If I had a dollar for every time I’ve got a make-over from a cosmetic salesperson and then sped to the nearest ladies’ room and tissued it off, I’d be rich enough to own my own cosmetic company. I did it again this morning. This time I tried one of the mineral makeups, the swirl-and-tap kind you see on the shopping networks. Or is it tap-and-swirl? Every time I see one of those mineral powder commercials, I’m impressed by how women with blotchy skin are transformed in seconds into glowing beauties. Even though I know those women are paid models and that TV film is edited and touched up, I still think that maybe I, too, could acquire porcelain skin via the magic of mineral powder.
So I went to a special cosmetic store in the mall, and a very nice young woman with lovely skin got out fluffy brushes, decided on the right shade for me, and did the tap and swirl thing. Tap turns out to mean what you do to the brush after you’ve dipped it into the powder. You tap it to knock off excess powder, then you vigorously and rapidly swirl it over your skin. Swirling as in fast little circles. The young lady didn’t explain why that was important, but it must be because they do that on TV too. After she had swirled it all over my face with the big fluffy brush, she did smaller swirls around my nose and under my eyes with a small brush. Then she tapped a tiny bit of what looked like powdered copper into a jar lid, and swirled that all over my face. She said that was a bronzer. Since I am pale as oatmeal, I got a teensy bit alarmed about having bronze put on my skin, but she said that would give me a healthy glow. After the bronzer, she tapped and swirled some rusty looking powder on my cheeks, then topped the whole thing off with some pale pink powder she said was a setting powder. The setting powder would keep the stuff underneath from running or sweating, and also keep it from leaving streaks on my clothes.
Having worked her magic, she presented me with a mirror. All the other saleswomen immediately came from wherever they’d been and said how lovely I looked. I actually looked somewhat like a dead body after the mortician has finished trying to make it look life-like. Not only was my every pore and line and wrinkle magnified by a lot of reddish color, but the powder was beginning to sting. I thanked the nice young lady, promised to think about it, and fled. By the time I got home fifteen minutes later, my face was as hot as it looked. After I’d tissued it off, I pulled my black knit top over my head. You guessed it, the makeup left streaks. So much for the setting powder.
I had to wash my face and reapply moisturizer to stop the stinging, so I suppose I’m allergic to something in the makeup. I’m back to my bland, no-color, no-cosmetic face, but I’m glad I gave it a try. At least I learned how to swirl. If I ever put makeup on again, I will swirl it on.