Ha! Thought that’d get your attention.

Whaddya mean, I don’t have a perfect body?! Well, maybe not quiiite yet. But I live in hope. We all do, amiright? And one way I’m going to get that ‘bikini body’ (just saying the words makes me shudder) is by drinking my breakfast, like a good girl. Yes you heard me correctly, I’m going to drink breakfast. No, no, no. Before you pack me off to rehab, I’m not talking gin and tonic in my water bottle to start the day with a smile…although that would certainly spice up my morning commute. No, I’m talking Nutribuddy: an organic blend of oats, flaxseeds, chia seeds, coconut and the flavouring of your choice. It’s gluten-free, dairy-free, lactose-free and vegan – and unlike other shakes I could mention…it’s not taste-free. It’s actually bursting with flavour. High five to that! Did I also mention that it contains no chemical nasties? None whatsoever. Well I never. Aren’t I the virtuous one all of a sudden? Just stick a halo on me and call me an angel. Or something.

Now we all know that us girls can be a little pushed for time in the mornings, eh? I mean, who has time for brekkie when there’s the important matter of transforming from The Beast into a Disney beauty in the space of half an hour or so (or is that just me)? Now, unless you can trade my makeup brushes for a magic wand, I’m gonna need allll the time and tricks of the trade in the bathroom rather than the kitchen. One peek in my house will confirm this – bathroom shelves: groaning, kitchen shelves: empty. Sure, I could skip the makeup and have breakfast…but I’d rather start the day the right way: with lipstick and mascara. Because nothing tastes as good as glamorous feels.

BUT a hungry girl is an angry girl…and so is an ugly one. So I’m going to take one minute each morning to mix three scoops of my Nutribuddy breakfast, mix with 300-400ml of milk, shake it to make it, and voila: breakfast in a flash.

You can use any kind of milk: skimmed…soya…almond is my new fave. Although I still have no idea how they milk an almond?* To be fair, I thought almonds only came in croissants until a week ago.

With Nutribuddy Breakfast I can leave the house feeling and looking my best, with no grumbling tummy that could (will!) leave me reaching for a calorific almond croissant and hot chocolate as I pass by the coffee shop (we’ve all been there – some of us more than others, granted). They know me by name at my local Starbucks, which is never a good thing when it comes to your bottom…or your bottom line (those snacks add up in both calories and money, girlfriend!)

You’ve heard the saying: “Fake it till you make it,” right? Put on your smile, hold your head high and pretend to be confident until one day you just are?

Well my new mantra is: “Shake it till you make it.” I’ll just shake the Nutribuddy in the shaker until I’ve made it (one minute)…then shake my booty until I get the confidence and the (until now) elusive bikini body (okay, this may take sliiiightly longer than a minute, but a girl’s gotta start somewhere, right?).

So I’ll be swerving the sugary morning snacks and shaking it till I make it. Will you?

Watch my Nutribuddy Breakfast vlog below to find out more… (And if you think this attempt is amateur you should see the 27 previous takes. There’s a lot of stuttering, swearing and giggles).

I have not been paid for this article, I was simply gifted the product in exchange for an honest review. I only write about products that I love and feel that my readers would be interested in too. If I don’t totally love a product rather than write a negative review I just won’t review it at all. Should you choose to follow these pink links in this post and buy from Nutribuddy I will receive 10% commission on the total purchase price, which goes towards the running costs of my blog. Thanks!

*SPOILER ALERT: Almond milk is basically made by blending almonds with water. Crazy, huh? If this blows your mind as much as it did mine, watch this. 

Anyway, I’m off to finish my shake – byeeee!

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Nutribuddy Breakfast: It’s Buddy Delicious! appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

But if there was one film I loved above all others as a hormonal adolescent, it was Francis Ford Coppola’s The Outsiders – a coming-of-age movie about a gang of hard-up young men (who all just so happen to be absolutely drop-dead gorgeous), the ‘Greasers’, who desperately want to fit in and be accepted, but for whom life is a daily struggle, as they battle with the middle-class ‘Socs’: the clean-cut, chino-wearing rich kids.

The 1983 film, an adaptation of a book written by S.E. Hinton (then a 15-year-old tomboy who was advised to abbreviate her name as the story was so violent and testosterone-charged) contains a poem by Robert Frost entitled Stay Gold, which has remained in my head, almost 30 years on….

The poem is used in the film to highlight the loss of innocence of the boys, that everything of beauty fades and comes to an end eventually. I won’t include spoilers as I’d recommend watching the film (available on You Tube or Google Play) if you haven’t already, other than to tell you that the character Johnny implores Ponyboy to “Stay gold” i.e to stay true to himself, not to change.

Whilst lying in the bath, daydreaming and pondering the fading of my suntan recently and my desire to Stay Gold following a wonderful holiday (that came to an end all to quickly, just as the poem darkly reminds us that everything does), all the memories of this film and just how much I loved it came flooding back and I just had to watch it once more.

So, d’ya wanna look golden and gorgeous this summer girls?  Here’s a quick round-up of all my favourite bronzing goodies – the products that will really help you to Stay Gold all summer long…

Garnier Summer Body: cheap as chips; slap it on thick. I marinade myself in this stuff every few days in the summer months and it works a treat without breaking the bank. Go for the darker shade of the two for a ‘fortnight in the Caribbean’, or the lighter for a ‘weekend in Provence’. There’s always an offer in either Boots or Superdrug, so keep your beady eyes peeled for a deal. Oh and wash your hands thoroughly after applying – it may be a gentle gradual tanner, but it can still leave your hands looking like you’ve been digging in the mud if you’re not careful.

Lush Black Stockings (click link for vid demo): once you’ve got your bod bronzed to perfection, swipe on this shimmery tint to switch it up a notch and really get your pins on point. It contains cocoa and shea butters to moisturise and smells delicious too. One thing though – if you’re feelin’ fine and feline with your sexy new glow and rub up against your fella (or anyone else for that matter) be prepared for the lucky person in question to be all a-shimmer too. Use sparingly!

Lancome Flash Bronzer Face: this is the daddy of facial tanners – a quick-drying gel that develops into a convincingly flawless tan within a few hours. Leaves your face feeling slightly tight afterwards, but I’m down with that – a non-Botox facelift thrown in for free

Soap and Glory Wonderbronze Shimmer Brick: instant chic for the shabby cheek. Sweep over cheekbones, collarbones and anywhere else you want to catch the light. Used correctly this will give you a healthy glow, go nuts and you’ll be mistaken for a mirror ball. Less is more.

Bourjois Delice De Poudre: if you prefer your tan matte and sweeter than a bar of Dairy Milk, this chocolate-scented bronzer is for you. Use alone, or before the Wonderbronze for a convincingly natural glow.

So there you have it: the fab five to keep your tan alive. And whilst you’re there, check out the movie – it features several of the Brat Pack and plenty of other before-they-were-famous eye candy besides: Ralph Macchio aka The Karate Kid, Rob Lowe, Matt Dillon, Emilio Estevez, Tom Cruise, Patrick Swayze….it’s like a who’s who of Eighties teen totty – now you get why I loved it so much!

The soundtrack to the movie, co-written by Coppola’s dad and Stevie Wonder, also entitled Stay Gold, is a hauntingly beautiful song which conveys a similar message to the poem. So kick back, relax, grab some popcorn, watch the film – I defy you to be unmoved by it. Then, get down to the shops and invest in the products I recommend and you too can be a bronzed beauty, all summer long. Do it for Johnny!

And remember ladies…

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Stay Gold: The Fab 5 To Keep Your Tan Alive appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

…as Arnold Schwarzenegger would say.

I’ll Be Back: Arnie as The Terminator photo credit

And I will, Aromatherapy Associates. You betchya sweet-scented ass I’ll be back. For these luxurious oils are to stress and tension what Arnie is to the big screen: The Terminator.

One thimble-sized capful of the potent blend of essential oils found in each frosted glass bottle has the power to sucker-punch aches and pains and KO your cricked neck. The stubby 55ml bottle may not look like a Hollywood heavyweight, but don’t be fooled by it’s diminutive stature – this badboy can certainly pack a punch.

A capful of this oil is even enough for a big bird like moi

At first glance, I was dismissive: as a super-tall woman who stands (ok stoops) for endless hours in a beauty shop (yes, I sell similar products; I know my stuff), I have a tendency to carry a lot of tension in my neck and shoulders. When I invest in bath products I like to glug plenty into the tub. It follows that I like my bath-time buddies as I like my men: tall, generous and strong. I expect a lot of bang for my buck, so to speak. So as soon as I clocked the hefty £45 price tag on this little fella, I almost dismissed it out of hand, in much the same way I’d dismiss Danny Devito as a potential love interest. This cheeky lil chappy just wasn’t doing it for me.

De Mama and I on our way out for a day of beauty buying

It was my mum who persuaded me otherwise, having had a satisfying experience with it herself. “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” she advised wisely with a knowing look “it’s worth every penny.” At five foot nothing, my pint-sized mama knows that good things can come in small packages. And boy was she right.

After a consultation during which we closed our eyes and inhaled our way through every tester in the rack, Mum opted for Deep Relax (a knockout blend of vetiver, chamomile, sandalwood and patchouli), whilst I was drawn towards Inner Strength (an uplifting combo include clary sage, frankincense, geranium and ylang ylang). I was also given a 3ml bottle of Hydrating Nourishing Face Oil as a freebie, which I obviously didn’t turn my nose up at (quite the opposite – containing jojoba oil, evening primrose, sandalwood, rose and patchouli, the aroma is absolutely divine).

I couldn’t wait to get my new fella back home and whip him out of his attractive packaging. Within minutes the bath was run and we were naked (don’t judge; older women know what they want – we don’t mess about). I sloshed a capful of the oil into my bath and slightly more than a capful of wine into my glass.

Like most people, my morning routine is a speedy shower – so when it comes to my day off or an evening of pampering, I like to set the scene with military precision: cold glass of white, lights off, candles on, hair up; ipad propped on the shelf near the bath with my favourite show on catch-up. Bliss.

My senses were instantly assaulted by the strength of the top-quality fragrance of this bath oil – my house smelt like a spa – and as I sank into the steaming water (I know it’s not good for you but I love a red-hot bath) I could literally feel the stress melting away (or that could have actually been my skin; I told you I have it too hot). Either way, the oils enveloped me in their warm embrace; any qualms about the value or efficacy of the products instantly dissolved, along with the ache in my neck and throbbing feet.

Hydrating Nourishing Face Oil: a little goes a long way

After the oils had worked their magic and I’d binged on my boxset, I emerged from the bath like a phoenix from the ashes: majestically restored, soothed and ready for my bed. I just had the strength to slather on the face oil – the few drops required means that even this teeny bottle will last for ages – then it’s off to the land of nod to sleep, perchance to dream…of Hollywood hunks and glamour. Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t have dismissed Danny Devito after all….

Small is beautiful photo credit

You can find out more and purchase Aromatherapy Associates luxurious oils, lotions and potions here. As well as being the perfect cheeky treat for yourself, they would also make a fantastic Mother’s Day gift – you can even get the bottles engraved. To get a 20% discount enter the promo code PB20 at the checkout. The code is valid until the end of April. You’re welcome .

Enjoy!

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Oil Be Back appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Rouge Edition Velvet – great creamy texture, velvet matte finish

Anyway, I digress. Back to the nude makeup. To me, the words ‘nude’ and ‘makeup’ had never featured in the same sentence until recently. Why would they? To me the term ‘nude makeup’ is an oxymoron: if you can’t even see it, how is it making you look better? What’s the point of shelling out a load of dosh and then taking an age to painstakingly apply a ton of products you can’t even see? Sounds like a case of The Emperor’s New Clothes to me.

No, if I’m going to spend an arm and a leg on the latest beauty innovations and formulations I want to emerge from the bathroom in the morning looking catwalk-ready and as glamorous as Marilyn Monroe. Nude doesn’t come into the equation: I want endless raven lashes, lips dripping brick-red gloss and skin like the finest porcelain. Or I did until now.

But recently I decided to give nude another chance, albeit my interpretation of nude. Rather than so little makeup that I still look anaemic, my naturally blonde features barely discernable on the blank sheet of A4 that is my morning face, I opted for visible makeup, but in hues of peach and muted browns that looked vaguely natural rather than naked.

eyeshadow palette in 02 OVER ROSE, lip pencil in 01NUDE WAVE, velvet matte lip cream in 10 DON’T PINK OF IT

“I prefer women to look natural” proclaim men everywhere – until the aforementioned women have the bare-faced cheek to leave the house without a scrap of slap. Because there’s natural…and then there’s rough as a badger’s backside; rarely does a woman look as good as Gigi Hadid does without makeup. (That’s not dissing the sisterhood girls – it’s just the brutal and blatant truth).

Because we all look like Gigi without makeup…NOT!

The fellas then quickly back-track with a tactful “You look beautiful either way…but I do love it when you’re all glammed up,” baulking in horror at the sight of thread veins, sparse brows and piggy eyes. He’s hardly Tom Hardy himself, let’s face it, but nevertheless everyone heaves a sigh of relief when the giant makeup bag comes out once more…

So here’s my version of nude: still made up to within an inch of my life, but in a softer palette of shades. No red lippy or flicky felt-tip liner, yet enough colour and definition that I won’t be mistaken for Casper the friendly ghost on my morning commute. The pigment is good, the quality decent and the best part is the price: Bourjois 3 for 2 at Boots meant I got all 3 items for around £15 (there are often offers on at either Boots or Superdrug – there’s one at Superdrug now). So if my love-affair with the nudes turns out to be as short-lived as most of my Tinder matches, I won’t be left broke and broken-hearted…

lanky birds: I’ve got an affinity with flamingos jumper from Oasis

Products from Amazon.co.uk

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The post Send Me Nudes appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Sparkles Lips: add some glitz to your lips

They say you should never wear glitter over the age of 40…or is it 30? Whatever! I say to hell with them and their rules – whoever ‘they’ are anyway! ‘They’ are probably the hoity toity, buttoned-up Fun Police – the conservative rule-followers who also disapprove of holidaying in Ibiza (so common!) and clubbing at any age after graduation. Well ‘they’ can just push their horn-rimmed specs back up their aquiline noses, quit quoting endless dos and don’ts from the play-it-safe rulebook and go back to finishing the Guardian crossword – ’cause we ain’t listenin’!

I’ve never been particularly fond of being told what to do, so I’m not about to start now. I’ve always had plenty to say for myself – too much, perhaps. My mouth does have a tendancy to run away with me: I was born lippy. But I’m an upstanding member of society and have never been in trouble with the law, so if the only crimes I’m committing are those against growing old gracefully then I think a mere caution is ample punishment, don’t you Officer?

Sparkles Lips in Holographic Pink

Yes, glitter sits in your wrinkles and shimmer shows up your crow’s feet, but does anyone really care? I’d far rather see someone out having fun, eyes crinkling, head thrown back and giggling uncontrollably with a bit of glitter settling into her laughter lines than a perfectly stylish yet stony-faced ice maiden.

There’s a time and a place for everything of course – the glittery lips I’m demoing in the clip below are not geared towards the school run (the dried glitter has the texture of sand so will probably remove several layers of little Johnny’s delicate peachy skin as you kiss him goodbye on the cheek at the gates) or zipping round Sainsburys (people will assume you’ve pulled an all-nighter and not slept yet), but on a big night out or a summertime festival they are perfect: fun, frivolous and – in my humble opinion – 40 year old-friendly.

I know I have major crow’s feet around my eyes and in a few years will resemble a big blonde shar-pei, but having a strong sense of humour is what’s got me through life thus far, so I wear the resulting laughter lines with pride. And besides, I’d rather crinkly eyes from smiling than deep frown lines and a furrowed brow.

So tear up the rule book (and that boring Boden catalogue whilst you’re at it), whack on the tunes to get you in the mood and get out the glitter pots, girls! It’s time to shine bright like a diamond and join the glitterati. Let’s sparkle, shimmer and shimmy our way through life while we still can (if we listen to the nagging naysayers it won’t be long before the ol’ knees give way and we won’t have the option anyway, eh?).

If being covered in a fine layer of fairy dust makes you happy then go right ahead, I say. I’m sure even the most fastidious of fashion rule-followers would agree: the best accessory you can wear – whatever your age – is a smile. So you may as well make it a sparkly one…

Now you’ve got your glitzy lippy sorted, why not try glitter eyes too? Crank up this old club classic and get yourself in the mood to party….have fun!

The post Born Lippy: My Guide To Getting The Sparkliest Lips In Town! appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Double duty beauty: Double Wear Stay-In-Place Makeup SPF10

I can’t believe I’m even having to mention this now, if I’m honest. This is basic stuff ladies – like GHDs for hair or Colgate for teeth. Any MUA (that’s makeup artist by the way ) worth her salt will have this product by the bucketload in her kit.

Ready for her close-up: my shade of choice is 02 Pale Almond

NB: This is not a sponsored post, nor am I affiliated with any of the brands mentioned above. I simply love the products. However, if you choose to buy through my Amazon Affiliates account by clicking below I will receive a small commission which helps cover the running costs of my blog. Thanks!

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Double Wear: The Ace of Base appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

When I was first invited to test CrocodOil my initial reaction was “Is this a crock…?”…closely followed by: “Surely people don’t rub oil from a crocodile into their skin? Their prehistoric-looking hide doesn’t look too supple to me; if it’s so full of goodness why do they look as though they’re in need of slathering on a decent moisturiser themselves, huh?” When you picture a crocodile you’re hardly conjuring up images of baby-smooth skin. “And anyway, aren’t they an endangered species?”

At the mention of Crocs I usually get a mental image of those ugly rubber shoes with the holes – you know, to let your dignity seep out? I shudder at the thought. I’ve been working in the beauty industry for over twenty years, yet I’d never heard of crocodile oil, so I was intrigued…

Actually, crocodile oil has been used for centuries to treat a variety of skin conditions, from eczema to psoriasis, burns to bites, as well as in anti-ageing preparations – although it’s relatively new to the UK market. I find several respected publications running glowing features about it, such as Marie Claire, InStyle and The Telegraph.

Peering into the mirror at my rough forty-something skin and sunken little eyes I’m all too aware that a harsh British winter has left me looking, well, a tad reptilian myself, so, curiosity piqued, I decide to get back in touch with Barbara Bantleman, CEO of Crocodoil, for more information.

I fire my questions at Babs, and she’s quick to reassure me that the crocodiles used in her skin preparations are farmed primarily for their meat, and that the skins are used as a by-product by the fashion and beauty industries in much the same way as cattle. However, the farms CrocodOil work with go one step further and release up to 30% of the baby crocs they rear back into the wild, contributing to the South African Nile crocs they use coming off the endangered list. The crocodiles must be carefully cared for: any damage to skins would render them worthless, so it’s in the interests of the farmers to ensure their wellbeing. Hmm..so far, so fair.

She goes on to explain that the crocodiles are farmed in a natural environment over a large area; there’s no use of hormones or pesticides; no animal testing – and the products themselves are created in a UK laboratory, independently tested and are EU cosmetic licensed.

Free range crocs on the farm in South Africa

Having ticked the animal welfare and ethics boxes, I’m eager to test the product for myself. Crocodile oil contains naturally-occurring terpines which are known antiseptics, oleic acid for cell regeneration and sapogens to soften the skin. It’s rich in omegas 3, 6 and 9: essential fatty acids (EFAs) needed for the body’s functions, with strong anti-inflammatory properties which can’t be produced by the body itself. It also contains linoleic acid, which eases muscle aches and joint pain, as well as antioxidant vitamin A to fight free radicals and helps repair skin.

CrocodOil is 100% pure, with only healing vitamin E and neroli (orange blossom) essential oil added to it, which gives a delicate floral fragrance, as well as being antiseptic and radiance-boosting. The product contains just these three ingredients; no chemicals, no preservatives.

15ml CrocodOil

The product I’m testing is the 15ml pump dispenser which retails from £35. My initial reservations about the morality around using an animal-derived product on my skin are appeased when I do my research. Animal fats are present in so many household items, from face creams to toothpaste, carrier bags, candles, soap, and anything requiring glue. Even the new five pound notes contain animal fat. If you’re using the meat from the animal, there’s no further harm in using the fat, which would otherwise be thrown away. No crocodiles are killed solely for the oil.

The Nile crocodile is a common species, farmed extensively as food in South Africa.  If I eat meat and own leather bags and shoes, then really what’s the difference? I appreciate it may not be for everyone, and I respect your opinion on this one; I’ll leave it you to decide. I slather on a generous layer and take to my social media accounts to share my discovery…

Some friends react in the same way that I initially did: voicing their concerns. Others get in touch to share their successful experiences with similar oils, such as Emu Oil, used by Hollywood stars such as Cate Blanchett, who swears by their rejuvenating and healing properties.

Like most women of my age, I’m keen to look as young on the outside as I still feel on the inside, yet am unwilling to succumb to the stunned-bunny look that often comes with Botox. And besides, I want my pocket money for more important things – like wine…and cake.

The following morning: to my surprise I wake up with the smoothest, softest skin I’ve had in years. I’m gobsmacked. Andy tries it too and is similarly impressed. My dad has always suffered with very dry skin and also found it beneficial. Over the following days my skin certainly appears more radiant and make-up glides on smoothly. The oil is also recommended for hands and nails, ragged cuticles, a scrawny neck, stretchmarks, cracked heels – none of which I have, of course <coughs>.

Needless to say though, if these benefits continue, I’ll certainly be getting some more. If the expression “Dry January” applies more to the state of your skin than your abstinence from alcohol this month, you might want to snap some up too…

NB: I have not been paid for this article and am not affiliated to CrocodOil in any way. I was supplied with the product and asked to write an impartial review. Should you buy it via the Amazon link below I will receive a small commission which goes towards the running costs of my blog. 

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Crocodoil: Snap It Up! appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

I’ve always liked the idea of being an ‘IT Girl.’ That’s IT as in rhymes with fit, not IT as in Information Technology. As a teenager flicking through the glossy pages of Vogue (in the newsagents, before putting it back and buying More magazine), my secret ambition was to be an It Girl (well I didn’t want my grammar school education going to waste, did I?).

I had visions of being an effortlessly chic and stylish siren, wafting in and out of parties, dry martini dangling from one perfectly manicured hand, on a cloud of Chanel number 5. It all sounded so glamorous, such fun – and so easy. You simply loitered casually around the swankiest bar you could find, primped and bouffed to within an inch of your young life, and your Prince Charming would appear in a puff of smoke (well, through clouds of cigarette smoke at least – you could smoke in bars in those days) and sweep you off your stiletto-clad feet…and into a life of elegant luxury.

Only that never happened. The slight flaw in my plan was the fact I lived in Bexley and not Bayswater, and the swankiest bar in town was….The Polo Bar. Where the men were chavvy rather than chivalrous. And not even men, it turned out. They were mostly pimply boy-racers named Dave or Steve, driving pimped-up Escorts and sporting snyde Ralph Lauren polo shirts with the collars turned up. You know the type: more no money than new money. The hours spent getting ready for a night out felt like a waste of make-up as soon as you got to the bar and had a quick scout about, talent-spotting. Jeez, the totty sure was thin on the ground. The fellas I seemed to attract like drunken moths to a flame were more Mr Potato Head than Mr Head of Finance.

I had a go at hanging around the King’s Rd for a while in my late teens, but the cliquey Hooray Henry’s seek out their own, and the Sloane Rangers could sniff out a Cockney (or Mockney, in my case, having been born in Kent) at a thousand paces – even (especially?) if it’s doused liberally in Erith Market knock-off Chanel. Or perhaps it was my Joker-style attempt at a brick red pout that put them off (I was channelling Heath Ledger’s interpretation of The Joker long before he was even a twitch in his dad’s pants).

So my plan backfired.

By my early twenties I began to wish I’d studied IT instead of Latin, as any hopes of living in a penthouse in Knightsbridge with a gaggle of daschunds and an oligarch began to evaporate like my cheap synthetic fragrance. It was looking like I was just going to have to fend for myself. How very modern, I sighed. I still dressed up like a Disney princess on a night out, ever the optimist, but alas I was just a donkey making an ass of myself in a sea of Shreks.

Since I wasn’t interested (or capable, probably) of being a doctor or a vet, and had zero interest in horticulture (I was more interested in hotty-culture), it quickly became apparent that Mr Chandler’s Latin classes would be as much use in my future endeavours as a chocolate fireguard. The other occupation best suited to a Latin speaker is a Latin teacher, and judging by his rhino-hide skin, horn-rimmed glasses and miserable downcast expression, Mr C’s career path wasn’t a line of enquiry I was inspired to pursue.

So it was an endless merry-go-round of beauty and make-up artist jobs for me. Yes, Dear Reader, I’m afraid I ended up working in Harvey Nics instead of shopping there. Ah, the irony! I think I was subconsciously hoping some of the wealth would rub off; that by making up the faces of the It-girls, one day I’d meet a sister-from-a-richer-mister whom I’d instantly bond with; she’d whisk me off to Bond St for shopping and cocktails, before introducing me to her trustafarian brother and heir to the family fortune, Tarquin.

But alas, it was not to be. Oh I met many a Tarquin, for sure, but he usually had a bejewelled Tamara on his arm, looking down her perfect aquiline nose at me with smug condescension. She’d give a visible shudder as I thanked her with my weak vowels (chucking in a bit of gratuitous rhyming slang just to watch her wince), before snatching her bag of pricey products and turning on her Valentino heels to clip-clop off for a (liquid, fizzy) lunch on the 5th floor (because eating in public is sooo vulgar, sweetie).

Fortunately, life on the shop floor doesn’t call for IT skills. There’s no need to be tech-savvy when your day-to-day business involves comparing the merits of various caviar face creams. We specialised in soft skin, not software. By evening we were out clubbing, not poring over computer manuals: I prefer techno to technology. I’m more familiar with fish ‘n’ chips than microchips…and if you mention gigs I picture music concerts. Which is why I come unstuck in the modern world.

I love to write, but when it comes to code and formatting – forget it. You may as well be speaking in Japanese. My eyes glaze over and I zone out. If I’m having trouble sleeping, I whack an Excel tutorial on YouTube and I’m snoring quicker than if I’d swallowed a fistful of Valium. You know you’re a technophobic dinosaur when your two-year-old nephew takes the ipad out of your hands with a sigh, before expertly flipping through the apps to find the one he likes.

My mind boggles when I’m blogging and I have a technical issue. Whenever someone praises my blog, I laugh nervously, terrified they’ll discover I’m a fraud: one-finger tapping it out on an ancient Amstrad. That’s a joke, by the way. I have a beautiful baby named Mac – well, her full name is MacBook – and she’s been keeping me awake all night just like the real thing. I look blankly at her while she makes noises at me, wondering when I’ll learn how to look after properly. These things don’t come with a manual, you know (oh no actually they do – I was confusing her with a real baby for a moment there).

Somehow, amidst the travelling, the partying and the chaotic noise of life, I forgot to tick the achievement box marked “PC literate” on my CV (Curriculum Vitae – see, fluent in Latin). Anyone will tell you I’m the most un-PC person, in all senses of the term. I’m a 40-year-old I.T virgin.

So if anyone fancies popping my Apple cherry, I’m all yours. No gooseberries allowed, just a right pear of sorts. I’ll whip out my Blackberry and let’s get fruity. I’ve got all-you-can-eat data on the Orange network so we can really go bananas. I’m not taking the pith, I’m just a bit of a plum on the ‘puter.

Sorry. I’ll stop.

It would appear my puns are about as good as my IT skills – and my fruitless attempts at becoming an It-Girl.

Sam x

Pssst! If you’re a technophobe like me, you might find the following helpful….

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post The 40 Year Old (I.T) Virgin appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

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…

Time to rise and shine for Urban Decay!

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…

Products from Amazon.co.uk

‹ ›

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Rise and Shine, it’s Urban Decay! appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Come on girls, who doesn’t love perfectly winged eyeliner? That super-crisp, sleek Nike tick that flicks across your eyelid, creating the perfect feline expression: the cat that got the cream.Now we all know this look can be a bitch to perfect – one eye glides on effortlessly, lulling us into a false sense of security, and then….well, then the other is a total catastrophe. Cue an ever-thickening black wedge as you try to balance them out…until you end up with a couple of disastrous inch-thick lines that look as though they’ve been applied by a toddler who’s been left unsupervised with a black marker pen. Not a good look. More der-brained than doe-eyed, I’d say.

Which is where Soap and Glory’sSupercat Eyeliner Pen in Carbon Black Extreme comes in. I love a bit of sassy retro packaging, so for me this liner has instant kerb appeal: a slim glossy stick with pink lettering and a satisfyingly tight click lid. No-one likes a liner that dries out after a few uses (I recently tried a pricey brand who shall remain nameless, and it was utterly pointless – dried out in literally 2 wears). The nib itself is like a very pointy felt-tip, and glides on like a dream. Even a heavy-handed clutz like myself would struggle to mess this one up.

The resulting flicks are impressive: I’m a bit trigger-happy in my excitement to try this new product, but to my amazement the flicks are On Fleek, as the young’uns would say.

A few hours in and I’m still looking peng (to keep the youth slang going)…is it sad when 40 year olds try and act down with the kids? Hmm, I thought so. I’ll stop.

Anyway, as I was saying, I peer into my compact mirror whilst I’m at the festival (yep, still desperately clinging to my youth) and to my delight my eyeliner is still looking pretty good, despite several hours of sweaty booty-shaking in the scorching July afternoon sun.

Okay, so there is the faintest hint of a smudge in one corner, but to be fair when you get older and your eyelids start to mimic those of Droopy from the old kids’ cartoon, the resulting wrinkles are bound to cause a teeny-tiny smudge occasionally. It says more about the proliferation of my laughter lines than the quality of the product, I’m afraid; I must be walking around constantly cracking up (or should that be creasing up?) if these crow’s feet are anything to go by…

Oh yeah, you can smirk, but it happens to the best of us – you’ll get yours, kids! I remember when I was a young make-up artist and would practise on my mum: I’d bemoan her droopy eyelids that seemed to counteract all my hard handiwork with the eyeshadow. Well karma is a bitch as they say, because now I have a lil droopy eyelid syndrome all of my own. Thanks Mama!

If, like me, you also wear contact lenses and your eyes have a tendancy to water as though someone’s been peeling onions directly under them, then finding an eyeliner that doesn’t budge is no mean feat.

So this lil beaut comes in at the ridiculously reasonable price of just £6, and Boots often has offers on top of that: either 3 for 2, or buy one get one half price. Can’t say fairer than that! I invested in the Archery eyebrow pencil and the Thick And Fast mascara whilst I was there – it would’ve been rude not to, really.

So shimmy that sweet ass of yours down to Boots, or use my Amazon links below, grab your Supercat liner and get yourself some of these fleeky flicks, girlfriend!

You’re welcome!

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Get Your Flicks On Fleek appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.