Because who doesn't want to look like a hagged-out 47-year-old, I finally acquiesced and decided to do a makeup tutorial today. I act like millions of you have been absolutely clamoring, and spearheading an email campaign, and painting "Do a Makeover, Joon!" over your "Save Ferris" water towers.
Water towers are a big thing with me lately. What do you think that means? Is it because I'm retaining my own water, so a water tower is kind of my symbol? My spirit animal? Water tower. Representin'.
At any rate, this water-saver has been playing with her makeup since she was approximately three and her grandmother was officially over her and said, "Go play with Gramma's makeup, honey." I actually have no idea if she said that or not. But I assure you girlfriend wanted me out of her hair. And most of the makeup on her vanity belonged not remotely to her, but to daughters and daughters-in-law and girlfriends of her sons and so on. None of this mattered to me as long as I got to glop on all the ginger-colored lip gloss and pan mascara that was on that vanity for the picking.
Nothing was better than that cake mascara in the pan.
And so sanitary, too! Seeing as you had to lick the brush to get the cake going. Which just sounded kind of dirty, and I really didn't mean to get all Bye Bye, Pie: XXXtreme Makeover. See what I did, there? Anyway, unsanitary. Maybe she's born with cholera. Maybe it's Maybelline.
And how come nothing is just a makeover anymore? Why is it an extreme one? It's just like how everyone's a supermodel now. You know what? Everyone isn't. Some people are just models, and that's a fine thing to be. Present company excepted, because wait'll you see me in all my made-up glory. And maybe I could shut up now and commence paintin'.
Here's me in my before picture, and I see my robe has fallen open in a most tempting way. Because who doesn't want to see a hagged-out 47-year-old naked? Anyway, I always wash my face before I begin, and I also clarify with a toner that contains salicylic acid, which exfoliates and removes all the grime, dead cells, resentments against your crappy family and Hostess Cupcake bits from your pores.
I am finally old enough that my once-oily skin is now dry in parts, so I use an oil-free moisturizing gel from Clinique that may or may not have come free from one of those buy-something-get-a-bunch-of-makeup-you-won't-use kits from Clinique. What I'm saying is prepare your skin however you see fit. You might want to marinate it overnight in a large bowl filled with garlic and lemon. I don't know.
Let's say I have a dreadful migraine, and am also stuffed up and maybe nauseated thanks to cholera caught from that mascara cake in 1972. Let's say I've had the worst day ever, and yet another of my cats have died and I've been left by a whole new husband. Let's say I'm in debt because I can't stay away from the Joan Rivers collection of armbands or whatever Joan Rivers sells. No matter what. NO MATTER WHAT, I will not leave the house without brushing my eyebrows. It's really the only way I'm neat and tidy. Eyebrows. I brush them straight up, then smooth them over.
I use a concealer that is one shade lighter than my foundation, and by "one shade" I mean, gee, this looks a tad lighter. They always tell you to put concealer UNDER your dark-circles area, and to that I have always said, "?" That makes no sense to me. And although I love my Latisse, one of the side effects is darkness around your eye, and suddenly I look like a hollow-eyed heroin addict, which let's face it, heroin is relaxing. Who can resist a little pinch between your cheek and gum after a hard day?
I read that using foundation around your nose to remove any redness takes 20 years off your face. Which would render me a zygote. Anyway, sometimes you hear something profound that shapes your whole life, and this was one of those times for me. To find the right shade and texture of foundation for you, buy 7294923949232 goddamn bottles of foundation and leave them all basically unused on your makeup counter till the day you die and your cousin Katie has to find a way to ecologically dump them all, cause she's some kind of filthy hippie who cares about the earth and so on.
Don't put foundation everywhere, like don't put it on your doctor's walls or your coworker's girl bits. Just on places that need a little even-ing out, such as ruddy areas or Mike Tyson.
I use a powder blush because of the previously mentioned oily skin, which makes creams and gels fall right off me like dignity on Farrah the teen mom. I use a shade with pinky undertones, because coppers and peaches make me look like I'm doing my squaw impression, which really brings all the braves to your yard. Since my face shape is not round, square or even oval but more peach pit and I really wish Nat would get off my face (June. Making vague 90210 jokes since 1992), I apply blush sort of in a round motion just on the apples of my cheeks. I'd say "where I smile" but come on. I got a little black book with my poems in.
You don't even WANNA know how much ding-dang eye shadow I put on. With a larger brush (and I do go all out on brushes. Go ahead and buy the Wet-n-Wild eye shadow, cheapie, but get Chanel brushes. You will thank me the rest of your days) I put a very light, neutral color such as Switzerland all over my lid. Then with the teeniest tinyest small teensy Lilliputian brush you have ever SEEN, I use a very dark color in the crease of my eyes. I don't make it big, I'm just trying to give you the illusion that I still have eyelids and not huge old lady Micky Rourke puffs for eyes.
I put a thin thin thin line of either gray, brown, gray brown or gray and brown eye pencil on my upper lids only because I'm old and if I get too makeuppy around my eyes I start to remember what happened to Baby Jane. If I'm feeling extra wild I'll go over it using dark eye shadow with that Lilliputian brush again. And no, I don't WING IT OUT for cat eyes. Am not dating Captain Kirk is why.
Get a Shu Umura or a Shesido eyelash cirler. If you say you cannot afford one, skip rent this month. And hey, food isn't a MUST or anything. If you have some drug store eyelash curler, your whole life is stupid. Trust me on this.
To find the right mascara for you, see the foundation discussion above, and worry about what your cousin Katie will do with all that landfill. Here I am using Great Lash only because it's OKAY, but it doesn't thrill me. I feel like I've kissed a lot of mascara frogs and have not found the right one for me yet. The one to which I will commit forever. It's more like misscara at this point.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh! My mascara just ran.
And that's another point. I don't use waterproof cause it's a bitch to get off and I figure it can't be good for you. Because I'm all about health. And for me, I apply 70-89 coats. Seriously. I don't stop till I get enough, or resemble the guy from A Clockwork Orange. This might not be a good beauty tip, but look how famous that guy from A Clockwork Orange is. He's a legend. You know why? Good lashes.
My big trick is to take ANOTHER teensy brush and add white or silver shadow to the inside corners of my eyes. I do not know why this works, and maybe it doesn't and everyone's like, Why did June store her cocaine in her EYE? But it seems to make my eyes bigger and so on. My goal is to have eyes like a Persian cat.
Because I have teensy school marm lips, I line them in a neutral color and add a very light shade of lipstick, usually a pinky nude. If I wear dark colors I look like I have never enjoyed sex a minute of my life. I look like Miss Grundy from the Archie comics. Not sexy, is what I look, with a dark color. Is what I'm throwing down.
Do you think I'm officially older than Miss Grundy? That poor thing was probably in her early 30s, wasn't she? If anyone had just asked her to the Chocolate Shoppe even ONCE, maybe things would have turned out better for her. Maybe if she'd worn a pinky nude lipstick.
I don't know. I can't get hung up on Miss Grundy or I'll start to feel bad.
Anyway, that's it. Natural beauty in 79 easy steps! Finish it off with a you're-too-old-for-that cherry barrette and you're good to go to the chocolate shoppe! Although in this instance I think this was the night Ned and I went to that terrible restaurant where the waiter actually pointed both index fingers at us and went, "tch tch" with his mouth. So my effort was for naught.
Let me know if you have any questions, like Why so shallow, June or Why's your cousin such a hippie, Joooon. I will gladly answer all of them.
Okay, MOVE! THAT! BUS!
