I have joined the ranks of the living dead. What with my irregular sleeping patterns and mild (not so mild) caffeine addiction, I have been reduced to a shambling, low-guttural-moaning horror movie stock type. I blame last Saturday.
Don’t get me wrong, last Saturday was great! An early morning start to get a 9:45 train to Edinburgh (I forgot the camera. D’oh!) for the day, filled with walking about town eating all sorts of lovely things like Korean food at Shilla on Dunbas street, followed a coffee and a salted caramel and almond brownie at the Cuckoo café, also on Dunbas street (this was divine. I prefer squidgy brownies over cakey ones, and this was the epitome of squidgy. Velvety soft chocolate brownie, with a thick layer of very salty caramel in between, dotted with crunchy whole almonds. Yes. Please.)
Us ladies then totted off for a jaunt in Harvey Nichols (well, the others totted. I rolled along, big belly in tow where said brownie had taken residence.) I really like Harvey Nicks. So far, every trip to Edinburgh has wound up there, amidst the brightly coloured Marc Jacobs iPad cases, the Alexander McQueen scarves and the Wolford tights, we made our way to the beauty counters, because you see, I had an agenda.
Ever since my friend Amelia used her Nars Dolce Vita blush on me, the idea of procuring a Nars blush of my own has been rattling at the back of my mind. While it has served me well, I was getting bored of my L’oreal Paris True Match blush that I’d been using for a good year and a half at least, as awful as that makes me sound. So faced with a massive selection, we were sticking our fingers in several palettes, swatching them onto the backs of my hands before finally making a decision. At the start, I really wanted Dolce Vita, but gradually started leaning towards this one.
Torrid in indoor lighting.
Torrid is a sort of pinkish-coral with red undertones and fine gold shimmer. Although shimmery, it’s not to the point where your face looks like a disco ball, which is a plus point for me, because I already have a shiny face to contend with. (Curse you, over-active sebaceous glands!) The problem with me and make-up counters though is that I have trouble stopping at just one product, and picked up the Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in Dragon Girl.
I really do like how matte lips look. I’d already splashed out on got myself a Chanel Rouge Allure Velvet which in itself was already very nice, but this Nars lip pencil glides on so smoothly I could hardly believe it was matte! Dragon Girl is a blue-toned red, which personally I feel works for me better than say a yellow or orange toned one would.
I put aside some cash at the beginning of the month to go bungee-jumping and rafting, but unfortunately the trip got cancelled (in retrospect, this could have been a good thing.) and decided to blow it all on makeup, because I’m a clever gal that way. (I am going to ignore all of your “are-you-fucking-kidding-me faces".) Moving on to the Benefit counter, again with the poking fingers into various pots and pans, the new Hervana blusher (Her + Nirvana? Oh Benefit. Oh you and your silly puns.) caught my eye, and a helpful young lady came over offering to try it on me.
Word of advice. If a make-up attendant’s make-up makes you cringe, letting her test out product on you is NOT a good idea.
It started off well enough, she showed me what Hervana looked on my face and I was really pleased with the result, but it started going wrong when she tried out the They’re Real mascara. I already had some of my regular mascara on, and that was a contributing factor to my clumping problem, but the bigger issue was that it really felt like she was smearing, yes, smearing mascara all over the place. Worse still, she tried to furiously rub it off using a dry cotton bud. I looked over at my friends and the expressions on their faces conveyed a sort of “what is she doing?” look at the make-up assistant. She then moved on to try out their Industrial Strength concealer on my face but somehow neglected to blend it in under my eyes, leaving me with reverse-panda eyes, i.e being too light underneath. To finish off her work of art, the attendant then produced some highlighter, (to Allisan’s horror) that she proceeded to rub on where she felt appropriate. If you recall my shiny-face syndrome, this couldn’t have ended well. Literally gleaming, I did walk away with 2 of the above products, but politely declined the girl’s offer of a complimentary make-up lesson and makeover, due to logistical issues (such as not living in Edinburgh) and more importantly, shiny was not a good look for me.
Surreptitiously wiping the gunk from my face, I spied Amelia testing out a new Armani lipstick, but somehow, the make=up lady for that counter seemed to have forgotten the left half of her bottom lip, and filled in what was a misshapen, almost triangular patch with a dark syrupy red. While a gorgeous colour, all we could see was wonky lip. I’ve looked at Amelia’s face almost everyday for like what, fifteen years now? She does not have wonky lips. What was up with the make-up universe that day? Gently dabbing the colour off with a make-up wipe, I could hear Amelia muttering “I could’ve done a better job manning that counter….”
Having enough, we went off to Mussel Inn on Rose Street for dinner. Seafood isn’t always very high on my list of favourite foods to eat, but when done well…. I regret not bringing my camera along, but a pot of steaming mussels, stewed in leeks, mustard, wine and their own juices, topped off with heavy cream, with fries and crusty bread for dipping, sublime. There was something visceral about plucking mussels from their shells and popping them into your mouth, armed with nothing other than a pair of empty shells, held in a tweezer-like grip. Moules Mariniere remind me of a weekend in Brussels, walking down cobbled streets, oohing and aahing over beautiful architecture and scoffing down waffles with gusto.
The ending to the dinner story isn’t nearly as serene as the beginning. Whilst casually basking in the afterglow of a full and content belly, Amelia looks down and realizes that our train leaves in ten minutes. Allisan bolts upwards and flings her debit card at the cashier, who must’ve heard our panicked cries (along with half the restaurant) and processed it as quickly as she could, before the four of us wound up doing a power walk to the station and doing a full-on sprint for the last stretch, jumping onto the train with a minute to spare.
You’d think after a full day out and a very noisy train ride (somebody on the train turned 30. Didn’t act like it.) I’d be ready to hit the hay. But no.
I came straight home and headed to a party. My neighbour’s 21st birthday to be exact. I essentially came home, got changed, freshened my makeup and headed out again, and came home at 4 in the morning, meaning I had been awake for 21 hours.
Why do I abuse myself this way?Playsuit - Lipsy
Leather Jacket - New Look
Why does my face never work in photos?
- Diana xxx