As I said earlier, this blog was a response to nakedjen's series on makeup that she wrote to participate in a project by Rabbit Write. It made me think about how makeup has played different roles in my life at different times. In Junior High, it was about rebellion and exploring sexuality. In High School, it was de rigeur, I didn't even think about it. I didn't care if people saw me without makeup, but my routine was to wear it.
In college, I continued to wear it, more or less. I started to suffer my first depression my freshman year of college. Makeup became a little more erratic during those periods. And I went through extremes. At one point, I spent over $100 buying makeup at the Coop, allowing a middle aged, over made-up woman convince me to buy everything from moisturizer to powder, as if it were soup to nuts. I was probably a little hypo manic, but of course, I had no clue about those things in those days. $100 was a lot of money for me. It was technically a month's allowance (although I can genuinely say this was ridiculously low: Even the students receiving full scholarships were given more spending money than that). I worked under the table, because my parents had some arrangement with their taxes to help pay my tuition. But it wasn't much. But usually I just wore eye liner, and mascara, and maybe some blusher. I did that pretty consistently through the age of 25.
Then I got terribly sick, and almost died of a systemic infection while I was teaching at a boarding school, and they wouldn't give me the necessary time off to recover (a long story). I struggled to get through the final semester, one during which I already knew I had been laid off. So I was looking for work, weak from illness, and becoming clinically depressed (I was already under treatment at that point). At that point, I stopped wearing makeup for about three years. I had to start wearing it again when I began working clinics at law school, there is just a certain standard attire that attorneys wear, and you don't want to attract attention to yourself, when your client should be the focus.
In spite of living in San Francisco during law school, a city in which there seems to be an ordinance requiring women to wear lipstick, I never started to wear it. Most women wore it because it was protective against the wind in SF, which chapped their lips. Carmex was another big item, the men tended to use that. But I found I unconsciously chewed lipstick, Carmex, chapstick, whatever, off my lips. So between dampening them and chewing on them, lipstick made it much, much worse. Nonetheless, I am one of those people whose smile splits their lips into a bloody mess during part of every year. The most I wear is a touch of stain (as in, I put on a little lipstick, then blot my lips like crazy so there is no sticky feeling).
It was around this time, that I began to feel a little clownish in makeup. I would see pictures of me, and my cheeks looked insanely red, instead, of highlighted. My eye makeup would smear, and create dark circles of mascara and eyeliner around the rim of my eyes. I also began to rub my eyes more, because of allergies. This meant I was getting makeup in my eyes, and irritating the hell out of them. At this point, I tried switching from Clinique (which was what everyone I knew wore), to Origins, which touted itself has a natural, hypo-allergenic, alternative makeup. But I didn't like their narrow range of colors (this was when they first appeared), and wearing it actually seemed to make things worse.
So I rededicated myself to just doing my eyes, with an occasional touch of blusher for special occasions, although I began to hate it so much, I soon stopped wearing it at all. I began to realize that my two straight sisters, who were very fashion conscious, seemed to have somehow magically acquired make-up skills I had not. I still had the awkward hand of a 13 year-old, whereas makeup enhanced their looks, without being obvious. I have no idea where they learned such things. My mother never wore make-up, and as a rather simple-minded feminist, didn't approve of our wearing it. Don't get me wrong, I am a rabid feminist, but there are some people whose grasp of the movement is so rudimentary, it is almost parochial.
But my sisters had more girlfriends in high school than I did. Our prep school went co-ed 4 years before I began to attend, so girls made up just 20% of the student body. By the time my youngest sisters were attending, it was more like 40%. I enjoyed being in a very "male" school. I wasn't precocious sexually, so while I was interested in boys, I wasn't really interested in sexual relationships. I played Dungeons & Dragons, Ultimate Frisbee, and hung out with the Theater Geeks, who at that point were still largely male. Yet in spite of our shared interest in theater, the guys and I did not swap makeup tips. I had no one who could teach me how to wear it, so I largely imitated what I saw the other teenage girls do. I remember candy flavored Bonne Belle lip gloss, blech. But I used it. And Charlie perfume. It was what everyone else at my school wore. What a cacophony of scents that must have been.
When I went to France at 17, and accidentally stumbled on a French cologne that just smelled amazing on me, Courreges En Bleu (the "in" is a bastardization for Americans), I considered myself kind of avant garde for wearing it. A real French scent! I wore it for years. Anyway, my sisters gave me a few tips about how to do my eyes, and I can now do kind of a "daily wear" look that is acceptable, and a mildly more sophisticated party look.
Wow, this is so not interesting. But I have gone this far.
I continued to wear makeup for work throughout most of my adult life, until I was about 36. At that point, I met DH. He wasn't interested in makeup, and like a lot of guys, insisted I wore it for other women, and not for men. Not that I think his premise was entirely wrong. But I genuinely felt it made me more attractive, period, it wasn't truly directed at either gender. I wore as much makeup for my copious number of gay friends as I did on dates. Although come to think of it, my gay male friends approved of when I put myself together particularly well, and made a big fuss over me. I always was told I looked "amazing" when I dressed for club events. I remember the New Year's before I met DH, I bought a brown velvet short-sleeved, A-line shift. I was at my thinnest ever as an adult (a side effect of Depakote, although it usually makes people gain weight). I had a fresh haircut, from my fabulous stylist, who next I am in Pittsburgh, I should probably go see for old times' sake: he did my hair for my wedding. I actually not only used product on my hair, something I do maybe once ever 6 months, for once it actually came out perfectly. I had some sparkly jewelry, and hair pins. I was one of the few straight people at the New Year's party, but I got a ton of attention.
I met DH two months later. I still did a lot of volunteer work in the GLBT community, especially with syringe exchange and as a youth chaperone for our GLBTQ youth group at the Pittsburgh GLCC. But I wasn't as involved in the social life as I had been. A few months later, I was out of work, but engaged. I started only wearing makeup for special occasions, but I felt less and less skilled at it.
For our wedding, I got a lesson from a makeup artist, who was actually supposed to do my makeup on my wedding day. As usual, the schedule went to hell, so I cancelled, and decided to do it myself by memory. I remember I bought a special foundation that my sister actually made me stop and buy on my way from the red eye between SFO and PIT (with a stopover in Charlotte, ugh). Clarins, of some sort. I have a funny memory, it is kind of steel trap. I remember incidents in my friends lives, and mention them, and they say they had entirely forgotten about that, until I mentioned it.
My wedding was really the last time I wore makeup with any regularity. Over the years, I had accumulated a rather large supply of makeup, and as gross as it is, I didn't know any better, and used it on the occasions I did get dressed up. It looked horrible. Of course. I started working with dogs, the first job where makeup was actually inappropriate. I threw out all of my makeup, and didn't wear any again until my sister's wedding in 2006. My sister, the fashion maven, the good looking one, a VP of Buying at Neiman Marcus. Also, she was getting married in Florence (where she did an exchange year, she is fluent in Italian), and was paying for our hotel, and half our airfare, making it a trip to Europe for what it would have cost to go to a US wedding. It was the first semi-formal evening wedding I had ever been to, as well.
At this point, I was no longer thin. I felt big and coarse. I had a farmer's tan from working in the Sun with dogs. I knew I had no eye for what looked good on me, which is why this very sister flew out to Pittsburgh to go dress shopping for my wedding: she was the only family member who could guess what would flatter me. But that was not an option this time, she was a little busy planning her overseas wedding, and my dress was probably not the highest priority. NakedJen to the rescue! She not only helped me pick out an appropriate dress, she made sure I got shoes that would work with it, and lent me her evening wrap.
I also felt like I had to wear makeup for this. My sister's friends were all very appearance oriented (not that they are jerks to others about it, but it matters to them how they look). I knew people would be wearing designer dresses, and have their hair up, and everything. So I decided I had to get some makeup, and I had to get my nails done. I got acrylics for the first time ever (which was an experiment that lasted three months, what a waste of time). The cool thing is my nails really show up in the pictures of my pointing to features at Stonehenge. That was about the only thing that was cool, although I received lots of compliments. I imitated Sister3's makeup, so I didn't feel too bad. Sister3, Sister2, Sister1, and myself:
So I thought that was the last of the makeup for a while. I threw out a lot of stuff.
But as often happens as bipolar people age, the type of episodes, and the frequency with which I was having them, was increasing. For the first time I started having mixed episodes, which even people who experience psychoses say is the single most miserable type of mood episode to have. I now have those about three times a year, my last really bad one was in May/June. In addition, as I swung towards a mixed episode, I often passed through a period of hypo mania. Sometimes I stop at hypo mania, sometimes I will go on to have a minor mania, but the point is, my illness took a sharp turn in the spring of 2006.
Along with hypo mania (and mania) comes flamboyance, and wasteful spending on things that seem ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY FOR SURVIVAL at the time you buy them. Things like purses, and glass ornaments, and (I admit it) costume jewelry, and shoes. I have been lucky in that I have only gotten myself into financial trouble once, it was from a mix of my mood disorder and hospital bills (this was that awful year, when I was 25), and I pulled myself out of the financial hole bit by bit, and then DH helped me get entirely back on track. At one point, the FDIC wouldn't allow me to have a bank account, because I had bounced so many checks. The symptoms of bipolar illness are not just physical.
During one of the episodes I have had recently, I bought some makeup at Costco: Their Kirkland Brand Borghese Mineral Make Up kit, and mascara. I liked it, but I didn't wear it too often. I wasn't happy with my skin, and while I do believe that the mineral makeup is safer for my skin, I don't believe it has any curative properties, the way many claim it does. Also, I didn't really have any nice eyeliner. I tried the Kirkland version of ProActiv, but while it did work to an extent, it dried out my skin, and I couldn't find the balance between pimply and flaky. I just didn't like to look at my face.
Then, in spite of DH's unemployment (he was unemployed for 10 months, and I only worked for three months of that time, very part-time, earning very little), he told me to go with NakedJen back to the Oregon Country Fair for the second time in a row. The OCF is the best time evah. It is music, and magic, and costumes, and food, and performances, and crafts, and art, and just fun. It has stretched my boundaries both years I have gone. I have come back floating on a cloud both times as well. Last year I went with DH, this year I went on my own, and met NJ and her friend D in Veneta (which I finally learned to pronounce correctly this year).
I had beyond hinted that I wanted to go. I had basically oozed desire to go to the Fair all year long. When he got laid off in October, there was a little voice in the back of my head that said, "Surely he will be working in time for the OCF, right?" Awful of me, but true. When he told me to just go, and not worry about it, I was ecstatic. I was also in the middle of a rather bad episode, that seemed to teeter between hypo mania and a mixed state. I was frenetic, and I wanted to buy things. The Fair is about festive dress, and while I had had some clothes last year, I new I had to add to my "fairy" wardrobe. Fortunately, by sheer happenstance, the best place to go shopping for this kind of thing is vintage and thrift stores, or the monetary damage would have been pretty bad. I shopped and shopped. I started to buy makeup for the fair, as well. Eyeliner, eyeshadow, glitter, mascara. And I began to practice. I decided no one was here to see me, except for DH, and I just told him I was practicing with makeup, and some of it was going to look awful, and I was going to take it off right after I put it on, to try again, so he wouldn't have to suffer through any particular look for long. He was surprised I was so concerned about what he thought. I can be kind of defensive about things I don't feel confident about sometimes (do I really need two "abouts" in that sentence? Hmmm).
So I practiced. Every night. And because I was hypo, I caked it on, and looked like I belonged in the Cirque de Soleil (which by the way, would have been a totally appropriate look for the OCF, but was not what I was after). I wore makeup on the first day of the fair, and I wasn't thrilled with it. But it all melted off my face anyway, in the unbelievable heat and humidity of that day. After that, I stuck to the famous MAC Glitter, spreading it all over my face, hair, overexposed chest, etc. I was complimented all day. I also was wearing my most fun purchase that day, a little bustle over skirt. I had unknowingly brought a black skort, which was just the right length for the bustle. The only picture of me at the Oregon Country Fair:
I came home with a new interest in makeup. I started to wear it just a bit more. Especially eye makeup, but I began to wear a bit of the mineral foundation, it was so light. For going out, I started wearing the very pale pink mineral eye shadow, that just had a glisten to it, and grey and purple eyeliner (not at the same time), to go with my green eyes. I put just a dusting of blush on my cheeks, and what I liked was I could rub off a little, so it blended and lightened, and I didn't feel so clown-like.
I still struggled with certain aspects. But I for some reason kept practicing, even after the fair. And then, just about 8 weeks later, I went to Lush, and started cleaning my skin with their products, and suddenly, my skin is really nice. I can wear foundation or not, it looks good. And I don't feel a little bit phony, the way I always used to, when I was made up, with obvious acne, as if I were somehow pretending it wasn't there (I know, that is definitely a weird train of thought, but remember, I'm nuts).
Because I had not really used makeup so regularly in so long, I had things divided up into ziploc bags: Eye makeup in one, lipsticks and gloss in another, blush in another. It was unwieldy and ugly. And then one day I happened across this at a Goodwill:
What caught my eye (as DC can probably guess) is that it has a very similar logo to It's a Girl Thing's shop sign. But I also loved how feminine it was. And Principessa, it was like a cross between a fairy tale and a trip to Italy. So I bought it, and crossed my fingers that my makeup would fit, because it was kind of petite, not full lunchbox sized. In fact, Principessa is a line of cosmetics, and the box was part of a gift set that had been used up (I research the strangest things). Anyway, here it is, with the makeup put away:
So I am back to wearing makeup again. I still feel like I have a bit of a heavy hand, and tend to wipe a lot of color off my face whenever I put it on. But I don't feel like I am freakish. I am a bit hypo/mixed right now, and I am wondering how long this will last.
But it makes me feel really feminine, in a way it never has in and of itself before now. I still am scared of the Cirque du Soleil look creeping up on me, but I feel better when I am wearing it. Clothes are making me feel more feminine, too. It is funny at 47 I am having this sudden urge to enhance my femininity. Or maybe it is totally not funny, maybe it is to be expected, as one way of confronting the next stage of my life as a woman. I am deep in to peri-menopause. Maybe this is my way of countering aging.
Plus ça change, plus c'est la meme chose....
No comments:
Post a Comment