keeping it minimal

My style efforts of late are not much to speak of. The coldest days of the year are upon us here in the northeast, and staying warm is the prime directive. But look! I put on some false eyelashes. Short individuals. It’s hard to see on camera but they make an incredible difference in person. For one they are dark, and my lashes, while healthy enough, are pale, and don’t announce themselves. They are nice but, you know, no one is writing sonnets about them.* I can see why people speak of becoming addicted to false lashes. The effect, even of short, modest ones with only one coat of brown mascara, is, basically: BOOM.

*Not one sonnet. It strikes me I hardly know any of the right people in this life.

Eyelashes, those quintessentially female attributes, shorthand for femaleness in all manner of cartoony contexts. As everyone knows, though, full, heavy lashes are appealing on absolutely everyone, at every age. I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to be very interested in mine, though I suppose there’s no logic behind what does interest me, either. Sometimes I learn that I can make some moderate effort to achieve a pleasing effect and I’m delighted, and adopt it immediately, and sometimes I am untouched. Eyelashes are like that for me. I amp them up as a novelty now and then and I like how it looks, think it looks better in a sense, even…but evidently do not care about looking better in that sense. Like when you have some power at your disposal and it is the possession of the power that matters, not the wielding of it.

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J Crew cashmere hat, Old Navy sweater

Most days my face is something like this. Probably a bit more boring than this, even. Or a lot more boring, though maybe you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference…who can say with faces. This is the Glossier face tint, which I like very well so far, high in silicone so it feels like a primer, extremely sheer but really the closest I’ve seen to something undetectable on the skin. Reminds me in texture of Armani Luminous Silk foundation. It doesn’t cover much (not sure how buildable yet) but that is rarely my intention anyway. What I want from a foundation product, if anything, is a gentle evening of skin tone without some dreadful sacrifice of skin-like texture.

On the cheeks my favorite, favorite blush of the moment, Tarte cheek stain in Natural Beauty, a deep rosy color that does look natural on me, about like the color my cheeks actually turn in the cold. Also undetectable if I’ve done a good job, which if I take more than 8 seconds I usually do. Fewer and the results are sometimes questionable.

CoverGirl Clump Crusher mascara, which liking as well despite the plasticky/silicone wand (these I typically do not enjoy). MAC Fanfare lipstick, which so glad I picked up recently! A faultless nude pink that isn’t too pale, like so many popular nude pinks are on me. It’s one of the colors my lips often simply are, one of their more flushed shades…they have many shades, depending on humidity and hydration levels, blood flow, etc. All nice, it should be said. All just what they should be. But a girl likes to have options.

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Isn’t winter exhausting? I seem busy (working), cold, and so tired all of the time. I am not dull, but I can appear so in such conditions.

Innocent winter, so little deserving of blame here.

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getting cozy

It’s getting cold here, time for the serious sweaters. This cozy Donegal wool sweater with its simple, speckled design was a great find in the men’s section of J Crew. Another fisherman’s sweater.

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I love these colors. It’s rare to see a mix of grey and brown done well.

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Sometimes  simple clothes can provide a clean frame for a complex face, I mean a distractingly made up face, but sometimes simple clothes call for a simple face.

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It’s strange the extent to which thinking about my identity is equivalent to, parallel to thinking about my face. Or not strange, rather a combination of natural, the face being how we identify one another, being the feature that evolves with us, and arbitrary, the face being one of many, many things we do not choose about ourselves. Strange that it is what everyone sees but means nothing, in a way. Serves only to identify, and it’s not so simple to pin down just what it is identifying.

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9-10mm metallic freshwater pearl studs from Pearl Paradise

My own face gives me so much grief, its troublesome skin. And maybe it’s on account of eating so many sesame bagels lately but it seems especially round, like its childself. To you it looks always the same, perhaps, but to me it has so many moods. Looks so different depending on the angle. Is at times inexplicably (or perhaps totally explicably) unpleasant, ghastly, at times unexpectedly fine and radiant. Now irritates me with some quirk or asymmetry, now charms me with another. Is of endless interest to me, for good or ill.

It feels like it is mine, which I will say for it. It feels like a reflection of me…or part of me, as it can be deceptive as well. I wonder how much I am a reflection of it, rather than the other way around. Like names, faces can shape destinies.

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This ultra natural look is Tarte cheek stain in Blissful (love), MAC Nude on Board ProLongwear Bronzing Powder (I really like this, LE but findable), Clarins Instant Light Natural Lip Perfector, and the teensiest lashing of mascara. This is how I look most days, with my hair in a 10 second bun, or some harried version of this.

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Stay warm.

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