[img]1325|left|Alex Campbell ||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — Yesterday I went to a makeup store with my friend Barb for a trial run of my wedding look. Barb said to me, “We’ll let a professional do it, then buy the stuff and I’ll recreate it.” Sounded good to me.
I am beyond clueless when it comes to makeup. My makeup supply consists of a tube of tinted Clearasil, a tube of SPF 15 lip gloss and mascara. Barb and I walked into the store and were introduced to Makeup Artist. She seemed like she knew what she was doing; went right over to the powder that had been recommended to me and chose a color that matched my, as she put it, pale skin. I prefer the term “fair.” But I wasn’t going to mince words with her right off. Besides, she said I didn’t have any wrinkles. Points for MA!
We stood there at the powder display, and she went right to work. First she asked if I had moisturizer on. Yes. I felt like I had answered a question correctly on a quiz. The next step was primer. I’m not kidding. Paint a bare wall? Primer. Apply makeup to a bare face? Primer. Apparently that was to get my face ready for the makeup. Then came the all-over powder. After that, she put more powder on, under my eyes. I asked her what that was. She said it was concealer, something about shadows. Okaaay. Next up – blush, which she didn’t just put on my cheeks but also my forehead and chin. Who knew? The last step for my face was something she put all over my face so that the makeup would “set.” Wait, set? Like plaster? This was all a little too much for me. Were we renovating a house or getting me ready for my wedding? I had five layers of products on my face, not including the moisturizer I came in with. I had to admit, though, it looked good. Barb took notes throughout.
While my face was setting, the Director in Charge (I’m not kidding, that’s what her name tag said) came breezing over. She suggested we sit down so that we would be more comfortable. I’m glad DiC left us alone; her makeup was very distracting. I guess it was supposed to be dramatic. To me she looked like a vampire, burgundy lips, dark blue and black eye makeup, and jet black hair that was pulled back. Her affect was fake friendly, as if she was just sizing up customers to see who would be good to visit once the sun went down.
Watch Where You Put the Pencil
We went to a stool. I sat down while MA got colors for my eyes that she deemed appropriate. She returned with multiple products. She put primer on my eyelids. Primer—again! She put two shades of eyeshadow on, one for the lids, one for the corners. As she worked on me, I got a good look at her lips. They looked like they had been stung by bees. I tried to concentrate on how nice it felt to be taken care of. Suddenly, MA came at me with a pencil. She said, “Now here’s the eyeliner…” I think I grabbed her arm at that point. I don’t like eyeliner. I didn’t like the idea of her sticking a pencil in my eye. It was like I was going to get a shot at the doctor’s office. I asked if she was going to put the eyeliner on the inside of my lower lids (flashbacks of beginning makeup lessons by naïve girls at school flooded my memory). She said she wasn’t going to, then got the idea to use a cream eyeliner instead of a pencil. We all had a good laugh at my fear of an eyeliner pencil. I mean, here I was, tattooed to the hilt, scared of a little pencil! I laughed nervously.
When she was done, I looked at her work. It looked fantastic. The line was so smooth and straight. Mascara was next. MA had me look at her shoulder while she carefully put mascara on every lash, not at all how I do it at home. I could learn a thing or two from this woman. When she was done with my eyes, I looked like a new woman. I batted my eyelashes for a moment, then got ready for the final step: the lips.
What do you think she did first? PRIMER. I tell you, your face has to be ready for makeup—you can’t just slap it on. She put this disgusting white goo on my lips, then asked me, “Do you exfoliate your lips?” I looked in the mirror. My lips resembled the bark of a birch tree. I said, “Maybe you should say, ‘I see you don’t exfoliate your lips.’” She had an employee bring the special exfoliating product for me to look at. It was called, I kid you not, Brown Sugar. That is exactly what it smelled like. I wanted to eat it. I asked what it was made of, and MA told me brown sugar and oil. It was $22. I told her I’d go into my pantry at home, mix some brown sugar and olive oil, and exfoliate my lips. She laughed. I think.
You May Call Me Clown
She started with lip liner. I could feel her going around my lips as if I were a coloring book. As Barb put it later, MA colored outside of the lines. When women do that, it’s supposed to make the lips appear larger. On me, it looked like a five-year-old had gotten hold of Mommy’s lip liner pencil. She had to experiment with a couple of different colors, both of which were lighter than the lip liner, giving me the appearance of a clown. Barb said something to her about gloss, so my lips got yet another layer. By the end of my makeup session, I had no feeling in my lips. But boy, were they shiny!
My routine ended with a product to keep all of my makeup from sliding off my face. I had this horrible vision of my face melting off two hours after the wedding—but thank goodness that wouldn’t actually happen to me – I’d have all the products on to keep my makeup in place all day long. Barb read off the list of items that were used on my face as if we were in a restaurant and I had placed a really big order. “Powder, blush, lip primer, French fries and a large milkshake. Will that be all?” I looked in the mirror. I loved what I saw, with the exception of my lips, which appeared to be coated with honey from the bees that stung MA’s mouth.
Barb and I split the cost of makeup for the basics, powder, brushes and blush. I don’t even know if we got primer. I won’t tell you how much it cost. I will say that my custom- made wedding sneakers cost less. Vampire in Charge wished us a happy day. We left the store, spent but gorgeous. I found my wedding makeup look. When I got home, the first thing I wanted to do was wash my face. The second thing I wanted to do was take a nap. So I did. Barb will have her work cut out for her on my wedding day. I’ll make sure she eats a big breakfast, perhaps with some brown sugar.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
