"The most beautiful makeup for a woman is passion, but cosmetics are easier to buy."
—Yves Saint Laurent
Announcements
If you're new to this blog, then read our guides to the basics: Skin (Part I), Skin (Part II), The Supernatural, Color Theory I, Color Theory II, Eyes, and Brushes.
Contents
Favored
Art Tattler
the glamourai
The Non-Blonde
Perfume Shrine
Lisa Eldridge
Garance Doré
Smitten Kitchen
Into The Gloss
Grain de Musc
Cafe Makeup
Res Pulchrae
Temptalia The Selfish Seamstress
Killer Colours
Bois de Jasmin Glossed In Translation
Jak and Jil
Amour Fou
No More Dirty Looks
I Smell Therefore I Am
Le Blog de Betty
The Natural Haven
Messy Wands
1000 Fragrances
Moving Image Source
Delicate Hummingbird
The Emperor's Old Clothes
M. Guerlain
Colin's Beauty Pages
Barney's jewelry department
Parfümrien
Drivel About Frivol
The Straight Dope
Sea of Shoes
Makeup Magpie
Sakecat's Scent Project
Asian Models
Ratzilla Cosme
Smart Skincare
On the Runway
A.V. Club
Tom & Lorenzo: Mad Style
Eiderdown Press
Beauty and the Bullshit
La Garçonne Flame Warriors Everyday Beauty
Fashion Gone Rogue
Now Smell This
Dempeaux
Fashionista
The Cut
A Fevered Dictation
Nathan Branch
NARS
My mother gave me the prayer to Saint Theresa.
I added a used tube ticket, kleenex,
several Polo mints (furry), a tampon, pesetas,
a florin. Not wishing to be presumptuous,
not trusting you either, a pack of 3.
I have a pen. There is space for my guardian
angel, she has to fold her wings. Passport.
A key. Anguish, at what I said/didn't say
when once you needed/didn't need me. Anadin.
A credit card. His face the last time,
my impatience, my useless youth.
That empty sack, my heart. A box of matches.
MAURA DOOLEY
Listen to Maura Dooley reading the poem; view my own poem inspired by it in the comments
Photographer: Lachlan Bailey for Vogue UK
Model: Arizona Muse
Labels: arizona muse, culture notes, lachlan bailey, maura dooley
2/01/2012 [5]
Bronzed goddess, Helena Christensen, in Ole Lynggaard Sweet Drops 2012 catalogue
While I tend to be easily distracted by the newest and shiniest in makeup, and as flighty and compulsive as a spring chick in acquiring updates to my wardrobe, when it comes to jewellery, my habits have always tended thus: find a signature piece that I love, elegant yet understated, flexible enough to hold its own with almost any outfit, and then wear it continuously (in the shower, if possible) until either loss or breakage necessitates the start of my search for a replacement.
My tastes in jewellery are not adventurous. In a purely aesthetic way, I can admire the sparkle of an ear lobe dripping with antique diamonds, the clink of bracelets stacked up the wrist like body armour, the goth-bohemian hardware of Abbey Lee - but they are not for me. All jewellery, in my case, is mostly sentimental, a physical anchor for me as I move through constantly shifting outward personas. Against the play of the ephemeral, my jewellery is something precious I wear next to my skin, like a secret. So it is a rare occasion that I start to daydream about a new addition.
I have been eying the Sweet Drops collection from the Danish jewellery house Ole Lynggaard for almost a year now. Customisable bracelets - the word "charm" is resolutely avoided, and indeed feels too slight to describe pieces with so much individual character - they combine the earthy minimalism of soft, exquisitely smooth calf leather with quietly lustrous drops of gold, silver, precious and semi-precious stones. The conceit is that there are no hard edges, no colours or shapes unfound in nature; the Sweet Drops take on the appearances of dew, pearls of caviar, sea-foam, and acorns. But they don't come cheap: a leather bracelet ($495 AUD) with two Sweet Drops can easily cost upward of $3000 AUD.
There are compromissory alternatives, of course. The Rapture collection from Najo, an Australian brand specialising in sterling silver jewellery, looks heavily modelled on Ole Lynggaard, and is a fraction of the price. But the addition of silver clasps, and their overwhelming "shininess", fail to capture the heart and the imagination the way the Sweet Drops do - the illusion that, like a creeping vine or a naked, fresh rose, they would be eternally graceful, and never out of place on any occasion.
Ole Lynggaard Sweet Drops are available from selected retailers around the world.
Labels: fashion notes, najo, ole lynggaard
1/24/2012 [2]
Exquisite design is often quiet and unobtrusive. It is bad (or severely restricted) design that always sticks out like a sore thumb: stairs that are an inconvenient width or height, roads that disorientate and enrage drivers, shoes too uncomfortable or too delicate to do any actual walking in. When physical objects and negative spaces are combined in a way that mimics the organic, responding to the intuitive way that we do things, we are in a designed environment that not only makes life easier and more pleasant, but which is also potentially directing your actions in a subtle manner by creating new patterns of behaviour.
Take my Travel Toiletry Organiser from Lapoché. Designed, and readily available in Australia, it is true to its name: a toiletries bag that actually helps you to get organised when you are travelling. The exterior is made of soft, durable fabric and reinforced with foam, so the contents are protected when it is in your suitcase. The bottom is flat to stand bottles upright, and to take up a minimum amount of table space; there is also a hook to allow you to hang it up, saving you even more space. The front unzips to display a very spacious central compartment surrounded by 3 zippered mesh pouches and 5 side pockets for bottles.
The beauty of the bag is that it is large enough to hold everything that you could possibly want to take on a trip, but it also suits the minimalists because it is both lightweight and compressible in itself. The large, open front means that everything you bring is easily visible and accessible, which helps you to realise when something is either superfluous or missing.
The way I use my Lapoché is to store my body/skincare and hair products directly in the central compartment, and to keep small, delicate or easily-lost items in two separate bags that are zipped into the Lapoché when I am on the go. All makeup goes into a Bloom makeup bag which rests upright, and my makeup brushes travel in a slim Shu Uemura travel roll. Everything - from tweezers to cotton buds to toothpaste - has its own place, and I can locate anything I want in a second.
When I arrive at a hotel, I take out my brush roll and makeup bag, un-pack only the bulkiest products, hang my Lapoché from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, and I'm done! Packing up to go is just as quick and hassle-free. In more than a dozen trips that I have taken with the Lapoché, I have never left a single thing behind in a hotel room.
Pictured above is all the contents of the main bag:
- Full-sized: Avene Hydrance Optimale Riche, La Roche Posay Effaclar K, Guerlain Abeille Royale Youth Serum, Clinique Superblock, Chanel Vitalumiere Aqua, Pronamel (toothpaste) and toothbrush
- Sample/travel sized: NARS Potent EFA Cream, Shu Uemura Cleansing Oil, Bioderma Sensibio H2O, deodorant, Hada Labo Super Hyaluronic Acid Moisturizing Lotion (in Guerlain lotion bottle), shampoo and conditioner, DAX Indian Hemp (in travel tub), rubbing alcohol for cleaning brushes (in refillable spray bottle), and various perfumes
- Mason Pearson travel brush, tweezers, emery board, hair clip and pins
- Zip-lock bag w/ cotton pads and cotton buds
- Contact lenses
And that's not including everything in the smaller makeup bag:
- Eyeshadow, bronzer, pressed powder, cream blush, concealer, under-eye concealer, lip balm
- Mascara, eyeliner pencils, brow pencil, eyelash curler
- Sharpener, hair elastics, spatula, lip brush, hairpins
- Spare contact lenses
If you have noticed that something extremely vital is missing - do not fear! I keep lipsticks as the last, finishing step of my toilette, in a leather case that holds not one, but three tubes, and that fits in my handbag. I find that three (a natural/MLBB, a photo-friendly berry/clove, and a dramatic red) is usually enough to cover all events and situations on a single trip.
Labels: beauty notes, lapoché
1/18/2012 [10]
If the Christmas-New Year's period has found me somewhat quiet, blogging-wise, it's because I was travelling in Japan for nine days - visiting the Shiseido flagship store in The Ginza, feeding the sacred deer in Nara Park, walking around the Floating Garden Observatory in Osaka, and testing as many hard-to-find Japanese brands (ie. Suqqu, Hakuhodo, ADDICTION by Ayako, THREE Cosmetics, RMK, Elegance, and Paul & Joe) as I could get my hands on.
When it came to eyeshadows, the stand-out brand was ADDICTION. I am not a fan or a wearer of idealised East-Asian eye makeup: the combination of pale shimmer and barely-there colour with a very strongly defined lash line and extremely thick (often false) eyelashes. The ADDICTION eyeshadow range includes almost 60 colours, covering your basic neutrals but also many strong, fashion-forward colours, atypical of a Japanese brand. Most have pearl or metallic finishes, and the pigmentation and texture of these eyeshadows could give Shu Uemura (back when it was at its best) a run for its money. They are buttery-soft, and even when applied dry, have an intensity that appears almost wet.
ADDICTION Eyeshadows in (L-R) Shangri-La, Keshi, Arabian Ruby, and Cigarette. All shadows have been swatched dry. Click to enlarge image.
ADDICTION pressed eyeshadows are available as singles (2000 Yen each) which you can fit into compact cases. There is also a wide range of designed eyeshadow quads (9000 Yen) and sextets (13500 Yen), not to mention eyeshadow/blush combinations. I already had my eye on some specific shades, and decided on buying an empty 4-pan compact case, which I then requested that the sales assistant fill with the eyeshadows in Shangri-La (metallic red), Keshi (pearly silver gunmetal), Arabian Ruby (metallic aubergine-brown), and Cigarette (frosty white glitter). There was also a matte pinky-red shade, Alice, that I nearly got instead of Shangri-La. In the end, however, the softness and richness of the metallic won me over.
Equally fascinated and terrified by pink/red eyeshadow, having bought and discarded NARS Carravaggio duo (Azaela pink and irridescent purple) in the past, I had been searching for a very deep, punchy red since November, when Lisa Eldridge posted her red eyeshadow look video. The trend was undeniable, and I was obstinate that there was a way I could make it work with my warm, yellowy-olive undertones.
My previous attempt to wear red on the eyes used a NARS brick-red cream blush, Constantinople, in lieu of an actual red eyeshadow - and it wasn't bad, as attempts go. The warm matte red is easier for me to wear, but did not have the sparkling alienness that I was going for. This time, I was able to build up the red to the point of creamy opaqueness with Shangri-La. The colour itself is slightly cool, but not to the extent of being unwearable on me, especially when applied heavily with a wet MAC 239 brush; on someone fair and cool-toned, Shangri-La would appear more pink than red. To give depth to the outer corner and the crease, I dipped the same MAC 239 in Arabian Ruby, removing most of the dark purple on the back of my hand, before blending it gently into the red. Finally, I used Cigarette to highlight the centre of the eye socket, and lined the upper lash line with a black pencil, and then Keshi (wet).
At the Thakoon F/W 2011 show, glowing red and orange eyeshadow was paired with desaturated lips. I preferred the opposite: a closely matched red or pinky shade on the lips, which was what Eldridge used in her video. For my version of the look, I layered a shockingly bright, jewel-toned fuchsia (Anna Sui V 360) under a pinky-rose with a more neutral base (Utowa Rose 55). Offset by pale cheeks untouched by blush, the result is weird and unapologetic, but oddly flattering.
Click to enlarge image.
Have you ever worn red eyeshadow in public? I noticed many older women in Japan wearing a very subtle hint of red around their eyes, and assumed it to be a vestige of traditional kabuki makeup. Certainly I hope this experiment of mine has convinced you that the NARS Hanamachi Eyeshadow Palette is not merely a collector's item to be admired and not used. You might be surprised - as I was - how wearable red eyeshadow can be.
Labels: addiction, anna sui, beauty notes, lisa eldridge, nars, utowa
1/07/2012 [18]
The final cut: here is where my makeup lives.
There are two schools of thought when it comes to makeup. The first exalts expression, everything we put on our face as a coded message, while the second is informed by social norms and strives to enhance without violating the integrity of the face. Glamour versus naturalism, if you will. In most cases, 'style' is an amalgam of both. One may borrow from the standards of naturalism when it comes to foundation but opt for glamour's unapologetic stance with red lipstick. You can pick and choose precisely because, although Laura Mercier and Illamasqua may seem worlds apart in their aesthetics, both operate on the same premise, that identity can be projected through the manipulation of one's image.
It has always been my tendency, however, to dissociate image from identity*.
Yes, we are judged by appearances. Nevertheless, image is no more than an incidental factor in our lives, with the exception of celebrities. People pick up only vague impressions: that you're wearing makeup, that there's too much, or, wow that's BLUE eyeshadow. Most of all, I assume people don't care. Whatever I look like, image is ultimately trivial enough that they will see through the façade in time. I cannot credit anyone who refuses to dig deeper. Unless my vanity imagines it, there is no audience. I do love makeup—that gambler's thrill of blowing through money, luxury in small doses, then the ritual of application, just me, a mirror, and some colors, and of course the community of makeup otaku who share my obsession—but above all, I love that makeup never has be anything other than frivolous fun. My philosophy towards makeup is brutally objective, based on pure superficial criteria, a series of individualized tweaks to my coloring, anatomy, preferred techniques, and taste, but it stays on the surface. I do not believe it is a revelation of the self. For my actions I am culpable and my opinions may require explanation, but a lipstick is just lipstick. It is an object, consumable yet aesthetic, its only office is to flatter. Otherwise, the mirror itself becomes subjective, reflecting only what I want (or fear) to see.
This is why I've got such a minimalistic approach to my own stash. For me, makeup never shifts from its fundamental reality as a frivolous pleasure, so I prefer to keep my appetite keen on the products most satisfying. I treat makeup as I would a poem: subjected to analysis, appraised for beauty, rejected for minor flaws, examined for its mechanisms. I do not, however, attach it the power to define my identity in ways not already shaped by my own will.
Here are the constants. They serve equally for my everyday standard—fresh skin punctuated by a slash of bold lipstick—as well as occasional high drama with blue eyeshadow.
When it comes to base, I prefer skin that looks clean rather than flawless. Naturalism depends on judgement, a frank assessment of your face as a canvas. Above all, it's that obscure instinct that kicks in and tells you when to stop, that the illusion has been broken and all you can see are the brushstrokes. I skip foundation outright. To my eye, the affectation of realism is more convincing when it stops short of perfection; even great skin has pores, unevenness, scars, blemishes. So most days, I wear nothing but undereye concealer. More brightening than concealing, the milky peach tone of Make Up For Ever Lift Concealer #3 Neutral Beige ($22) counteracts the sallow discoloration around my eyes but doesn't overload with too much coverage. If I'm feeling fancy, a sheer dusting of Chanel Poudre Universelle Libre in 20 Clair ($52) blurs over minor textural imperfections. It adds a subtle, sophisticated illumination that enhances the luminosity of the skin, especially under flash photography.
Since I've taken pains to preserve the integrity of the skin, my choice in blush (and lipstick) is governed by the same imperative: to brighten the face entire. I tend not to diversify for the sake of fashion. I like blush to hit exactly the right note against my (cool) pink+/yellow undertones—that's always been candy pink. Sometimes I use Becca Wild Orchid ($30), since a cream blush is easy to throw on when you're rushed for time, sometimes I want instead the delicate translucence of Shiseido PK304 Carnation ($30).
With lipstick, though the same requirement (brightening) applies, there is a little more room for experimentation, color for the sake of color. Some, like Hourglass Nocturnal ($30), closely echo my taste in blush. Poised between rose and berry, Nocturnal serves as an intensified version of Becca Wild Orchid, so it always feels right, brings my face to life much like the blush. I'm also an absolute fiend for red lipsticks—it took some ruthless editing indeed to narrow down to two—but they are distillations of oft-visited idioms in my red-lipstick addiction. Guerlain L'Heure Bleue ($35) is the softer, easy-wearing redcurrant, its berry base made festive by a brighter red sparkle. The high saturation and retro-matte finish of Shu Uemura RD 178M (disc) is more classical, the blue-red of a rose in bloom. Every color pulls warmer on my lips, so a cool undertone, a bit of mauve or berry, insinuates itself into most of these shades. Therefore, Guerlain Chamade ($35), a summery coral-pink with a little translucence, is a departure from my usual palette. Since I desaturate all vibrancy from lipsticks, I have a marked preference for high-calorie pigment. The closest I'll ever come to a nude is Estée Lauder Chelsea Rose (disc), a creamy good girl pink. I'm much more comfortable in bold colors, even when it gets as aggressive as Shiseido Fuschia ($25). Most bright pinks are tempered by red, but Fuschia leans on a lavender base shot through with a chalky bit of white. It's unapologetically kitsch, not for the faint of heart.
Optimally flattering on my coloring: Nocturnal and Wild Orchid.
This is essentially an exercise in playing to my strengths and weaknesses. I can calibrate my blush and lipstick (and base, too) to bring out the luminosity of my skin, but it's easy work, just swiping on a lipstick. By contrast, so much finicky detail work goes into my neutral eye, yet it yields only incremental improvement. Frankly, there's not much I can do. Throw on Laura Mercier Stellar ($22), a silvered cream with enough peach to marry it to the skin, but it's not as if I've acquired more lid space (shown with Rave below, not here). My feeble lashes might be bolstered by L'Oréal Carbon Black Voluminous ($8), but even with the wand wiped clean, I could never build up serious drama; the infrastructure simply can't handle the bulk of too much mascara. Better, I think, to rely on tightlining, to build up the illusion of a thicker lashline: Laura Mercier Deep Night ($22), a navy dark enough to register as an off-black, with a hint of eye-brightening blue. Powder is a little unorthodox for tightlining—it only works with a densely pigmented matte and a proper brush—but I like its softness compared to gel liner.
I grow my brows as full as I can, shaping in the merest hint of an arch, plucking mostly the strays that grow in the wrong direction (a common problem for Asians), though sometimes you'll see a wonky hair. Overdrawn brows drive me into conniptions, so I rely on Laura Mercier Brow Definer ($20) to fill them in, substantially more naturalistic than than any pencil or powder.
With statement makeup: go bold or go home. Other than tightlining and the most refined of highlights and a matte contour well blended, eye makeup is not playing the illusory game of naturalism: even a taupe looks like makeup. (Obviously, I abide by the same philosophy with lipstick.) By all means, you should feel comfortable about your choices, but if you embrace the fun of makeup, you might be surprised by the results of experimentation: blue flatters me far better than brown.
I split eye makeup into three categories, a basic set structured on my coloring. When a new purchase shifts the gravitational center of my stash like a passing meteorite, they are stable enough to accommodate my momentary obsession.
Complements either blend seamlessly onto the skin, like grey or taupe or black, or work in concert with the skin, such as pink or peach or plum. For me, because my coloring rejects earth tones, it's limited to a highlight and a liner: I don't need more than Stellar and Deep Night. Because they're complementary, they also coordinate with both contrasts or accents. Contrasts sit opposite your coloring. You can choose whether to contrast against your eyes and your skin, but like complements, it is individually defined. With my pink undertones, I've yet to meet a blue to dislike, but there's enough yellow that the ideal contrast leans slightly green: meet Shiseido SV810 Tin ($25), a shimmering sea blue in a grey base. If I want to tone down the sallowness instead, I reach for purple, a sheer pastel like Chanel Lavande (disc), which wears like an off-grey with a kick, or the controlled intensity of colorful kohl, MAC Rave Pearglide (disc), a jewelled violet. Accents may not flatter your skin, but they add dimension to complements and contrasts, pigment matched to pigment. While I cannot wear brown tones solo, Laura Mercier Brown Copper Kohl ($19), a doppelgänger for the original Teddy, builds a coppery-brown smoky-plum base beneath Lavande, while the crystalline gold and olive-bronze of Shiseido Opera Trio ($33) works in tandem with the powder blue, or Tin. I mix it up, as need dictates.
My eye shape is simplicity itself: too flat for contouring, no double lid to work around, no asymmetries to correct, no distinctive color, neither prohibitively small nor big, and brown tones leave me cold. I build pigment in rounded, diffused shapes to open them up vertically, and that, my friends, describes 98% of my eye looks. My skin is good, which affords me the latitude to play with a color, but when you ignore the rainbowed palette, you'll see that my bone structure limits my technique to three variations, all rounded and diffused.
Faithful readers will know that pigment smudged thickly around the eyes is my most oft repeated technique, as reflexive as a graphic flick on other eye shapes. It's easy to fit onto my basic template, already so minimal—just add one product. Since my taste in lipsticks is bold, I don't try to underplay the fact I'm wearing makeup at all, pigments that can hold their own and match in vibrancy: Shiseido Tin and Rave (shown above, with Shu Uemura RD178M blotted down to a stain) are my absolute favorites. After all, eyeliner is limited in its impact, no matter how colorful. When I do reach for neutrals, it's specifically to play up the classicism of a red lip, say the navy matte of Deep Night smoked out.
Another option is colorblocking, a sheer wash of color, usually a pastel. Other than Lavande, which is not vibrant enough on me to qualify as aggressive color, I wear this technique less frequently, mostly when I want to showcase a pigment that has captured my admiration. For this look, I've used the powder blue of Shiseido Opera, with the gold serving as an accent on the lower lashline. Chamade as the lip, to complete the rich-bitch-on-the-Riviera effect.
Here is my variation on the smoky eye, the most complex of the techniques thus far. Other than blending, the trick to a good smoky eye is to adapt it to your eye shape (thus the lack of tutorials on this blog), and mine is a particularly challenging one to execute well. The classic smoky eye is built on winged shapes; this is not ideally flattering on me, as it narrows my eyes. My smoky eye is designed to round out the shape, a vertical rather than horizontal effect.
The darkest shade, here the olive bronze from Opera, is smoked around the lashline, not too dissimilar from the first look but taken a little further up the lid and blended well. I might use Teddy, Rave, Deep Night, or even Tin, depending on my mood. It thickens slightly at the outer corner, but not by much. I often add a brighter color at the inner corner, here the faintest hint of the lime from Rated R (see below), to create some horizontal dimension to my flat lid space, but carefully, so the overall shape is still rounded. Then, I add a highlight: not a neutral but a pastel, sitting right on top of the smoke rather than on the brow bone. Switching to a pastel has two purposes. First, to brighten the murky darker shade, so it doesn't close the eye, and second, it adds to the rounded effect by pulling one's attention upwards, greater emphasis than a neutral shimmer would provide. Without a crease, it's not weird to place a pale shade there. I would pair this with Fuschia, but its white base captures inaccurately under flash photography, so I've made the substitution of a different bright pink (Estée Lauder Orchid Dream). No matter, the idea remains the same: I like how fuschia coordinates with the hint of lime on the inner corner.
Finally, a handful of products I rarely use, but earn their place because their effects cannot be replicated otherwise. Occasionally, I add a light dusting of Dior Aurora (disc); the sunkissed warmth it adds to the skin plays up the icy pallor of pastels beautifully. Most looks don't demand glitter, but Shiseido WT901 Mist ($25), a complex of pink, silver, and gold fairydust, is as sophisticated as it gets. When layered, it transforms other shades into sparkles—if that's something I want. In spite of its popularity, I don't often use gel liner. In such a graphic form, neutrals tend to beautify bone structure, more work for me than experimenting with color, but it does add strength to the lashline. I'm more likely to employ Bobbi Brown Caviar Ink ($21) for tightlining, when I want a break from Deep Night. Though my pot is already two years old, the texture remains creamy as ever.
Purely for sentimental value, my very first investment: NARS Rated R ($33). It's largely a keepsake. Nothing in life will require me to wear acid lime or electric blue, but Rated R's complete embrace of makeup as an artifice reminds me not to take myself too seriously.
It goes without saying, but minimalism does not suit everyone. If, however, you are attracted to the idea of a tightly edited stash but worry it might limit your options, I have never found it to be so. A collection of a twenty taupes and fifty peachy-rosy nudes is more restricted in its imagination, an endless succession of tastefully neutral makeup. One naturalistic look is enough for me. I know you, reader: "But this one has an ashy undertone, while this has a subtle pink sparkle scattered throughout, and this is Rouge Bunny Rouge, a unicorn among unicorns, copy written by unicorns!" Bullshit. This is what the Buddha calls attachment, nothing more. If I get bored, I'll turn to makeup as a form of entertainment, but how will yet another taupe serve as any kind of palliative? Once you've got your neutrals covered (define a comfortable amount for yourself), let the rest go. Truth be told, you won't miss them.
And, as any poet can tell you, restrictions are the galvanizing force behind creativity. Fewer products place a greater obligation on how you manipulate them. With the exception of one random (Orchid Dream), all four looks were built exclusively from the products featured here; I've discovered new possibilities simply by putting them together. Makeup is fundamentally a consumer good, so why not make the most out of its use value? Besides, I'm perfectly free to flirt with new colors. It somehow liberates you to enjoy your diversions, those not quite at the same level of permanence, free of regrets.
Thank you again, for your patience and kind comments throughout the years. It seems somehow fitting to end on this note, with the favorites in my stash.
* N.B. Li Wen, Dorothy, and Anne do not share my opinions. This is what I believe.
Labels: becca, chanel, desert island, estee lauder, guerlain, hourglass, korres, make up for ever, shiseido, shu uemura
12/24/2011 [16]
While I'm finetuning my next post, I thought this monstrosity might amuse you guys, a pair of silk harem pants from Thomas Wylde.
Everything that could go wrong goes wrong here. The trainwreck begins with a dropped crotch, the worst idea in tailoring ever conceived, then continues with a ruffle on the cropped hem. In the front, it's pleated. The material is delicate silk, a savvy choice for torturing your servants with extra work, and the print looks like she squashed an endangered species with her butt. The brand trademark, the skull, has also been scattered onto the snow leopard background, which is SUCH AN AWESOME IDEA. Finally, the price: $625.
A tragic masterpiece. I want to stop looking, but I can't...
Labels: fashion notes, thomas wylde
12/18/2011 [3]
Sydney, August 2006
From one of my very first sessions with Melissa, shot on film and hand-developed. Mid-morning, sleep-deprived, I was wearing typical weekend gear: soft jeans, a t-shirt from AMUNC 2006, a light jacket to ward off the outdoor winter chill. Melissa's assignment from her teachers called for honesty, a set of portraits that could reveal the character of the subject, and so I presented my barest, truest and most curmudgeonly face to the world.
Between shots, I was sipping my first coffee of the day from a steaming Deadwood crew mug that I'd won off an internet competition, and I imagined myself trading insults with Charlie Utter, sharing tots of whiskey with Calamity Jane, before we all rode off on new (and smelly) adventures in the Black Hills. Yet even that is partly play-acting; the black scarf-beanie, which seems to suck in all the light from the picture, was not merely covering my unwashed and messy hair, but seemed to hint at a shyness, a willingness to disappear that cut against my direct gaze and tough-gal exterior.
* * *
Sydney, August 2009
The year before Wolf, my family's German Shepherd, passed away, he was going deaf, half-blind, and contending daily with pain in his hips, yet still the sweetest and most intelligent of creatures. There are few human beings toward whom I hold the depth of unreserved affection that I give my dogs, and fewer still that I am comfortable with demonstrating that affection with. The love of dogs is uncomplicated, undemanding, incapable of dishonesty; the love of adults anything but.
Hunter Valley, December 2010
Right after Christmas, six months after I had finished my MPolEc and started working full-time, Melissa, a friend visiting from Germany, and I went on a day-trip to the local wine region, about 2.5 hours drive away from Sydney. We lunched outdoors, sitting on benches and lying on giant beanbags strewn across the lawn. The aggressive asexuality of my early twenties had mellowed somewhat. I was relaxed, slightly buzzed from wine tastings, enjoying my first real holiday in over a year.
I wore a minimalist echo of the outfit from 2006: black skinny jeans (UNIQLO), a grey linen t-shirt with a slouchy fit (Country Road), black Converse, and sunglasses (Jac + Jack). The difference now being that I was wearing the clothes, the clothes weren't wearing me.
All photographs were taken by Melissa Graf.
Labels: culture notes
12/11/2011 [6]
One of the foundational tenets of beauty and makeup: Just because you're born a certain way, it doesn't mean that you have to put up with it.
Have thick, slippery hair that doesn't stay put? Getting it cropped to your chin, I discovered when I was seventeen, simplifies things enormously. I barely need to run fingers, much less a brush, through my hair in the morning before stepping out the door.
And after years of telling myself that there was nothing to be done about my naturally oily hair and scalp, I recently had a mental turn-around. Constant travel and a hectic schedule was making it difficult for me to wash my hair with the frequency and regularity it needed if itching and build-up were not to set in - which was to say every other day. Skip a wash, and on the third day I would be a fidgeting ball of acutest misery; my hair lank and flat, too greasy to hold any volume. At about the same time, my skin had begun to clear up after months of hormonal breakouts, and I was conscious of the fact that transfer of dirt and oil from my hair to my face - via hands, fringes, and pillows - could very well reverse this improvement.
I decided to try an oil treatment - reasoning that, just as a rejuvenating face oil helped to get my excess sebum-producing combination skin under control, the same might hold true for my scalp. René Furterer Complexe 5 (400 RMB) was the only product that seemed to fit the bill in Sephora (Shanghai). A concentrated toning and deep-cleansing treatment containing 53% pure essential oils of orange and lavender, it stimulates microcirculation in the scalp to enhance growth and regeneration, and increases the effectiveness of other treatment products you use after it. You can literally feel it working, as your scalp starts to experience a warm and tingling sensation seconds after applying.
Step 1: Use the narrow nozzle to direct Complexe 5 to the roots of dry, unwashed hair, applying it to the scalp in sections and massaging it in as you go. I usually start from the right side of my head, drawing lines from front to back until I reach my other ear. You don't need much - a 50mL bottle will last me about 8-10 months.
Step 2: Continue massaging gently for a minute or so, and then leave for 5-10 minutes. Usually, I put on a face mask at the same and then leave both on for longer than the prescribed 10 minutes as I wander around preparing vegetables for dinner, hanging up laundry, washing my makeup brushes, etc.
Step 3: Shampoo and condition as normal, or follow with another treatment if desired. Complexe 5 does not feel thick or sticky, and should be easy to wash out without residue; the limonene presumably makes this possible, acting as a solvent for the essential oils.
I have been using Complexe 5 once or twice a week, for two months now, in concert with Kérastase Bain Chroma Riche and a sulfate-free conditioner. After the first fortnight, my hair had already passed the 4 days test: a hitherto unheard of 96 hours between washes before the itching started to drive me insane.
Two weeks ago, when I had my hair and scalp under a 300x microscopic camera at the Kérastase Institute in Sydney, Revo Hair Atelier - something I would have had neither the confidence nor the desire to do before I started using Complexe 5* - the professional diagnosis confirmed what I already knew: that my hair was very healthy, and that my scalp, though still a tiny bit oily, by no means constituted a problem. Instead of setting me on the regime for oily hair, the technicians at Revo washed, treated and conditioned my hair with products designed for the maintenance of colour-treated hair. If that's not evidence of effectiveness, I don't know what is.
INGREDIENTS: Limonene, Citrus Aurantium Dulcis Oil (Orange/Citrus Dulcis), Fragrance (Parfum), Ricinus Communis Seed Oil (Castor/Ricinus Communis), Hexylene Glycol, Glyceryl Linoleate, Lavandula Hybrida Oil (Lavandula Hybrida), Citral, Origanum Majorana Leef Oil (Origanum Majorana ). Thymus Vulgaris Oil (Thyme, Thymus Vulgaris), Linalool, PEG-40 Hydrogenated Castor Oil, Geraniol, Glyceryl Linolenate, Origanum Vulgare Leaf Extract (Origanum Vulgare).
* Going to a luxe salon or spa is a bit like having a cleaning lady come to your house. You put in extra work so as not to be seen as an embarrassing mess when you/they appear.
Labels: beauty notes, kerastase, rene furterer
12/07/2011 [2]
Sometimes, risky beauty ventures do pay off. Recently I took the plunge and not only got my hair chemically straightened, but also cut it short into a bob, a length it's not been at since I was nine. As it turns out, I find the results very flattering, not to mention easy to take care of, and in fact may never be looking back to long hair again. Soon enough however, I found that the sleekness that had so pleased me straight from the salon could not be maintained without the help of products. And so, I took another step into uncharted territories and invested in a smoothing serum from PHYTO, a brand I had been curious about because Daëin used to rave about their Phytonectar shampoo, and because it was new at Olive Young.
This serum shows good results, which it manages with a relatively short ingredients list. A heavy dose of cyclomethicone—one of the most commonly used silicones—turns the texture positively silky, rather like a dry oil. The formula is potent, but deceptively light, and it's easy to overestimate the amount you need and pile it up, which will leave hair looking greasy and weighed-down. One full pump before a dry suffices to turn my short, slightly frizzy hair glassy-smooth, and more than two was never required even when my hair was quite long, down past my shoulders. It also does a decent job cutting static and taming flyaways for my coarse, wiry hair, which makes me wonder if this product would perform equally well on finer hair.
A for presentation, there are no complaints there. The scent is an odd blend of the artificial—the syrupy burning-plastic smell of hair spray and perming solution—and organic—lily-of-the-valley, wet with spring rain. The packaging is wholesomely refined, as with most French drugstore brands: a petite frosted pump bottle that will do your bathroom shelf credit.
The only thing I fear is that the price will go up signficantly, or that the brand will be phased out of Korea, but then there's always the internet. All in all, a good product: I personally find it essential, and don't see myself ever switching to another brand.
Ingredients: Cyclomethicone. Cyclopentasiloxane. Dimethiconol. Alcohol Denat. (Alcool De Betterave). Panthenol (Provitamine B 5). Fragrance / Parfum. Althaea Officinalis Root Extract. Phytantriol. Botanical Origin
Labels: beauty notes, phyto
12/05/2011 [4]
No, I don't want to tame you,
you'd lose your animal charm.
Your wiliness and nervousness
excite me,
they belong to your exotic breed.
You can't escape me
because the door is always open.
You can't betray me
because I don't demand fidelity.
Give me your hand,
we'll dance
through the laughing darkness.
With sacred bells
on our arms and legs,
the movement of the dance
as supple as ancient Arabic writing,
our hair singing
like a Greek chorus.
Elemental bliss
organised into a mystery play.
Only just domesticated,
like you.
ANNA SWIR
Translated from the Polish by Grazyna Baran and Margaret Marshment
Labels: anna swir, culture notes
12/03/2011 [8]
When most people look at makeup, all they see is "good" and "bad".
But chances are, dear reader, you are not one of those people. You may have stumbled onto this blog through the vagaries of fate, but if you've stuck around, it is because you see more than just a lipstick. You have opinions. And they all matter, these fine, exquisite nuances you are so sensitized to: pigmentation and finish, undertone and overshimmer, longevity versus slip, the subtly judged scent, all the way down to the satisfying click as the lid snaps shut, the weight of the tube signifying luxury in your hand. Thousands happily swipe on Dolce Vita, nary the wiser to anything more significant than a popular lipstick. While the beauty community resounds with a collective wail at the discontinuation of Dragon RAL, driving a mass hoarding frenzy, spawning FOTD challenges on MUA, inspiring rhapsodic odes on blogs, or, if you're a rancid snob like me, festering with petty insults flung ever so turd-like at the bourgeois aspiration that CHANEL, as a brand, so manifestly represents, it is a sobering realization that the world of commoners has registered no seismic disturbance whatsoever. To them, Dragon never even existed.
The Japanese have a wonderful term for this, one poorly captured by our English language, otaku, which William Gibson once defined as "the passionate obsessive, the information age's embodiment of the connoisseur", but in Japanese conveys a sense of reeking geekiness that borders on insult, usually ascribed to compulsive anime fanaticism.
As for myself, I've seen very little anime. I've mostly approached them as one would approach a foreign film, as if it were art: Miyazaki Hayao, Watanabe Shinichiro, and Otomo Katsuhiro limn the extent of my experience. So it was somewhat an accident that I stumbled on Genshiken, an oddly ekphrastic work by Kio Shimoko, an anime about anime, or more specifically otaku culture. Since Genshiken belongs to the "slice of life" genre, no one has blue hair or claims expertise with katana. The characters are drawn more or less accurate to real people—you can smell how geeky these guys are even in animated form—and they face mundane challenges, like finding a job after graduating from college. Certainly, Genshiken exploits the more outré and offputting aspects of otaku culture for broad comedy, such as Madarame's declaration he has no "regular porn" but only hentai. Since I'm not Japanese, I could hardly know how easily the stereotype of closet perverts who traffic in extreme anime porn could be misapplied. As Kasukabe (the girl), who represents the majority of the Japanese population, makes absolutely clear: it's considered equally weird in Japan.
Genshiken invites understanding. Down the line, Madarame, the most hardcore otaku of them all, ends up falling for Kasukabe, who is already dating one of his friends. Genshiken doesn't exploit the tension as dramatic device. It happens as it would happen in real life. He grapples with what limited emotional tools he has—revisioning himself and Kasukabe in an ero-game—before running away to the bathroom to face the facts. He knows it'll never happen. He would never try to make it happen. After the slapstick that has preceded it, the recognition of his emotions is quiet but intensely poignant. There is a huge difference, Genshiken points out, between pornography, which depends on fantasy, and the realities of human relationships. And you can only judge people on their behavior, not their interests.
Now, Genshiken did not inspire me to become an otaku. My interest in anime remains as circumscribed as ever. Nevertheless, its underlying theme, how people with shared interests can form a meaningful community, and use that community to act out defining moments of their lives, did ring true. Because, if I may appropriate otaku from its original context, it so perfectly describes the beauty community. In all our varied appetites and specialized jargon, typical of rarefied consumers, ultimately it's not the makeup that matters, but that we share a collective obsession. Some people specialize in vintage makeup, others in swatches and product porn, still more in tutorials, others in reviews, some in information. As Genshiken puts it, "Otaku isn't something you try to become. You just are one before you know it." There's a hierarchy—and I do not know what better confirms a social structure than a pecking order. You can join the currents of the hive mind, if solidarity is your desire, or go against them, just to hone your Ego—or both as the whim possesses you. For the "commoners" who judge our community, we've got haters and trolls, not to mention plenty of incestuous cattiness, both overt and hidden. I suppose we can be ridiculous, at times. But we find, too, surprising warmth and rewarding friendships.
We may be aligned, in a superficial interest, but we are not limited by it. The object of this obsession is quite beside the point; I don't usually wear makeup, and when I do, it's the boring naturalistic stuff, so the basis is hardly a concrete one. Makeup is simply a means. This has always been for me, a way to connect to you.
And if you do not believe we are otaku, I wonder how many of you instantly guessed my lipstick even without prompting? And if I continue further, and explain how I sought to balance the glamourous precision of Dragon with a messy, deconstructed black pearl eye, Shiseido Caviar, dabbed on haphazardly as a base, with Benefit Mermaid layered also haphazardly to pick up the subtle green thread in Caviar—why, you would all understand me.
To everyone who read me over so many years: thank you, thank you very much.
Labels: benefit, chanel, culture notes, genshiken, nars, shiseido
11/30/2011 [16]
Every female you see at a piano is either Lynsey De Paul, or Carole King. And most male music—not all of it but the good stuff—really lays it on you. It really puts you against the wall and that's what I like to do. I'd like my music to intrude. Not many females succeed with that.
~ Kate Bush, interview with Melody Maker magazine (1977)
Kate Bush's songs are considered masterpieces of her time, in the same way that the "crazy" aunt who was beautiful, bright, and promising in her youth is still treated with residual reverence by members of the family old enough to remember her early years as their hope and pride. Even before "music," Kate Bush's name is now synonymous with the word "kook," especially to a younger generation that grew up knowing her as "that retired redheaded singer-lady who over-emoted and made a lot of weird music videos."
However, more than her aforementioned eccentricity and reclusive nature I would venture that the greatest part of what puts many modern audiences off has to do with the way her music sounds on a superficial level: the synth sounds and drum loops she used, as well as the enthusiasm* with which she approaches the music, are a product of her time and immediately date her work even at a cursory listen. Yet, those who are able to momentarily free themselves of unfavorable associations with 80's hair metal will find that not only the intricate and unconventional instrumentation into which she wove these unfortunate sounds, but the rich imagination, expression, and emotional range of her music transcend it all with ease.
At a lyrical level, many of the subjects Kate Bush tackles in, not just Hounds of Love but most of her work, are almost wholly unique in mainstream music: not the least of these is a sequence that takes up the whole second half of this album** portraying a woman lost at sea struggling to hold onto her sanity and her will to live. Of the other songs, "Mother Stands for Comfort" at first seems like nothing more than a conventional hymn to maternal love, until Bush sings:
"Mother~ / Hides the madman"...and one realizes that her warm-milk crooning conceals a much darker figure, one who will willingly be complicit in murder in order to protect her "children." Even the titular song "Hounds of Love," her most famous take on the normally trite and sugared subject of falling in love, incorporates a healthy dose of uncanny valley imagery, for Bush's version not only successfully conveys the horror of being consumed by one's own emotions while being terrified of them the whole while, but words the surrender in terms of rape—rape that the victim later excuses by saying "I don't know what's good for me." Her voice is not a thing of beauty, but rather, an expressive instrument, howling and keening and purring by turns. In fact, if Kate Bush had an artistic spiritual predecessor, it would be Wordsworth, as in her work there is a definite primitive Romantic tendency to elevate both the prosaic and the grotesque over the celebrated and the attractive.
And yet her touch is so deft and sure that she is able to isolate emotions so commonplace that we do not even have names for them, often leading to oddball moments of tenderness scattered throughout her work: the intense intimacy of the lines "Do you want to feel how it feels? / Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?" cut short by the forlorn observation that "You don't want to hurt me" in the bittersweet "Running Up that Hill"; Bush's alter-ego wishing for insipid chatter on the radio to distract her from her own despair in the plaintive "And Dream of Sheep"; a game of "peek-a-boo" between a disembodied self and a distant Earth becoming the starting point for ever more expansive and ever more desolate vistas in that soaring requiem for human smallness, "Hello Earth." It is moments such as these that hone a deft, poignant edge on the weight of the tragedy suffusing this work, giving Hounds of Love the power it has to sear itself indelibly into the psyche.
* Curmudgeonly of me, but I cannot help but be saddened at how popular culture now encourages people to turn themselves into bundles of tastes and preferences sucked dry of enthusiasm, and has replaced the sincere joy taken in sharing life's pleasures and pains with constant judgment masquerading as discernment and furtive, narcissistic comparison of everything to the self: is that cool enough for me not to be damaged by association? does my portfolio measure up? do I measure up? Now, I realize people have always been happy to indulge in crowd mentality; my gripe is that the current trends push people to isolate themselves from one another and from their own desires rather than bringing them into one teeming happy amoebic mass like proper crowd mentality should.
** Starting with "And Dream of Sheep" and ending with "The Morning Fog," these songs collectively going by the informal title of The Ninth Wave
This is how I imagine a sensitive but quite prim young girl with a taste for melancholy and a flair for the dramatic might dress for a rustic jaunt—out cloud-watching, say—one November morning.
To make an impression, one may be tempted to load up on bells and whistles, but the drape and the sleek lines of this black twill cape, coupled with the visual punch of contrasting leather piping, are quite eloquent enough in their own right, especially with this elegantly sculptural pair of ankle boots, their shape as limber as a stretching cat.
The rich color and buttery texture of plum suede bring sorely needed vibrancy to sombre black twill and staid brown leather, while featherlight cashmere gloves—its gradations mimicking the faint blush and muted shadows of a dawn seen through heavy fog—and a gossamer cicada wing spun in precious metals add a touch of tender whimsy.
With Caviar, Dick Page managed to create a black cream shadow that would go on intense and velvety, yet with a sheer and weightless quality that somehow avoids devolving into watered-down ink. If black alone is too much to stomach, Caviar also works well with lighter shades, playing experience to the innocence of the ethereal pixie sparkle that is Mist or deepening the singular muted smoky burnished green of Patina, though that should not be necessary: even on its own Caviar does a perfectly fine job at making eyes smoulder without looking harsh or trampy. A boon indeed for this young girl, who is very much a well-mannered, soft-spoken lady at heart despite her dramatic stylings.
Labels: kate bush, martin margiela, missoni, miu miu, most wanted, philippa holland, shiseido
11/27/2011 [6]
Had I been presented with the brief for Frédéric Malle Lys Méditerranée—a summery vision of lilies by the sea—the first thing coming to my mind would have been idyllic visions of semi-tropical locales in full bloom, and indeed, no perfume calls summer to mind like Lys Méditerranée. It begins with lily in full force, an uber-lily, a blown-up vision of unfurling white petals and the kaleidoscopic whirl of its polleny center... only awash in the sea, whose hypnotic lapping slowly comes to the fore as the flowers recede into the background. One could easily imagine brackish water roiling in the deep shadow of a high sea cliff.
This is where Lys Méditerranée sidesteps that postcard-perfect image of beatific blue shoals and white shell beaches, and it does this by bringing into the picture a note of brine—not entirely clear and so salty that it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth—and a gamy whiff of bilgewater, with traces of salt and scraps of seaweed sticking to one's hair and skin. One has sought shelter from the sea wind—clammy even at the height of a summer afternoon—in a run-down shack, and there, in close quarters and a swimsuit still damp from the dip, one's own body odors bloom and mingle with the blubbery-sweet smell of sunblock lotion... a fatty note which then brings one back to lily, with its fleshy petals and swollen pistil.
(At this point one may recall that the smell of sunscreen lotion, a signature of summer, is itself modeled on that of white flowers: perhaps the smell best capable of masking the greasy stench of the ointment while not seeming too glaringly out of place.)
A seaside holiday in a bottle, if there ever was one, but if most tropical fragrances and white flower scents are pristine adverts in glossy travel agency leaflets—designed to stir the thirst for fantastic and exotic escapes— Lys Méditerranée is a sensory panorama of an actual day at the beach, including unglamorous details like sunburn and sand chafing in certain sensitive places: because even during summer, when the sun shines, flowers are in bloom, and the water beckons, no one ever fully manages to get away from the business of dealing with their lives and the attendant annoyances. And yet, aren't your private memories—not the carefully edited photo albums you later share with your friends—all the more precious for those "imperfections"?
Lys Méditerranée is unquestionably a masterpiece, and yet I sometimes feel that aquatic undertone, as textured as it is, is too unsettling for quotidian wear. Luckily, there is an alternative in Hermès Vanille Galante—a sister if not a twin to Lys Méditerranée where the soapy lily, dandelion-puff vanilla, and the aquatic contribution of melon come together in much the same patterns, but Vanille Galante feels much more gentle, even domestic: the Totoro to Lys Méditerranée's Mononoke Hime.
Labels: frederic malle, hermes
11/25/2011 [0]
Another reason why I rarely do product reviews, other than my latterly deficient photography skills, is because I like to savor my hauls slowly. Draw out the enjoyment for too long—and I like to play with my makeup—and they inevitably become outdated before it's ripe for publication. So before the fizz goes off the wine, here is Guerlain Les Verts ($59) in action. With a palette, one hopes to mine it for versatility, so I've constructed looks strongly differentiated from each other, from neutral to colorful, as my technique allows. Makeup is what you make of it, no pun intended. Another organizing principle was to make the most of my minimalist stash, so I've used these core products throughout: Make Up For Ever Lift Concealer in #3 Neutral Beige, Chanel Poudre Universelle in 20 Clair, Laura Mercier Brow Definer in Warm, Shiseido PK304 Carnation, Bobbi Brown Caviar Ink to tightline.
First, based off my own observations from living in Korea and after some time spent with Jung Saem Mool, the Asian iteration of Lisa Eldridge, I attempted what I'd define as conventionally East Asian makeup, with a few minor tweaks. I tried to be as authentic as possible without crossing into parody.
Half of the look hinges on an absolutely flawless, bright skin. I used Laura Mercier's Warm Ivory foundation, a concession to coverage rather more flattering than a blanket of BB cream. Plus, I'd picked at the blackheads on my nose, and Warm Ivory, somewhat yellower than my skin tone, helps tone down the ruddiness.
The other half, of course, is the eyes. Though the palette is assiduously neutral, a lot of detail work goes into making the eyes seem bigger. Laura Mercier Stellar highlights the inner corner, while the mushroom shade in Les Verts gives depth to the outer corner. To achieve the proper intensity, I layered the eyeliner: smudging Bobbi Brown Caviar Ink first between lashes, thickening at the outer corners, which was further softened by the expresso shade in Les Verts. It would have been more authentic to go for a sharp black flick, but this softer line, which disappears when my eyes are open, is far more flattering on me. Then a dose of individual lashes, applied between my natural lashes from below, like tightlining. I'm not good at them, so they're not aligned too well.
My girl friends in Seoul always pulled out sparkly pink glosses after lunch, a problematic proposition, since I desaturate the vibrancy from pigment. I opted for fairly opaque candy pinks: Estée Lauder Chelsea Rose topped by Chanel's Magnifique Glossimer.
Now, let's try a variation on smoky eyes using the khaki shade in Les Verts.
It's quite drab and murky on its own. Layer it over Shiseido WT901 Mist, a complex of silver, white gold, and pink glitters in a nearly clear, pale pink base, and it instantly takes on an exciting texture. Since it's a cream, it's perfect for layering, and unlike most glitters, there's no fallout. It's the most sophisticated glitter I've ever played with, like fairy dust for grown ups, and the powder on top incorporates the sparkle into the smoky base, for an effect more subdued and wearable than the Illusions d'Ombre. Unfortunately, I was unable to capture the exquisite dimensionality that this method yields; thanks to my uncooperative camera, it doesn't look much like a smoky eye here, other than the rim of black kohl.
I really cannot wear a nude lip, so a tinted lip balm will have to do.
At last, some color! In truth, Les Verts is not full-throttle green, but a neutral palette with a pop of green.
Pastels are home territory for me. I worked in a very light dusting of the Dior Aurora bronzer, paired with the coral-pink of Guerlain Chamade, since the warmth plays nicely against the icy tones of the eyeshadows. Since pastels can look washed out, I first (after tightlining) applied the khaki shade featured prominently above, in a lightly blended cat-eye shape, to add dimension to the outer corner. Layered on top, a wash of the fresh spring green all over the lid, but packed onto the inner corner so the shimmer catches light and provides a natural highlight. The edges were blended together. I took some of the spring green along the lower lashline. Right at the outer edge of that cloud of spring green, just to perk up the green, the powder blue of Shiseido Opera Trio, very sheerly applied. Blended again.
Here's a bonus: L'Heure Bleue on an otherwise minimal face, how I wear my makeup most days:
I find that the Rouge Automatique formula has a translucence to it, much like a jelly polish, so it does a disappearing act when photographed. If anyone's adept with cameras, any tips for capturing it in its full glory? Direct sunshine, unfortunately, is in short supply at this time of year.
Labels: beauty notes, bobbi brown, chanel, estee lauder, guerlain, laura mercier, make up for ever, shiseido
11/18/2011 [17]
Labels: beauty notes
11/15/2011 [12]
Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]. Or
follow on bloglovin'. If
you'd like to contact Dain,
feel free to email me.
The Mnemonic Sense
Most Wanted
The Beauty Primer
Lookbook
Bestsellers
Designer Index
Consumer Diaries
Closet Confidential
On The Label
Beauty Notebook
The Hit List
Color Me In
The Makeup Artist
The Library
Glossies
Wedding Bells
Globe Trotter
Desert Island
perfume notes
beauty notes
fashion notes
culture notes
minimalism
philosophy
chypre arc
floral arc
fresh arc
masculines arc
Archives
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
September 2011
October 2011
November 2011
December 2011
January 2012
February 2012
Images
Photobucket