Tuesday, 9th October 2012
When I first started wearing make-up, I used my fingers. After years of child’s play it was time to grow up.
After years of child’s play it was time to grow up. Be legit and get some brushes. I discovered a universe of tools for the eyes alone. There’s the brush for the crease, the lid, the brow. There’s the slanted brush, a bushy brush, straight edged brush. Don’t forget the blending brush, eraser brush, and the painting brush. I got them all. The girl at the make-up counter went to town.
“You’ll want to layer your palette. Be sure to pull the color. Sweep from the midline.”
What was I doing before? This was an art and I had been faking it for years. I was such an amateur. But now I’d be a bonafide professional. At least I thought.
I realized I’d had this same inner dialogue in business, in theatre, anytime I was creative, in relationships, when cooking, or traveling, or packing a suitcase for a weekend getaway, flossing, waiting for the elevator, or getting a manicure. This feeling that maybe the truth is … I am a fraud. As long as no one finds me out I’ll be in the clear. Eye shadow application was apparently no different. This theme had reared its head again. But this time I’d win. I’d become the real deal. Me, an image of success, after all these years. Finally.
But I didn’t factor in cleaning the brushes. Or the special foundation stick made JUST for the lid. Or the techniques to blend, apply, shape, or remove. If I didn’t obey the rules of professionalism there’d be consequences to pay. My shimmering gold would mix with my slate gray and I’d look like a dolled up raccoon. This ‘professional’ process also sucked up more time (making me regularly late). Not to mention my look changed. I was no longer the creative, mysterious, natural beauty. I was coiffured, manicured, and boring.
I went back to my original, not so elegant process of application. But something changed. The ring finger became my blending brush. Adding more color in jiff was as easy as using the other hand. For a mess-up, the knuckle was the perfect eraser.
That little lesson in eye shadow taught me something about the business of the creative healer. You do make it up. Because you don’t know how, you sort of fake it. But what you’re really doing is designing your own palette of success. I didn’t create a business by following the rules but I found success – quirks turned into grace and insecurity into creative juju.
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