I can often be heard touting the virtues of wearing no make-up. “Have you seen the photos of Pammy sans make-up?? She’s prettier!” “Men don’t like make-up anyway!” “How ridiculous to need to wear make-up!” And god knows how much mileage I’ve gotten out of Alannah Hill’s statement a few years ago that in the (approximately) ten years or so with her ex-and-father-of-her-child, he never once saw her without make-up (yes, it is sad and insane). And yet should I have to venture further than my mail box, there is no way in hell I will do it without at least a lick of mascara and under-eye concealer.
To be fair, it’s all very well for the Mediterranean amongst us to say they don’t feel the need to paint – they have visible features regardless. Unlike the pale-face whities like me whose features disappear like water evaporating on cement without the aid of cosmetics.
Which brings me to a bizarre thing that happened today which throws so many of my theories out the window.
Having spent the morning on the phone pretty much harassing the world for dues, including the stupid place that installed my dodgy heating, I was at 12.30pm caught during a full-flight whinge to my mother on the phone by the heater fix-it man, who decided to come 30 minutes early. In my pyjamas, bed hair, sans make-up, in the middle of the day. I hate that. After a full 60 seconds of “fuck, jesus, fuck,” (sorry about that mum), I opened the door a crack and gesticulated wildly – “give me one minute to make these pyjamas disappear, bla bla, very busy on the phone, bla bla, I’m not usually wearing my pjs in the afternoon, etc”.
The heating was fixed in around ten minutes and the problem explained. I wouldn’t know what that was though, I was too busy wondering if he’d noticed I have no features.
Well clearly he didn’t as shortly after, I received a phone call from the office girl asking if I was single, as the guy wanted to ask me out on a date.
So go figure. I put all that effort into killer outfits and make-up to wind back the years/pigmentation/eye bags, and the guy thinks I’m a bit-o-alright just as i rolled out of bed. Bless the blind, there’s not enough of them.
Not one to take chances however, next time I answer the door in pyjamas I think I’ll make it these ones from Agent Provocateur.
{ 1 comment }
Alicia - Sea Of Ghosts 08.19.09 at 7:01 am
You are a true talent! x
Comments on this entry are closed.