Nadine Higgins
Why I’m ditching the war paint
Beware, little boys and girls, here comes Pennywise the flesh-feeding dancing clown from It. In reality Connor O’Brien was one of the thousands of pop culture fans who descended on Westpac Stadium, Wellington as the venue hosted the Armageddon expo. Top of the bill was Hollywood A-lister Jeremy Renner, but as usual, the cosplaying fans were stars in their own right. Armageddon wraps up today. Photo by Monique Ford.
Spending your twenties on the television does a funny thing to your selfimage.
Once enough people tell you, ‘‘Wow, you look SO different to how you do on the TV!’’, you come to the conclusion that what they really mean is ‘‘worse’’.
The next conclusion I reached was I needed a protective layer of the beauty that comes from a bottle, just to make me comparable to the professionally coiffed version of me.
I’m no princess, but when I saw myself without it, I saw bags, I saw freckles – I saw flaws. Much to my chagrin, there are no Instagram filters in real life.
But this year, as work commitments got busier and busier, and busier still – makeup started falling by the wayside. A couple of days make-up free turned into weeks, then a month. Occasionally, I’d declare to my colleague, Natalie, that I must go put on some slap to go to a meeting. She’d look at me, nonplussed, and say: ‘‘I didn’t realise you didn’t have any on’’.
I mentioned to my mates that I’d ditched makeup – they hadn’t noticed, either. I asked my husband, he said ‘‘I love you natural’’, but he’s supposed to say that, right?
Google ‘‘going makeup free’’ and the internet will give you a million ways to do it – with the help of a series of expensive procedures, available from your friendly neighbourhood beautician.
Nowhere does it say, like, rock what you got, girlfriend.
You’ll also find an almost unrecognisable image of a beautiful, childlike Christina Aguilera, who this week posed for the cover of a magazine sans her usual OTT war paint. I couldn’t help but think – well, it’s alright for you, you have access to the best surgeons and skincare regimes in the world.
But maybe it’s OK for me, too.
For a start it has given me SO. MUCH. MORE. TIME. No putting it on, no taking it off. Going for a run at lunchtime? No worries.
It also appeals to the feminist in me. How many men ever worry about things like whether their eyeliner is wonky because they did it in a rush? I’m not about to grow out my armpits, but I appreciate the freedom.
It can still be a bit confronting when I flick open my phone to take a photo, only to find the camera facing me instead and reflecting back a rather undignified shot up my nose as I squint down at the screen.
A few weeks ago, I told you it’s OK to bare your backside. I guess now I’m encouraging you to embrace baring your bare face.
I’ll still doll myself up when the mood takes me, I’ll still take pride in my appearance and I’ll still buy over-priced creams to ‘‘fight the signs of aging’’. But I’m going to bare my face more often.
I’m not letting myself go, I’m just letting myself be.
A few weeks ago, I told you it’s OK to bare your backside. I guess now I’m encouraging you to embrace baring your bare face.