Mac Daddy, Daddy M.A.C.

I love funny movies. I love scary movies. Romantic movies? Meh, not so much.
But when it comes to my make up, my two very least favourite genres are comedy and horror. Tragically, I recently endured both…

I was mosying around Selfridges pre-fabulouso hair make over on Tuesday when the lovely lady on the Benefit counter asked if I would like to try out some products. Clearly they do not know who I am and were very happy when I said yes. I always feel awful doing this on the Benefit counter because I know I’m not going to buy anything – I have everything already! And watching their little faces fall as I count off what I’m already using, tch, a heartbreaker.

But this one was different. She was not going to be deterred by a simple unchangeable fact like, oh I don’t know, my skintone. Oh no, she was determined she was going to sell me something. Now, I admire this determination in a woman but not in a salesperson. If I want it, I’ll buy it. If I don’t, I won’t. I will not be bullied. Within five minutes, this woman had slathered my face in You Rebel tinted moisturiser, Benetint to the cheeks and lips and Highbeam all over my face.
“Now you look healthy!” she crooned, passing me the mirror.
That’s the comedy part.

Then I looked in the mirror.
And that’s where it turns into a horror movie. Step aside Freddy, Jason and Leatherface, Orange Momma is here to take your crown.
I looked like Judith Chalmers.

But still, epitome of politeness that I am, I thanked her for her services, stepped down from her stool and declined her offer to take me to the till. Instead, I made a face-down bee-line straight for the M.A.C. counter and by God, am I glad.


The look on Tori, the make up artist’s face, confirmed what the Benefit girl had assured me was ‘just bad lighting’ was actually a car crash of a makeover and immediately grabbed for her cleansing wipes. Forty minutes later, I was cleansed, moisturised, made up and walking away (running for my bus actually) with a list of all the products she had used to correct my fright mask. I also found out that after 26 years of having combination skin, I was now erring towards dry and that although I’m the palest girl in the world, my skintone is actually warm, which is why it is so damn hard for me to find foundation. But find foundation I did. And blusher. And bronzer. And concealer.

I went with Studiofix Fluid if you’re interested…

The best part was that there was no hard sell. Just genuinely useful advice. Tori even recommended I go and take a look at the foundation outside before I bought it. She gave me a quick lesson in applying my blusher, she gave me killer cheekbones and most importantly, she made me smile.

And that’s how I managed to turn Friday the 13th into Love Story in a hop, skip and a jump across the beauty hall.

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