This is a true story. Once upon a time, there was a girl: a lost, little girl, adrift in a world of vice and vanity in which no acquisition could satisfy her thirst. Yes, this girl, who was once innocent as a newborn babe or a post-trial O.J. Simpson, was an addict. This girl was me.
There was never any glamour to it. My vice lacked the sweaty sophistication of gambling or the rugged charm of crystal meth, but it had me writhing in its clutches nonetheless. My addiction was to makeup tutorials. Youtube Makeup Tutorials. It started out innocently enough – at that time I didn’t even know the difference between pastels and neutrals – I thought I might “try something with my hair.” Trembling, my lily white hands, which were not yet red and chaffed from Palmolive and nail polish remover, punched in the letters that would seal my fate: W-W-W-DOT-Y-O-U-T-U… I found myself in a seedy world of vlogs and cute animal tricks. There were more than enough “pushers” to supply me with my fix of hairspray and bobby pins. “This look takes so little time,” they cooed, “Try it!” And I did.
Addiction – I laughed at the idea. I was never a “girly girl” so it couldn’t happen to me. I convinced myself I was only experimenting as I stared into ghoulish teenage faces, hidden under layers of greasepaint. So I laughed. I laughed as I mastered French twist after French twist.
It was no time before I left hair tutorials for the heavier shit: makeup tutorials. Now I was doing it almost everyday, using it to escape the banality of my life: breaks during essay writing, something to get me through breakfast, a way to take the edge of before bed – they were all excuses for me. It stopped being about “How to get the perfect red lip” and became “I need that fucking red lip right now or, I swear to God, I will cut you!”
Everyone warned me. They eyed me as I walked past them, a layer of Revlon Foundation (Sunkissed Sunrise 45) covering my sallow cheeks and sunken eyes – and whispered: “she’s, you know, a base(coat)head.” And they were right. Bases, blotters, (lip)Smack(ers): I wanted it all. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in some unknown alley with Maybelline Coral 43 smeared over my face and my lungs half filled with matte powder was a regular occurrence.
By that time, there was no one left to help me. I’d pushed those that were close to me away. My friends didn’t wear makeup. Sure, come of them would wear eyeliner socially, at a party or something, but no one made a habit of it. Once I had alienated them, who else was left? Society? Society doesn’t want to deal with the painted lady selling herself for a couple bucks to buy new concealer, the pathological plucker who lost an eyebrow in an attempt at symmetrically, or the glitter-junkie railing MAC Pink Paradise off a hooker’s back. But we see you society, we see right through you and that crease shadow that you’ve been using as a highlight all these years.
Don’t think it can’t happen to you. Don’t think that you can’t be taken in by a bunch of 17 year olds with webcams, mellifluously cadenced voices and vanity tables packed with cheap and thrilling supplies. After all, it happened to me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a friend to watch; MAC just released their Autumn Shadow Collection.
~ Jordana Globerman
