On a lighter subject than my last post, I have discovered the best thing ever. Seriously.
I have discovered LIPSTICK, specifically RED LIPSTICK and the bad-assery that comes with it.
Until yesterday I didn’t wear lip colour. The only time lipstick graced my lips was for competitions when I was still a competitive dancer. It added to my already slathered on make-up to complete the semi-scary clown look that stage make-up always goes for. I wasn’t too friendly to the idea of any sort of lipstick after this. Lately though, I’ve felt as though my make-up routine was missing something. It was missing the oomph needed to transform my face from pretty to PRETTY BAD-ASS. (See what I did there?)
Zineb and I rocking the rouge.
I was with my closest friend Zineb (a red-lipstick veteran) yesterday and I found myself being pulled towards Sephora like a huge beauty blackhole. Sephora is a dangerous place for me. I am only four dollars away from their HIGHEST Beauty Insider level. Translate to: I spend too much money on make-up. I went inside on the search for something new and it came to me: I need lipstick!
The sales associate first brought my a glossy lipstick similar to my skin colour. It was cool but too familiar, too normal. She brought me a beautiful burgundy/plum colour. I loved it, very goth-lite. BUT THEN, she brought Sephora’s own brand lipstick in Pure Red and I fell in LOVE. I kept it on the rest of the day and I am wearing it today too.
What is it about red lipstick that’s so great? I don’t know. I feel sexy and rebellious and edgy. It’s a super-cool feeling. I just want to strut down the street like it’s a cat-walk. My already inflated ego has swollen to impossible proportions because I just love this damn lipstick.
If you haven’t tried red lipstick, DO IT NOW.
Awkwardly trying to take a selfie on my macbook in a coffee bar.
As I began to get ready today I had a two-second moment of panic. I could not find my Make Up For Ever HD High Definition Primer. After the brief moment where my heart stopped, I found it under my boyfriend’s hat. I laughed at myself for getting to momentarily worried over primer. Who knows what would happen if I misplaced my foundation. I smirked a bit to myself and mentally called myself “such a girl” as if that was a bad thing.
I have been super girly all of my life. I only wanted to wear dresses when i was younger and my favourite colour has always been pink (except for grade 3 I think when all I wanted to wear was turquoise, weird year for me.) I get distracted when I see anything glittery, my nails are always done, and I’ve amassed a sizeable make-up collection. As I write this, I am wearing pink polkadot socks with cats on them. For some bizarre reason though, I feel slightly ashamed of my glaring female-ness. As if somehow there is something wrong with being a girly girl.
Why is this?
I think part of it has to do with identifying as a feminist. I have read countless posts on various fairly feminist websites (xojane, bitchtopia etc.) about the inner struggle women have around wearing make-up whilst being a feminist. It is generally accepted that women’s beauty has been a tool for the repression of women in our society. For anyone who is familiar with The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf (if you aren’t familiar, go read it NOW), she explains this concept quite convincingly. For me to wear make-up and behave according to the societal norm for women’s look, it feels like I’m being complacent with the “beauty myth” (go read the book.)
Another reason I struggle with being a girly girl is because I am told (by society and by peers) that I am too girly. Funny enough, girls who dress more like tomboys are told that they are not girly enough. What is the perfect level of girly-ness? I think I am right in ascertaining that there isn’t one. No matter what, I will be told I am too this or too that. While I am incredibly girly, I will always be told I am too girly. Welcome to being part of the female gender.
One of the biggest issues I encounter with being more “feminine” (wtf is femininity supposed to look like anyways?) is that people assume I’m less intelligent. Yes I carry a huge purse to school instead of a backpack, and yes my pencil case is pink, no I am not dumb. I do really well in school, I excel at writing essays, and I read historical non-fiction for fun. I will debate with anyone about anything and usually I win using logic, relentlessness, and an aptitude for sounding convincing coupled with whatever information on the subject I have access to. Sadly, people often exclaim they are surprised I am so smart or knowledgeable or whatever.
Join me soon (sorry for sounding like a talk show host) for my next post in this series on sexual assault.