August 12, 2016 |
Beauty, or should that be make-up, has always been a mystery to me. Watching people apply it without disfiguring their faces is like watching a magician saw someone in half. Painful. I mean, I pluck an eyebrow and it bleeds. How? I do not know. And that’s before we even get onto the subject of keeping it on ones face. Every morning, when I wake, before I leave the house to be shackled to my desk in the 10 basement, make up is applied. A quick glance in the mirror before I leave confirms that something resembling a ‘beautifying’ product has been applied. And then I make the mistake of glancing in the office mirror, where upon I discover that it’s all mysteriously disappeared, apart from the mascara which has somehow traveled down my face to my jaw line creating a rather fetching 5 o’clock shadow. Sexy. Which is why I am a devotee of what is known as the bare faced look. Or as others, when gazing upon my beauty might kindly put it, bloated, blotchy face of recently deceased corpse in morgue. Not quite waterlogged yet, but on the verge. AW16 models. Notice how their skin glows with health. There’s a fucking rosy hue to those cheeks that as not been attained through seeping last nights booze through your pores. They don’t have any pores in the first place. The glow does not come from sweat. The smoothness of skin is such that it can only be attained with a scalpel. Or in the case of these fresh faced ladies genetics. And the merest hint of blush. Should you want to achieve this look at home I could offer you some tips but I don’t know of any. Let’s be honest, the only hope I have of pressing reset on my face is burning it off and starting over.
