I've never been a makeup junkie. Growing up, my friends would all bust out their makeup collections at sleepovers and experiment with different looks and application techniques, pictures of pure concentration as they rimmed their eyes with eyeliner and dusted eye shadow on their lids. I would usually just watch, until one of them wanted to make me over. Then I would oblige, put myself in the hot seat, and let them do whatever they wished to my face. Truth was, makeup and I got off on a shaky start, and it was something I didn't fully understand.
It all started when I was thirteen and my friends Lauren and Meagan came back from a trip to the mall. They had gotten makeovers at the Clinique counter and looked like improved versions of themselves. Their complexions were evened out. Their eyes were just a bit more defined. Their lips showed just a hint of color. It was pretty and natural. After seeing them, my mother started encouraging me to try makeup. To this day I have no idea why, as I had never indicated to her that I wanted to wear the stuff. All I can figure is that maybe she was realizing that I was getting to the age where I'd want to start experimenting with makeup and was trying to be proactive, or maybe her mom never allowed her to wear makeup and she was living out some sort of adolescent fantasy through me. Either way, following in the footsteps of my friends, we headed out to the mall so I could get a makeover. But the Clinique counter couldn't take me because I didn't have an appointment, so I ended up going to the Elizabeth Arden counter. Instead of winding up looking like a naturally prettier version of myself, I looked like a Twilight-esque vampire hooker.
Lord, have mercy. I sparkled. You could ice a cake with the amount of foundation I had on my face. Ladies and gentleman, this was my very first experience with makeup. It just went downhill from there. Attempts at trying to create smoky eyes resulted in me looking like the victim of domestic abuse. Trying to create the cool, smudgy eyeshadow effect on my sister's lower lash lines made her look like a raccoon. Eventually I gave up and resorted to wearing a bit of foundation and powder purely as zit cover up, and a little mascara, blush and gloss. And, until recently, that's more or less been my makeup regimen.
Then one day, bored at work, I remembered a story I had read about Michelle Phan, a Bay Area YouTube makeup guru. I decided to watch one of her makeup tutorial videos, just to see what they were all about:
Then I watched another:
Before I knew it, it was 5:00 and I had learned how to create everything from smoky eyes to homemade pore strips. I was hooked. She made makeup application look so simple and fun, and I had the urge to get back in the saddle and experiment. So the following weekend, I tried her technique for smoky eyes. To my surprise, IT WORKED. Instead of looking like the business end of someone's wrath, my eyes looked dark and seductive. I was finally wrapping my mind around the mystery that was makeup, and discovering a whole new world.
But I think I have a problem. Ever since my success with the smoky eyes, I haven't been able to stop buying makeup. I got a new Caboodles case and tons of E.L.F. products at Target. Today, I got this baby at Sephora. I'm hoping that this recent purchase will satiate my hunger for all things cosmetic; otherwise, this addiction might prove to be as big as my perfume addiction.