Now if there’s something guaranteed to make me leap out of bed and into the shower in a desperate frenzy to get ready in the morning it has to be:
a) Tom Hardy brandishing a loofah
b) a holiday or
c) gorgeous new make up
Since Tom’s out of town and I’ve still got two weeks ’til Ibiza, it must be the third option…
Of course, I have tons of make-up. If there was a national make-up drought and women had to make do with existing supplies, I could quite easily get the entire female UK population glammed up and runway-ready every day for the next decade without so much as a liquid liner running dry. My make-up cup doth runneth over.
But that’s besides the point. There’s nothing like the magnetic pull of a mirror-perfect compact twinkling at you in the department store beauty hall, sparkling under the dazzling lights as it beckons you over to play.
Having worked in the beauty industry for more than two decades, you’d think I’d have built up an immunity by now, but no, I’m still a sucker for a slinkily-packaged product; it’s appeal hasn’t tarnished one iota. The novelty simply never wears off.
So, like a magpie, I was powerless to resist the draw of Urban Decay’s Naked Skin Pressed Powder
compact as she shimmied and gleamed seductively from the cosmetics counter recently. I was innocently flapping on past on my lunch break, blinkers on, head down, trying not to get sucked in. Before I knew it I’d stuck my beak round Debenhams’ door and liberally applied the pressed powder from the tester in Medium Light, along with a slick of Razor Sharp Longwear Liquid Liner in Retrograde
, an iridescent purply-black. Unfortunately, I fell instantly in love with both…
With a deep sigh I handed over my debit card (it’s £23 for the compact, £16 liner) and hurried back to work before I could be tempted by the remainder of the sexy selection of Urban Decay products, who were posing and pouting like Thai hookers as they tried to coax me into sampling their wares.
Back at work, I caressed my purchases in their premium, glossy packaging and checked the results again in different lighting. Still perfect. Hours later and my flicks are still on fleek: my ridiculously watery eyes haven’t made a jot of difference to the liner. It’s still absolutely pristine. My face is semi-matte, the powder still doing the tricky task of warding off a shiny face without being cakey.
The next day, my new purchases are put to the test when my sister and I take her toddler son to Knole Park
in 30 degree heat. The park is home to herds of deer, who take a keen interest in our picnic; before we know it we’re surrounded. We take cute deer selfies before the mood turns menacing, and we’re snozzled (a word we created to describe the snorty nuzzling that takes place) then stampeded
by the curious creatures. We are crying with a mixture of laughter and terror as we charge through the long grass to make our escape.
Back in the safety of the car, I check my make-up: despite sweating, laughing, crying and being mounted by deer, I’m surprised to say it’s virtually perfect. Now if that’s not putting the products through their paces, I don’t know what is.Hat’s off to Urban Decay: I had no i-deer (groan) just how good your products were…