Revealing the secrets of makeup is, to some people, tantamount to breaking the Magician’s Code. Nobody must know how many different brushes they’ve got up their sleeves!
Even to women, the need for a trowel in your travel bag can be a complete mystery. I’ve tried to remain of the opinion that good makeup makes you look like you, but better. Not like a completely different person. Or the kind of person who measures their remaining supply of mascara in litres.
International travel must be a bitch. “Sorry, madam, but I’m having a hard time believing that the person in this passport photo is you.” “Oh, hang on, let me just get out a whole packet of wet wipes… can you hold this ingot of bronzer for me? thank you… give me 10 minutes…”
Why bother? How does anyone – how do they have the energy to – go from this…
…to this?
I can give you a pretty good idea, because that’s totally me.
‘Dress up as an oiran’ has been on my Japan bucket list since before I arrived. An oiran is… a courtesan. To put it lightly. Ever heard “you’ve got so much slap on, you look like a…”? Yeah. I’ve gained a greater understanding of why people have that connotation now.
The makeup for this shoot was intense. And it was done on top of the basic foundation I’d worn to make the trip. I had a nap in the chair while a very careful woman expertly stuck two layers of fake eyelashes to my face and contoured like there’s no tomorrow.
A closer, in-person look would’ve revealed three different shades of eyeshadow, eyeliner both above and below my eyes, a hand-drawn fake lip line, and completely new eyebrows. I don’t put in that much effort at weddings.
Most of the luscious, cascading curls you see framing my perfect doll face are not part of my real hair, either. That clip-in bit is surrounded by kanzashi, Japanese traditional hair ornaments. They were shoved into my hair thick and fast, anywhere there was space. I became a sexy Christmas tree. I reckon I had at least 25 different decorations on my head, 23 when I turned and a couple fell off.
The experience didn’t enlighten me as to why people routinely go so far with their faces. So I’m resigned to admitting this is not the kind of makeup I’d wear every day. Not unless I start wearing bell sleeves with a considerable brush-holding capacity.
