You’ve got to admire the British public. It’s March. It’s practically still winter. And the temperature has risen to a number that in Spain would signal the purchasing of a large coat that looks a bit like a duvet. But what do we all do? Strip off. Sit outside. Act like it’s flippin’ 1976. (Yes, I do remember. A bit. Feel free to ‘do the math’.)
But for people like myself who thought that opaque tights would save us from public humiliation until at least the end of April, this is a frightening time. With any luck it will snow again next week, but in the meantime, just to look ‘game,’ we need to join in. Show that we do actually have skin, not just a layer of silvery scales and a pair of residual gills, as people will suspect if we continue to wear our Burkha-inspired winter attire.
I’ll cut to the chase. If you are, like me, a pasty, Anglo Saxonish Celtic sort of person, you need help before you get out your legs and arms. Seriously, you do. Nobody really thinks Nicola is the prettiest in Girls Aloud. It’s early in the year though, so rather than dive straight into the sort of fake tan that needs surgical gloves and an oxygen mask to apply, we’ll start with something more gentle, the ‘body lotions with a bit of fake tan mixed in’, which I personally think are a marvellous invention. Some are better than others though. Does that sound ominous enough for you?
Starting as we normally do with the cheaper ‘end’, I tried Johnson’s Holiday Skin, which I believe is quite the bestseller. They’ve re-launched it this year as ‘Light Glow’, which is meant to enhance your skin’s natural colour more gradually, and also not smell like Bisto. I’m quite a tough test for the whole perfume thing as I seem to have the capacity to make any fake tan absolutely reek while others claim that they have used it and it smelt ‘nice’. This one didn’t reek, nor did it smell ‘nice’. It was a bit like Playdough, which is better I suppose than a beef-based cooking product. The colour was good, too. I will purchase again. Nivea’s equivalent is Sunkissed Skin (£5.86), which was OK, although disappointingly streaky around the ankles. And it smelt like chicken. Which admittedly I think my other half quite liked.
Time to ditch the Advantage Card and get serious. St Tropez brought out their Everyday Body Lotion a couple of years ago, and I tried it immediately because I think the colour of St Tropez is actually really natural. This doesn’t disappoint either, but at £12.72 for a not very big tube you are really starting to pay for that poultry aroma. Clinique’s Self Sun Body Daily Moisturizer (£14.68) is equally skint-making and, yet again, odorous, although more like soggy digestive biscuits. The colour was good though. And the moral of the story? If it’s going to make you smell like meat, or indeed biscuits, stick to under a fiver. Or just keep your tights on.
