Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Spare my blushes

Today I bought my first blusher. My first ever. In my whole life. I suppose you might have one of two reactions to this announcement: 1) just exactly what sort of a feminist/flibbertigibbet/airhead (etc) are you?; 2) what took you so long, and what on earth have you looked like up to now?
And I suppose that having raised the questions I should answer them. Though the mindset of 70s feminism still causes pangs of sheepishness, I can only say that these days I'm the sort of feminist who wears blusher. And the sort of flibbertigibbet and airhead who ... I don't know, reads book with big words and goes to movies with subtitles. Will that do?
As to the second question, one answer will cover both parts. I never felt I needed colouring in before. The bloom of youth might have faded a while back but I had enough pink in my cheeks to pass muster. Just lately though - especially since summer came and went so disappointingly - it's been a very pallid reflection staring back from the mirror. And with Buenos Aires looming, I thought I should Do Something.
A sweet young thing in a pharmacy took pity on me. Two flicks of her little brush and I looked ... well, glowingly healthy. So she sold me a nice pot and brush, and now all I have to do is learn how to apply it myself.

Make-up Tammy Faye Bakker-style.


  1. Forget blusher. You need Elizabeth Arden bronzer. Trust me. (Signed Paleface)

  2. Do I? So I've bought the wrong thing? Won't bronzer make me look ... well, like Tammy Faye?

  3. All in the application.

  4. Like so much in life. But I shall take your advice and give it a try.