Make-up should enhance looks, not mask them - Argus Friday 12th February 2016

Posted Monday 15th February 2016   By Ericka Waller

I found Sarah Vine’s vile column about Princess Kate's appalling make-up pretty funny in light of the fact that in her column photo, Sarah is sporting two slugs above her own forehead. She claims that Kate’s becoming the first woman to hold the appointment as Honorary Air Commandant of the Air Cadets was ‘entirely overshadowed by her right eyebrow being a good deal thicker and darker than its sister.’ She goes on to give Kate some make-up advice; saying ‘a tired, puffy eye always looks a lot worse with too much make-up, especially in shades of muddy purple. Just keep it chic and simple with eye brightening shades of pale pink and a soft, flattering line.’ I love that she has written this sage advice when her own make up gives her a slightly Eddie Izzard vibe. She ends her column by demanding Kate has a make-over. I think she’d be far better advising Kate, and every other woman who owns an eyebrow stencil, to have a ‘make-under’.

I was gobsmacked to see videos on Facebook teaching girls ‘contouring and high-lighting’ so they can look just like Kim Kardashian.

It basically involves painting your face like a lion then rubbing it in. My kids often sport a similar look at the end of the Summer fete having been on the bouncy castle.

Make-up has become a mask, not an enhancement.

On this week's ‘Too ugly to date’, a show I’m afraid I am hooked on, we met a beautiful girl who could not control her body hair.

Before the date, she spent three hours bleaching herself and putting on make-up. While her date did not know what her 'condition' was, he would have been made aware she had one.

I was horrified then, to see him shut her down within the first 30 seconds. Not only did he refuse to look her in the eye, he replied to her comment about ‘wanting to be a rally car driver’ with ‘that’s a man’s job though’.

At the end of the 15 minute meet he said ‘the second I saw all her make-up I was put off’. He knew she would have some insecurity, was he not clever enough to understand too much make-up might be a way of masking it?

‘I am man. I drive car. Women no drive. Women must be naked and small. Ug’

Regardless of whether he wanted to see her again or not, the poor girl was a bag of nerves. A couple of compliments from him could have worked more wonders than years of therapy.

He might have told her how beautiful her hair was, or how she had a great smile. Instead he scowled at her, watching her as she stumbled to find the straw in her coke with shaking hands.

It makes me scared about the future my daughters faces will face.

When I was 15 I had three items of make-up. Avon ‘pressed powder’. Rimmel ‘Heather Shimmer’ lipstick and clear mascara. No matter how many enthusiastic re-applications, the worst I could do was make myself look pale and hopefully interesting.

To show my girls the beauty of 'less is more', we bought some Bratz Dolls off eBay and soaked their make-up off with Nail Varnish Remover. (It took ages.)

We then replaced it with the very basics, before cutting off their ridiculously long hair.

The final step was to remove their short faux-leather hot-pants, bra-tops and high-heels then dress them in some vintage Sindy Doll clothes we found in a charity shop. Even with our poor face-painting techniques the girls looked an awful lot better.

And finally, I was very interested to read how a mother from Hove saved herself more than £11,000 by ditching shampoo, toothpaste and toilet paper, especially having just pulled a full roll out from down the loo where one of my precious princesses had dropped it.

I was already contemplating making them use the cat’s litter tray. They seem to be more interested in it than the conventional method.

We have a water pistol. We use it to shoot the cat when she tries to jump on the bird-cage. I’m pretty sure all my children's' Christmases would come at once if I passed them the ‘Super Soaker’ and told them to go clean their bums with it.

As for not washing our hair, well we don't do it that often anyway.

Having had dreadlocks in my crazy hedonistic youth, I know all about wandering round with itchy, greasy hair that always seems to smell of bacon (even though I timed my hair-do with being a vegetarian).

Tossing out the Timotei could mean we avoid catching the latest nit ambush going round at school, so we’d save on headlice shampoo too. Win win.

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