Growing up I was not that much into makeup. First, I had no dolls. I did not dress up any dolls. I did not put makeup on dolls. Second, I had seen so many women in my neighborhood growung up with potmarks on their faces that I attributed to overuse of makeup. Thus, I told myself I would resist the lure of makeup. It was my odd way of being subversive. I don’t even know what I was really thinking about. Third, I had no idea how to apply makeup. Thus, I didn’t bother. I suppose now there are 100s, not hundreds of thousands of YouTube makeup tutorials. You get it. Makeup wasn’t my thing.
Fast forward to today. My bathroom has a whole closet filled with makeup. I sometimes ask myself how I got here and I have no real explanation. It is a state of being that I slowly have been inching towards. I love eye shadow. That’s my thing. I love eyeliner. That’s my other thing. I think I like the dramatic. That’s the look I seem to be going for these days. I suppose I do some media interviews, public presentations, and am constantly going out to business meetings. My whole persona, including my face, is part of my business strategy. There’s the rub. That’s how I got to this point in time in my makeup relationship.
While I was laid up with the flu, I watched a documentary episode on Netflix about counterfeit makeup. Apparently, it is a thriving international business. One of the big markets for counterfeit makeup is this particular market in Los Angeles that I discovered months before moving back to New York. Somehow, I naively never noticed that the makeup they sold there was counterfeit. I can’t remember buying any makeup there as I tend to buy my makeup at Sephora or Mac. But the documentary made me a bit scared of all that counterfeit makeup. Apparently, much of it contains high levels of bacteria, human waste, and animal feces. Yuck. As I was watching the documentary I kept asking myself (in my flu induced delirium) why would anyone want fake makeup?
I don’t get it. As a New Yorker I get why people buy fake Rolexes and Gucci handbags. The label gives off an air and makes a statement, for better or worse. However, the makeup you put on your face doesn’t have embossed the brand name. Who would know whether your makeup is high a particular brand. I may be overthinking this. I’m still sick. However, I will stay away as best I can from putting feces on my face.