The secret behind that French ‘au naturel’ look . . .

MY Run-uP to easter was spent in gay Paris, marching about museums and stuffing myself with mille-feuilles.

Beauty-wise, the French are known for their outstanding, midprice pharmacy brands, available at the chemists which appear on every corner (there are 33 pharmacies per 100,000 people).

I adore nuxe, Vichy, Bioderma, Caudalie and La Roche-Posay, while a tube of Avene’s best-selling Tolerance Control Soothing Skin Recovery Cream (£14, boots.com) and its extremely Gentle Cleanser (£9.60) saved me when my skin started peeling off in the snow and wind. Paris in the spring, eh?

When not losing myself in art, I spent my time gazing at the city’s womenfolk. It’s true, Parisian women are a breed apart.

Toned, (lightly) tanned, tasteful — their low-key grooming is as much a part of the Parisian uniform as the big coat/trainers/posh bag formula featured on the Instagram account Parisiens in Paris.

Do not be deceived by the air of insouciance. These women spend a vast amount of time and money on their appearance — they’re just damned if they will let us know it.

Watch the scene in netflix’s Call My Agent! in which Camille Cottin’s Andrea Martel prepares for the arrival of her love interest by creating an immaculate no-make-up make-up look to give the impression that she emerged from bed a goddess.

Seek out the Vogue YouTube videos by It girls Camille Rowe and Jeanne Damas, if you don’t believe me. Or consult make-up artist Ali Andreea demonstrating the bouche mordue (bitten lip) trend. All are obsessed with embracing so-called ‘imperfections’, opting for concealer rather than a base; unfilled brows; and dewy, rather than powdered, skin.

enormous pains are taken to concoct a supposedly natural look — Rowe even adds faux sunburn to her scrupulously SPF-ed complexion, then uses a baseball cap to style her wet hair. The ultimate compliment is others assuming you’ve done nothing.

At first, I did tone down my trademark, lunatically over-thetop pink blush in favour of a more neutral cream rouge such as & Other Stories Cheek & Lip Tint in Swayback Plum (£8, stories. com). I put away Zara’s Ace (£11.99, zara.com), the excellent, matte Schiaparelli pink lipstick I had arrived in, and replaced it with Clinique’s Chubby Stick Intense Moisturizing Lip Colour Balm in Voluptuous Violet (£18.50, clinique.co.uk).

And I bulk-bought my beloved klorane Daily Dry Shampoo With Oat Milk (£9.99, boots.com) for a spot of relaxed oomph. not only does it allay any trace of limp roots, it also adds texture, especially for natural curls. Come cocktail hour, I deployed a darker, if suitably ‘mordue’, blotted lipstick: my trusty Matte Revolution in Festival Magic by Charlotte Tilbury (£26, charlotte tilbury.com). But I was the only one. even by night, French femmes do stealth slap. After a couple of days, I staged a rosbif revolution. All this scrupulous good taste felt dull, drab — metaphorically and literally colourless. I want life to be joyous, not correct; to be amused, not smug, and creative rather than conformist. My sentiments were confirmed by a trip to the Byredo counter in the Galeries Lafayette department store.

The perfumer has a line of cosmetics created with British make-up artist Isamaya Ffrench, queen of all things spectacular.

The signature product is the Colour Stick: 22 multi-purpose, richly pigmented crayons, in shades ranging from soft coral and electric blue to satsuma and iridescent khaki. The aim: to eschew anything remotely conventional and unleash playful, expressive colour.

I inquired about what shades were selling, and the charming chap on the counter indicated the closest approximation to beige.

To make him — and me — feel better, I invested in Purple Stinger (£28, selfridges.com), a hyacinth blue that works as a cracking contour, eye, blush and lip shade, and a staggeringly awesome lipstick called China Plum (£37).

I followed up with equally explosive trips to beauty boutique Sephora and budget-beauty purveyor Hema, and, reader, je ne regrette rien.