Angela Bocage



On eyelashes, part III; and getting my butt kicked…

In previous posts on the fringe, the lovely femmey fringe that we peek out from under or bat to express our various selves, I’m sure I’ve mentioned Diorshow mascara. My teenage correspondent and I have now gotten ourselves some of their new flavor, Diorshow Blackout. Today was my first experience with it, and it was sure enough beautiful, deeply black, very lengthening. Like its progenitor, it also sure enough dematerialized after a morning of hard work in a very warm law office. However, it did not flake or crumble into my sensitive easily-inflamed eyes, nor was it stiff or spidery. I’m certainly going to give it another go.

Before I leave this subject for the moment, just want to mention two hallowed principles of mascara that I have always ignored: wiping the wand before application, and making sure each tube of mascara you obtain is then tossed out after six months. I say, no no no–because while those principles no doubt sell more mascara, I’ve never had any harm from old stuff. Perhaps I just use it a lot and it’s always run out before six months? No, don’t think so, because none of the lovely wands of Diorshow I sometimes find in purses I haven’t used in a while 😉 have never harmed my eyes either…and they are rather touchy, irritable eyes. And wiping the mascara off the wand before using it? Redonkulous! The stuff’s supposed to get on your eyelashes, and all those stiff little bristles are designed to comb it through! (I feel such outrage when confronted by baldfaced lies, can’t you tell?) Also, the glorpier it is when extracted from the tube, the better the brush is for resting gently for a moment at the very base of your lashes where they’re thickest, wiggling minutely back and forth until it’s stuck in them, and then sweeping all that glorp out to the ends for gorgeous black curving fringe.

On why I’m not the best makeup reviewer/blogger today….let’s review, now, some of the symptoms of depression. There’s sleep trouble, either doing it too much or too little. Eating troubles, likewise. Feeling worthless, or to put it in mundane terms, like you’re not doing a very good job as a mom, a racing-pig trainer, a manicurist, a competitive swimmer or whatever your passion is, and like you’re not doing very well for your children, or racing pigs, or manicure customers, or swimming coach, even though you love them very much. And loss of interest in normally enjoyable activities; which means, say, that even though you absolutely love going out on the balcony of your Venetian palazzo to blow soap bubbles of an evening, you suddenly notice several sunsets have passed without their wobbly rainbow shiny fragility floating out over the canal and you just don’t have the energy to care too much. It’s a mysterious and no doubt cyclical girly-thing and will no doubt be over any day now. Meanwhile, some sleep is in order…

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Comments

  1. * rosewood says:

    I can’t believe this. I’m 45 and have never worn makeup, yet this series on mascara has given me a desire to purchase, to apply, to wear, to glory in all that is mascara. What a gift you have. Again I have learned that it doesn’t matter what the subject is when the reviewer is passionate and knowledgable.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 5 months ago


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