Beloved Mother will probably not be happy to learn that black eyeliner, black mascara, and purple lipstick have returned to my makeup box, on regular rotation, as part of a professional look.
Those of you who are well-versed in girly stuff will already have known that you can't wear the same makeup as a nearly-forty-year-old as you did when you were a teenager. I did not know that, so I had been wearing the same brown eyeliner/brown mascara/clear gloss combo for the last...oh, twenty years? as I had when I was not Going Out and trying to make Beloved Mother Sigh Deeply.
However. This summer I seem to have acquired a tan. A fairly deep tan, for a fair redhead, which means I'm approximately apricot-colored with darker freckles (it looks better than it sounds, I swear). The brown/brown/clear thing simply wasn't working. I looked tired.
So, on a whim the other morning, I yanked out the black eyeliner and mascara. Despite the fact that Flashes had chewed the end of the blending brush I use for smudging eyeliner, I perservered (and will probably end up with some obscure eye infection caused by cat saliva). I used black eyeliner, smudged it with nearly-black/still vaguely brownish/kinda charcoal liner, and added two coats of mascara.
Hm. Okay. I don't look like a Goth or a trollop. Hm. What's this? Purple lipstick? What's the color? "Prince's Toenail Bruise"? Sounds good. Slap some of that bitch on up, then.
And all day? People told me what pretty eyes I have. And how awake and rested I looked. Strangely enough, the solid black liner and lashes look more natural than brown. It's very odd. And the purple lipstick? Sparingly applied, it looks like I've just eaten a dozen habaneros, which, for a girl with my lippage, is saying something.
I'm going off to find that old Einsturzende Neubaten T-shirt now. And maybe consider a flattop. Because I am the epitome of femininity.