Make Me Up

I first started using makeup against my mother's rules when I was 12. She wanted to shield my sisters and me from looking too old and too slutty I think. Protect us from what we didn't know. A noble gesture, but I needed that foundation and powder to cover up my acne. Puberty was not kind to me in some ways. I had this greasy face with painful pimples popping up mostly on my chin and around my mouth. Not even two bouts of accutane could stave it off. And makeup was the only thing that made me think no one could see all my facial scarring. It was a necessity. 

Thankfully, once I was about 22 my face cleared up and all I needed before I left the house was a splash of powder and a sweep of mascara so I didn't look like I had just woken up. Up until a few months ago, I had one or two tricks I could pull out for a wedding or a night out. It was my friend Di who changed my mind. She would come to work pulling off funky orange lipstick and vibrant colors on her eyes. It's silly but I was always scared to wear something bold like that. But Di sees clothing and makeup as an extension of her creative self. With a little guidance and some encouragement, Di had me lining my eyes with liquid with the tiniest flair of a cat eye. It's fun. I can't do much else. But it's nice to have a third trick up my sleeve. 

Next up: the smoky eye: