London Muse Make-Up School

By Laurin
 

So, who likes make-up? Everyone? Excellent, good to know. I’ve always liked make-up, ever since my mother begrudgingly allowed me to start wearing eyeshadow when I was 12 years old because MELINDA’S MOM LETS HER WEAR PINK EYESHADOW AND I’M NOT A BABY ANYMORE *exits stage left slamming door, sobs are heard from offstage for next three hours*.

Like many women my age, I’ve been adorning my face on a near-daily basis for over twenty years. I read about make-up in magazines, talk to other women about it on the Internet and even blog about it. I like make-up pretty well. Or so I thought. Last Monday, for a variety of personal reasons and no reasons whatsoever, I took myself off to the foundation course at London MUSE Make-Up School near Leicester Square.

My main considerations when searching for a course earlier this year were as follows:

1. Will I have time to do this? I work six days a week, so getting time off to do a month-long course or an entire term was not an option.
2. Can I afford it? I had been advised that I should expect to pay at least £1,000 for a week of training.
3. Is it a good school? This should have been my first consideration, but honestly, if I didn’t have the time and couldn’t afford it, it wasn’t happening.

The main courses at London Muse are run as week-long courses, although you can do the Foundation and Advanced certificates in make-up in two weeks back-to-back. I decided to do the Foundation course on its own because I knew I could get a week’s holiday and because I could afford it. The six day foundation course costs £1,200, although there is a 10% discount if you pay the full course fee up front, or you can pay in instalments. Finally (should have been “firstly”), several of the posters on the Sali Hughes Beauty Forum recommended the school, but our very own Luke sealed the deal when he told me that as a working make-up artist, he’s always impressed by the quality of work he sees from graduates of London Muse, even the ones who have only been on short courses. I paid my money, I took my choice.

Before arriving, I knew very little about Nicci Jackson, aside from the fact that she was a make-up artist herself, and she runs the school. I think I assumed that training sessions would be run by course tutors, and we might see Nicci once or twice. I was very wrong about this. Aside from our very last day, Nicci taught every syllabus herself and spent the afternoon sessions monitoring and mentoring our practical sessions with the help of her lovely and kind assistant Josie.

There were six of us on the course initially, five women and two men. We were a more diverse bunch than I expected, from a young South London hairdresser to a youth worker and mother-of-three from West London. We were joined on the Thursday by a woman who’d flown over from Egypt to attend the school. Only one of us had any previous make-up training, and we all had different ideas about how we’d use our knowledge when we’d finished. I thought perhaps I was a bit old to be on the course at thirty-five, but not only was one of my fellow students the same age, but Nicci assured me that she’d had plenty of more mature students on her courses in the past.

My third attempt at smoky eyes. I got told off for my “dolly cheeks”, which I slapped on at the last minute before time ran out. It is better to have no blusher than a sloppy application

Each day had the same structure: in the morning, Nicci took us through theory of a particular topic, demonstrating on Josie or one of us, and after lunch we were let loose to practice on each other, with Nicci and Josie watching and correcting. The six day syllabus touches on everything from facial geometry and contouring to kit hygiene and safe working practices to eyeliner effects, but the topics we spent the most time practising were base application and colour correction and smoky eye effects. As it turned out, everything I’d ever learned about “cool” and “warm” skin tones was completely incorrect, and it took me a couple of days to wrap my head around the correct colour terminologies and how to apply it to various skin tones. We also spent two days working on smoky eyes because as it turned out, not one of us could get it right on the first try.

Above: Nicci’s lip correction demonstration on me.

I’m not telling you much you couldn’t get from reading the syllabus on the website, so if you’re still unsure, here are a few things they don’t tell you:

1. Nicci Jackson does not bullshit or mollycoddle her students. When you get it wrong, she tells you, immediately. And then she very patiently shows you your mistake and makes you do it again. She absolutely gives praise where it is due, but if you want someone to stroke your ego and coo over the bizarre red and orange colour scheme you chose to deliver for your smoky eye brief because you liked the idea of an “urban acid sunset”, go elsewhere. This is a place to abandon everything you thought you knew and start from the ground up. It’s frustrating at times, but it’s also exhilarating.
2. On that note, whatever you’ve seen on YouTube is not a substitute for proper instruction from a working professional if you want to call yourself a make-up artist. The best way to learn is from true professionals who practice their craft every day.
3. The course does not finish after six days unless you want it to. Students are always welcome to come back and re-sit any day if they feel they need more instruction or practice. Free of charge. On the day that we all failed to deliver smoky eyes, we were invited to stay on for the evening foundation course and try again. We all did, and we nailed it the next day. Several of the students on my course are planning to go back this Wednesday evening for additional instruction. Free of charge.
4. The course runs from 10:30 to 5:30 each day, which doesn’t sound like too much of a stretch if you work regular hours, but you will be exhausted at the end of each day. If you can, don’t plan to go out in the evening while you’re on the course. Go home, have something to eat and go to bed. You will need all your energy and mental reserves for class. By the time I got home on Wednesday night, I was so tired that I forgot how to operate a perfume bottle.
5. The studio is on the fourth floor of a building with no lift, so you will have nice thighs by the end of the week.
6. If you thought make-up was a doddle, or had any doubts that it is a serious art and a highly technical craft, you will think differently by the end of the course. I have more respect for true make-up artists now than ever.
7. Get used to working under pressure. Your practical sessions will be timed from Day 1. I found this frustrating and stressful at times, but this is how real artists have to work in a professional environment.
8. If you don’t know, ASK. Help is always available during practical sessions, and I learned the best lessons by being told what I was doing was completely wrong and being shown the correct way.
9. You will want to own ALL the Illamasqua and MAC by Day 3.
10. You will want to go back. Three of the students from my group had already signed up for the next course when they started, and the rest of us spent the last few days discussing when and how we could get onto the advanced course ourselves.

Above: My final application on my lovely fellow student Krisztina

All in all, it was a brilliant, exhausting, maddening and completely exhilarating week and I’ve never been more in love with make-up artistry than I am at this moment. Do it. You won’t regret it.

The fine print: Laurin Attended Muse at her own expense - this is not a sponsored post.

This post: London Muse Make-Up School originated at: Get Lippie All rights reserved. If you are not reading this post at Get Lippie, then this content has been stolen by a scraper

A Lippie Team Post - Skincare Routines

We're planning a number of these group posts, but we thought we'd start with the basics, so here's how the whole team at Get Lippie looks after their skin:

LOUISE (aka "Get Lippie")

My skincare routine has been kind of fixed for a while now – to the extent that one of the products is running out and I'm upset because current circumstances dictate that I can't afford to replace it at the moment, and panic is ensuing … anyhoo, here's the lowdown:

Cleanse: I'm still in love with Champneys cleansing balm. It's on the cheap and cheerful side (and the instructions are rubbish), but it gets the job done, and my skin loves it.

Treatments: I'm currently alternating between Pixi Glow Tonic and my old standby; Clarins Gentle exfoliating toner, (having temporarily run out of Zelens resurfacing pads) both of which are second to none at removing dead skin cells. I follow both of these with a quick spritz of La Roche Posay Serozinc spray, which I'm still miffed they won't bring to the UK.

Serums: Currently I'm using Sunday Riley's Juno Hydroactive Cellular Face Oil, which smells like a rancid spag bol according to my husband, but this is because it doesn't contain any scented essential oils to mask the smell of the seeds they've crushed into it. As essential oils are one of my sensitive skin triggers, this suits my skin very well indeed and I put up with the rather … unusual … scent. As always, I follow this up with a thin layer of Hydraluron.

Moisturiser: And here is where I cry, just a little bit. Sometimes I get press releases that are so bonkers that I have to call in the product, just to see how far from the point the the copy actually got. Such as it is with Argentum Apothecary La Potion Infinie. The flowery, overblown, overwritten, overpretentious prose on both the press release and, sadly, the website, mask what is, in fact, a bloody excellent moisturiser. I wasn't too impressed with it at first, but my love for it has grown by leaps and bounds over the last six months or so, to the point where I can now see the bottom of the jar, and my heart cries every time I see it. I've been known to panic about it running out. I'm sad, I know. However, formulated with colloidial silver, and featuring a really nice primer-style matte finish on the skin, this suits my fussy, sensitive, easily reddened skin very well, and as it's £147 a jar, I'm going to miss it a great deal once I do finally scrape out that final molecule from the jar. It's brilliant, but the website will give you a headache, I warn you.  It's the only moisturiser I've tried in years that's come even close to replacing my beloved Kate Somerville Goat Cream, and that is really saying something.  Once I'm back in funds, a repurchase will definitely follow.

LAURIN

My skincare routine is a many headed hydra, with one product being culled and another two springing up in its place. The one constant, however, is my DHC Deep Cleansing Oil. I've used this for nearly five years, and I've yet to find anything better. In the morning, it's a drop of DHC and a quick swipe with a flannel before I hit the shower.  As soon as I hop out, I slap on Superdrug Aqua Pure Hydrating Serum, followed by Clinique Moisture Surge on my face and Clinique Superdefense Eye Cream all around my eyes. I've finally been converted to the cause of a daily SPF, so I finish with a layer of Soap and Glory Make Yourself Youthful Sunshield Superfluid.

Night time gets a bit trickier. The minute I get home, I take off my make-up with whichever version of Bioderma Micellar Water I bought on special last, then it's a full cleanse with the DHC and a hot cloth. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I use Clarins Gentle Exfoliating Toner and on Sundays I use Alpha-H Liquid Gold. Whatever the day, then use Estee Lauder Advanced Night Repair and Kiehl's Creamy Avocado Eye Treatment. The last thing I do before I go to bed is massage in a few drops of Kiehl's Midnight Recovery Concentrate.

With all the money I'm literally sinking into it, it's a good thing beauty lasts forever, and I can use my face as my pension. Right? RIGHT?

TINDARA

I may be shunned by the rest of the Get Lippie team after saying this, but, I’m a bit lax with my moisturising at night. Four nights out of seven my head will hit the pillow cleansed with Bioderma Hydrabio H2O Micelle stuff but unmoisturised. I love the clean face feeling, and I sleep with a CPAP mask on, as I have sleep apnoea, so no gunk on my face makes it more comfortable. Honest.

Those other three nights though, I really go for it, I hot cloth cleanse with Skyn Pure Cloud Cleanser or Boots Botanics Ultra Calm Gentle Cleansing Cream and then use Elizabeth Arden Prevage Serum and Eye Serum – they really work! – followed by Clarins Blue Orchid Face Oil, and sometimes more night cream or balm on top. Depending on my skin and/or the time of year this might be Waitrose Baby Bottom Butter or this Est Rose and Honey Remedy from Australia. It’s really soothing and healing, and I love the Lavender and Tea Tree version too. It feels just the right level of comforting and medicinal.

If it’s warm, I might leave it at the Clarins or put a little of my day moisturiser on top instead, currently that’s Skyn Pure Cloud Cream, but this changes all the time. Then some lip balm. I’m using Hurraw or Clinique lip balms at the moment. In the morning I use Organic Surge Daily Care Face Wash in the shower, and I swap the Prevage for Eucerin Hyaluron Filler Concentrate.

Most of the time, my sensitive rosacea prone skin behaves itself, but if it doesn’t I dial it right back and just use Bioderma micelle cleanser and day moisturiser and maybe one of the Est balms occasionally. 

When I remember, I throw a bit of Elemis Papaya Enzyme Cream on followed by a hydrating mask of some description, I’m not loyal to any in particular, my last was a Decleor Hydra Floral mask. Any recommendations?

LUKE

Cleanse: I generally flit between these two depending on mood and what my skin feels like that morning/evening. I ADORE the Elemis Pro Collagen Cleansing Balm. The smell, the texture, the way my skin feels afterwards, the all of it is just fantastic. Not heavy at all (some are) and just an absolute pleasure to use. This is ALWAYS in my kit, purely because every single person I use this on falls in love with it. For the odd time when I think my skin feels a little dull, and needs a bloody good scrub, the Dermalogica Daily Microfoliant is ABSOLUTELY SECOND TO NONE! Did I make that clear? This is one of the BEST products for exfoliating that I have EVER used. It says daily, however I find it a little too abrasive for daily use. Once or twice a week is absolutely enough for me.

Treatments/Serums I use a lot of these. Especially at the moment with all the fake tan I am trialling, but ANYWAY, these are the ones that if I had to choose, would be the ones that pretty much cover all bases. The Clinique Laser Focus Repairwear Serum, recently reformulated, is now even better than it was the first time round. And they have improved the packaging so that you don’t end up with the drips all collecting around the edge. I use this pretty much all summer, or when the sun is out as a sort of insurance. I like the silky feel, and it seems to make my skin feel hydrated also.

Day Creams I am quite picky about my day creams. I always want a good SPF in my day cream, as I have said before. One of these has a high SPF of 30 already ‘built in’ and the other doesn’t have one, but I add one over the top. La Prairie Anti-Ageing Day Cream SPF30 is one that I will use literally every day when the sun is strong, hence why this is nearly at the bottom of the jar at this point. It smells pleasant, and has a micro blasted SPF that is so fine and non skin clogging that it’s a joy to use. I have never caught too much of the sun with this on, and it still managed to not dry my skin out either. The space age silver packaging and heavy glass make it not great for travelling with, but my, what a cream. Not cheap, but not out there expensive either.

Night cream: Finally, the night time. I am of the school of thought that if it’s a moisturiser, it’s good enough. Most of the time a good moisturiser would be perfectly adequate for a night cream I would think, but nonetheless, I am still using these like they are going out of fashion. Neal’s Yard Beauty Sleep Concentrate has been a favourite for a long while. The multi award winning cream contains all sorts of goodies in it hat help to regenerate the skin, and has essential oils that are known to relax you and gently send you off into the land of nod. Me being somewhat of an insomniac, every little helps. It’s a very light lotion type texture, but seems to be nourishing enough, and a little really does go a long way.

 

This post: A Lippie Team Post - Skincare Routines originated at: Get Lippie All rights reserved. If you are not reading this post at Get Lippie, then this content has been stolen by a scraper

The Reluctant Lippie. Part Two: Pinks

  

By Laurin

A few of the more pressing topics that have been on my mind this week include:  

1. Why do my jeans smell like barnyard dust even though I washed them two days ago?
2. Have my knickers been on inside-out all day? (Turns out yes, yes they have.)
3. Oh hey, is that the guy I dated briefly last year who was in the open relationship and his girlfriend had a girlfriend? (Turns out no, because that guy over there is weirdly sweaty and has a  strange mole on the side of his  face, but I didn't realise that until AFTER I smiled and waved, so maybe quick exit.)
4. Why  do  we  call  pink  lipsticks  pink  instead  of  nude,  because  I'm  pretty  sure  my  lips ARE actually pink when they're nude, AMIRITE?

Above: Clinique All Heart, Kate Moss 05, Tom Ford Incorrigible, NARS Schiap

I  still  have  no  answer  for  the  last  one.  As  it  turns  out,  in  the  absence  of  a  colour  wheel  or some hot, hot SCIENCE, we call them pink and not nude BECAUSE WE JUST DO. Also, it turns out that I don't much care. Really though, pink probably should  have been my first stop on my  lipstick  tour:  it  was  the  first  colour  I  played with  as  a  little  girl  from  my  grandmother's make-up bag, and  it's much easier to  find a  pretty, flattering shade without  risking looking like a zombie. Belatedly, then, here are a few I like.

Clinique All Heart Long Last Lipstick, £17 at Debenhams Studio 10 Age Reverse Perfecting Lipliner, £22 at http://www.studio10beauty.com

I've had a soft spot for Clinique gift with purchase lipsticks ever since I won one in a game of bingo at a nursing home when I was ten (the other prizes were socks or bath salts). My prize lipstick  felt  fancy  then,  and  it  still  does  a  tiny bit  today.  All  Heart  is  a  slightly  plummy  pink warmed up with barely-there gold sparkle that makes it perfect for adding a bit of oomph to a  neutral  make-up  look.  I’m  wearing  it  with  Studio 10  in  the  picture,  but  it  applies  just  as well from the tube in a hurry, and indeed, on the Tube in a hurry. The texture feels creamy and nourishing, and it lasts through at least three cups of tea before lunch. HOUSE!   

Kate Moss for Rimmel 05, £5.49 at Superdrug

Anyone who refuses to shop for cosmetics and perfume on the high street out of misplaced snobbery is denying themselves a serious small pleasure. Cheap makeup is the business, and it's hard to beat the thrill of chucking a bright lipstick in the basket with your shampoo and hand cream. This is a girly (but not sugary) pink that I can imagine your Girl Next Door would wear  on  prom  night.  It  looks  great  with  flushed  cheeks  and  a  hint  of  mascara.  Also:  IT SMELLS OF CHERRIES. What could be more joyful?

  Tom Ford Incorrigible, £34 at Selfridges  Halfway  between  a  full  on  lipstick  and  a  gloss,  so somewhat  naughty  of  Tom  Ford  to demand the full whack of £34. On the other hand, this sheer fuchsia veil with just a dusting of warm golden  sparkle is perfect bridge between the "My Lips But Better" milkmaid  pinks and the full-on BRING IT bright end of the spectrum. Unlike a fuller-coverage bright lipstick, this is easy to apply without a lipliner and a brush, and as a result it’s barely left my handbag since I bought it.   

 NARS Schiap, £19.50 at Space NK  I had a consultation with Sali Hughes last month and she sold me on it as the perfect "fuck you" lipstick. "It suits no one," she assured me. The name of this full-coverage, satin finish lipstick references the legendary fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli, who used shocking pink as one of her signature colours. It does not suit me. It will not suit you. But you should buy it (and a good lipbrush – colour like this demands precision application) anyway. I wore it last week  with  a  flowing  black  skirt  and  Jovoy’s Psychédélique,  a  fragrance  so  patchouli-heavy that  my  friend  Angelica  once  described  it  as  “like being  trapped  in  a  phonebox  with  a hippie.” None  of these things suit me, and I spent most of the day  feeling as though I was having an out-of-body experience. Unless you are one of those rare souls who knows exactly who  they  are,  I  believe  we  all  have  something  to  gain  by  trying  on  (as  it  were)  different identities, discarding the parts that don’t feel right and incorporating the ones that do into our  own  personal  patchwork.  I  will  never  feel  comfortable  with  wearing  neon  pink  lipstick every day, but on days when I have a bone to pick with the world, I will wear it with Bvlgari Black and sneer. I will take no prisoners.    The fine print: Purchases and PR samples.

  

This post: originated at: Get Lippie All rights reserved. If you are not reading this post at Get Lippie, then this content has been stolen by a scraper

Max Factor Clump Defy Mascara

By Laurin

My favourite mascara ever is any mascara I’ve been using for about six weeks. The purchase of a new make-up item brings with it a flutter of excitement in my stomach, and yet my heart never fails to sink when I open a new tube of mascara. Why? Because I know I’m about to spend five god-damned minutes that I don’t even have wiping the brush unless I want to arrive in my office looking like the victim of an unfortunate tarantula attack on the Victoria Line. It takes me about a month of jiggery-pokery and wand acrobatics to use up enough product for a perfect application straight from the tube, only to find one morning four weeks later that it’s magically fused into a solid lump of black gunk overnight. Ain’t nobody got time for that. 

These are not cheap products. At the time of writing, I estimate that I have at least £100 of unsatisfactory mascaras in my make-up drawer, all paid for with money I earned myself. Current rejects include Bobbi Brown Extreme Party Mascara, Benefit They’re Real! (also: stop using tits to sell me eyelash paint), Estee Lauder Sumptuous Extreme and yes, Estee Lauder Double Wear, which has singlehandedly ruined many a rocking smoky eye.

And yet, I dream. I dream of a day when I shall open a new tube of mascara, gently wave the wand across my eyes and gaze back in the mirror at my thick, fluttering, perfectly separated lashes. “Darling,” my husband Michael Fassbender calls from the next room, “do come back to bed and – “ Oh, are you still here? Hi!

Anyway. I am pleased to report that my dreams have come true (my mascara-related dreams, that is). I’d never heard of Max Factor Clump Defy until Superdrug re-launched it as part of a limited edition best sellers range to celebrate their 50^th anniversary. It is genuinely the best mascara I’ve ever tried, at any price point. The short, tightly-packed bristles (pictured below) means it comes out of the tube with exactly the right amount of product on it, which is to say, not very much at all.

As you can see, the brush is slightly curved, enabling it to cover more lashes in one sweep. Below, you can see my lashes with no mascara at all, and with one coat of Clump Defy (I’ve also used my Shu Uemera Eyelash Curlers before applying). 

I normally apply three coats of mascara, and you can see below the effects of two and three coats of Clump Defy. There isn’t a huge amount of difference, so you could probably skip the third coat.

If you hurry, you can pick up the limited edition dotty pink packaging, which I love because it makes finding this in my make-up bag a cinch. After all, the more time I save on my make-up routine, the longer I can spend in bed with my husband, Michael Fassbender.

Max Factor Clump Defy Mascara is available at Superdrug in limited edition packaging for £7.99 at the time of writing.

The Fine Print - PR Sample

This post: Max Factor Clump Defy Mascara originated at: Get Lippie All rights reserved. If you are not reading this post at Get Lippie, then this content has been stolen by a scraper

The Reluctant Lippie - Part One: Nudes

 By Laurin

Despite being born during the Carter Administration, I've never really considered myself a grown-up. Grown-ups don't buy their jewellery from H&M. They make well thought-out grocery lists on Saturday morning, and they have buildings insurance. They don't anguish over maudlin 90’s music about what they want to BE when they grow up, because that's what they already are.

I, on the other hand, have tried my hand at four different careers in the last ten years. Last week, I cried at work twice and played hopscotch on the carpet tiles too many times to count. I have no mortgage, no kids, no pets and no husband. And up until last year, I mostly made do with a slick of Benetint lip balm hastily applied as I rushed out of the house 15 minutes later than I'd planned. Did I mention that I'm 35?

One of my colleagues is a proper grown-up. She wears well-chosen pieces from Cos and Whistles and she compliments them with chunky, interesting accessories that she's often made herself. She wears lipstick. Real lipstick. I watch her reapply it before meetings and after lunch with the help of a MAC compact. I began to be taken with this small, public-yet-private ritual and the idea of a tangible and instant confidence boost. So I made a resolution that despite my serious lack of credentials in the Adult department, lipstick is something I can manage.

This series is my attempt to find my place in the world of lipstick that seems to come so easily to some of you, but has baffled me for the better part of 20 years. Please note that although the events that take place here are absolutely true, I have altered the order somewhat so that they follow some kind of logical progression. Just because I live my life on a wing and a prayer doesn’t mean you have to as well.

L-R: Laura Mercier Baby Lips, Revlon Just Bitten in Honey, Rimmel Apocalips in Celestial, Tom Ford Lip Colour in Pink Dusk

 Chapter 1: Nudes
 

L-R: Laura Mercier Baby Lips, Revlon Just Bitten in Honey, Rimmel Apocalips in Celestial, Tom Ford Lip Colour in Pink Dusk

The Lipsticks

Baby Lips

Laura Mercier Baby Lips Sheer Lip Colour, £17.50 at John Lewis

After making the decision to pull my socks up, I solicited the advice of my own hive-mind in the form of the Sali Hughes Beauty forum. Several of the women there recommended Laura Mercier’s Baby Lips and I dutifully purchased it during a lunch break. This turns out to be what is essentially a very grown-up lip gloss, albeit with more pigment and less gloopy shine. But it’s an excellent first foray into the world of real lip colour: the texture is soft, glossy and easy to apply without a lip brush, and the packaging dutifully obliges you in pretending that it’s a proper lipstick. It’s just a shade darker than my actual lips, so it’s great for giving my make-up a polished finished if I’m wearing heavy eye make-up. You’ll have to reapply it every couple of hours, but that’s a doddle.

Honey

 Revlon Just Bitten Kissable in Honey, £7.99 at Boots

 

The Boots website describes this Clinique Chubby Stick dupe as “a pampering balm fused with a lightweight lipstain”. Honestly, the word “pampering” is one of my least favourite in the English language (on the Galdis-Taylor Sick In My Mouth scale I just made up, it sits somewhere between “making love” and “gourmet” as a word I’d like to ban from use forever more) and I briefly consider stabbing myself in the eye with it instead of putting it on my mouth. The packaging also makes me a little sad. What’s the point of deciding to be a grown-up then raiding a toddler’s art supply box? On the other hand, if you can’t see the point of spending £20 on a level-up lipgloss, it’s a decent alternative to Baby Lips. It’s a touch sheerer and starts to fade the minute you even think about having a cup of tea, but so it goes. The pointy crayon tip makes it a cinch to apply, even without a mirror. As a bonus, Revlon have also infused the formula with a touch of mint flavour, so it quite literally feels like a breath of fresh air, especially if you’ve been snacking on chorizo at 2pm. Still, my feelings for this product have never risen above lukewarm, and it’s mostly been relegated to my over-the-door organiser with the rest of my rarely used cosmetics.

Celestial

 Rimmel Apocalips Lip Lacquer in Celestial, £6.49 at Superdrug

To infinity and beyond, this time with a quick stop at Superdrug to stock up on intergalactic cosmetic essentials. Apocalips is the halfway house between the easy application of gloss and the heavily pigmented coverage of real lipstick. Everyone I know went mad for these when they launched last year, and why not? They’re cheap and cheerful and a perfect treat to cheer you up on a drab Wednesday afternoon. I’m not in love, though. Although the coverage is great and the wand makes precision application pretty easy, the fluidity of the formula means it strays more than I’d like. And I cannot deny that when I see my ultra-shiny nude lips in the mirror, I immediately think of Katie Price and feel an urge to drape myself over the nearest Ferrari. Blotting solves the glamour model issue somewhat. The nicest thing about this is that it fades quite evenly, so avoiding the mid-morning “ring around the mouth” look. I think that this formula might be better suited to bolder colours, and my tube of Celestial mostly sits with my Just Bitten in the “Eh” pile.

Pink Dusk

Tom Ford Lip Colour in Pink Dusk, £36 at Selfridges

Oh, Tom Ford. We don’t always get along. I like your fragrances, but I think they’re derivative and over-priced. Your habit of appearing in your own marketing looking stern and disapproving has more than once made me back away from your counter, lest you spit on my mid-priced shoes. And I’m pretty sure Thom Yorke was referring to your army of swooning superfans when he sang, “When I am king, you will be first against the wall.” Or if he wasn’t, he should have been. But I’ll hold up my hands and say that you do make a bloody good lipstick.  But, at last, a proper lipstick. Aside from the eye-watering price tag, I love this. It’s non-drying, goes on like a dream, gives great coverage and smells like the inside of your grandmother’s handbag. It’s satisfyingly grown-up and I’d be pleased to apply this at my desk between meetings.

The Verdict:

 Laura Mercier Baby Lips wins by a hair. It’s a brilliant product to bridge the gap between gloss and a full-coverage lipstick, and it won’t break the bank.

The Fine Print: I bought these products with my own money, aside from the Tom Ford, which was nicked from Lippie Mansions.

This post: The Reluctant Lippie - Part One originated at: Get Lippie All rights reserved. If you are not reading this post at Get Lippie, then this content has been stolen by a scraper

Alien Eau Extraordinaire: If It Ain't Broke …

By Laurin

Oh, hey guys! It's the second weekend in March, and the temperature in London has finally risen over 15 degrees.  As the bearer of a British passport, I'm required by law to completely overreact to any glimpse of sunlight by baring eye-popping amounts of flesh and loudly announcing "SUMMER IS HERE!" to anyone who will listen on social media. Summer most emphatically ISN'T here, and won't be for another three months, but this island isn't known for letting like, GEOGRAPHY get in the way of good weather-relatedhistrionics. I'm only doing my patriotic duty.

The high street foliage has undergone a dramatic change in the past month, with the sludgy greys and rich purples of winter suddenly giving way to hues of icy blue and soft peach that seem designed specifically to showcases splashes of balsamic vinegar from my lunchtime salad. But don't think about that! Look, over here! A floaty silk chiffon dress! For your inner delicate flower! FOR GOD'S SAKE, WILL YOU PUT DOWN THAT HOT CROSS BUN AND - oh, you've had three? Might as well finish the pack then.

The Usual Suspects in the fragrance hall are also poised and ready to take advantage of your buoyant good mood and all that money you're so tired of lugging around. Yes, it's summer flanker time, so limber up, bitches and get ready to get fresh!A flanker, if you've not come across the term is essentially a sequel to an already established perfume. If you're in a generous mood, you could say that brands issue flankers in order to build on an established fragrance without starting from scratch, or to attract a younger customer who may associate earlier releases with something their mother or even grandmother wore. Some flankers, such as Coco Mademoiselle or Hypnotic Poison become successful enough to be deemed fragrances in their own right. On the other hand, the disenchanted among us might say that flankers are cheap, cynical attempts from major brands to bamboozle unsuspecting consumers with evocative language and pretty bottles (CK One Shock Street Edition for Him, anyone?). I say: If you can't say anything nice, come sit next to me.

For my money, the house of Thierry Mugler showcases some of the bravest and most interesting fragrances on the high street. Everyone I know seems to have a story about someone they knew (and usually hated) who wore Angel in the 90's, and I still find the salty caviar and fig riff of Womanity an astonishing act of faith for a mainstream brand to release in 2010, when the buzzwords in department stores seem to be "dull" and "inoffensive". Mugler makes a habit of not treating its customers like simpletons, and judging by the space they occupy in my local John Lewis, it seems to pay off.

But even a brand with a killer offering needs to offer newness, and Mugler certainly delivers, producing  flankers of its four pillar fragrances (Angel, A*men, Alien and Womanity) once or twice a year. For autumn, we're treated to the darker sides of these scents with cuirs, liquors and absolues, and in the spring we get the eaus and the aquas. This year's first summer offering is Alien Eau Extraordinaire, a luminous take on the 2005 original.

Composed by Dominique Ropion, the genius who gave us such masterpieces as Portrait of a Lady, Carnal Flower andAmarige (as well as the first Alien), the beige juice is housed in a transparent bottle similar to the original, but shorn of its sharp angles and edgy, sorcerer-fabulous charm. Instead of the Intergalactic Time Traveller come to shoot the funkless with her bop gun, we have the tastefully-accessorised Manhattan socialite come to top up the glasses of the champagne-less. Which is fine if you like that sort of generic prettiness, but isn't that why Jo Malone exists?

The fragrance opens strongly with a sparkling hit of bergamot and neroli and the refreshing bitterness of white grapefruit. This citrus sun shines brightly for about an hour or so, illuminating the tangle of jasmine and tiare flowers on the forest floor. But the initial euphoria quickly wears off, and you're left with a wan jasmine and some lukewarm cashmeran that apologises for itself, then makes a hasty exit - in short, a shadow of the bold original Alien that feels like a waste of an idea and talent. It's a bit like finding out that David Bowie has gone to work as a cashier in the Guildford branch of NatWest. You know the Goblin King is under there somewhere, but it's hard to make him out under the cheap grey Burton suit. If you're after something fresh for warmer weather, pick up a bottle of Mugler's very excellent Cologne instead.

As for me, my feelings about flankers remain unchanged: 90% of the time, you should just buy the original. Unless we're talking about M&M flankers, in which case, you must ALWAYS buy the pretzel M&Ms. As well as the original M&Ms. And the peanut M&Ms. They may not make you smell great, but at least you won't be disappointed.

Alien Eau Extraordinaire is available in any good department store and starts at £50 for 60ml.

Nasomatto Black Afgano: Chasing the Dragon

By Laurin

One of my favourite customers of recent weeks was a dapper young gentleman who had clearly just been bitten by the perfume bug. He was high on vetiver and giddy with tales from the Le Labo counter. I was immediately jealous of him in the same way that I'm jealous of people who have never watched Six Feet Under - that is, I wanted to throw my arms around him and shout, "WELCOME TO MY WORLD YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO LOOK FORWARD TO SORRY ABOUT YOUR WALLET!"

Now, I'm no psychologist, but I know a case of Acute Fragrance Psychosis when I see one. It's a condition that has afflicted many who have trod through the niche perfume path on the quest for fragrance Zen. Symptoms may include compulsive spending, an excessive proliferation of tiny glass vials about one's person, waxing lyrical about Portrait of a Lady, an overwhelming desire to loiter at the Guerlain counter, an obsession with pre-WWII leathers, vivid dreams in which Andy Tauer takes you to the cinema for a screening of Titanic (and in the dream he's like, your dad) and sudden, unexplained snobbery towards "department store brands".

Acute Fragrance Psychosis can end in one of two ways: you either keep chasing the dragon of that first extraordinary hit and end up committed (to the poorhouse) or you realise one day that you cannot possess all the things and you learn to be more judicious with your purchases, buying only what you truly love. Fortunately, I took the latter path, but my newfound enlightenment came with a price. Specifically, it came with the price of £108 for 30ml. Sit down, you guys. We need to talk. We need to talk about Buyer's Remorse.

Nasomatto's Black Afgano ticks all the boxes for a case of serious fragrant regret: it's over-hyped, overpriced and damn near impossible to find. I can think of at least five places in the UK where you can buy Nasomatto fragrances, but there's always a tell-tale gap on the shelf where Black Afgano should be. Once, I tried to smell it at Selfridges and was told they didn't even have the tester. It's basically the Keyser Soze of perfume.

What's so special about it? In a nutshell, it's supposed to smell of hashish. When it was created by Alessandro Gualtieri back in 2009, there were rumours that he’d had Afghani hashish smuggled to his Dutch laboratory in order to faithfully recreate its smell for his latest project. Some even say that the dark brown juice itself even contains a bit of the stuff. The Nasomatto website is quiet on the subject, revealing only that the fragrance “aims to evoke the best quality Hashish. It is the result of a quest to arouse the effects of temporary bliss.” Which is funny, because “bliss” is exactly how I would describe traipsing up and down Oxford Street on a Saturday in December, trying to get a whiff of the stuff as you slowly marinate in your own sweat under layers of wool and cashmere.
If you are lucky enough to get your sticky mitts on a bottle, what awaits you? Well, my main experience of cannabis is via an ex who liked to mix it into Cadbury’s chocolate mousse pots, so I spent my early 20’s convinced that it smelled and tasted exactly like Flake. Since then I’ve had the benefit of living in Brixton for over seven years, where a Local Businessman in a purple satin wolf jacket generously flogs his wares to the public from his office just outside the KFC. So I feel qualified to confirm that yes, for about 30 seconds, Black Afgano smells like sweet, syrupy Dairy Milk  cannabis intertwined with parched labdanum. After that initial high, it puts on its slippers and dressing gown and mellows out into a languid stretch of warm honey, incense, a touch of medicinal oud and sweet puffs of pipe tobacco. On my skin, this lasts for about 6 hours before the fragrance finally nods off for the evening into a happy, drooling slumber of sandalwood and nutty coffee. This is an extrait de parfum, so be prepared to spend the entire day with it. Overall, I get about sixteen hours of wear out of it.

Actually, I’m making it sound pretty good. And it is pretty good. So what is your damage, Heather?  Simply put, £108 for 30ml is stupid, stupid money for what is essentially a nice Oriental with a distressed wooden cap that looks like a parody of something you’d find on Etsy. I finally tracked down a bottle at a lovely branch of the Avery Fine Perfumery (http://averyfineperfumery.com/) while in New Orleans with my mother and sister. They had one left (of course). I hesitated for a moment, and then handed over my credit card. Later that week as I was packing my suitcase to return to London, I caught sight of the box and felt sick. There it was, a $200 statement of one-upmanship in a tasteful bottle that would have its fifteen seconds of fame on Instagram before being consigned to the top of my dresser and worn once a month. Maybe twice if I was feeling guilty. I wedged it in my bag next to the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups an eight-pack of socks from Target and thought, “I am powerless over perfume, and my obsession has become unmanageable.” Acceptance, after all, is the first step towards enlightenment.
Black Afgano is available at Space NK (http://uk.spacenk.com/black-afgano/MUK200005701.html), Roullier White (http://www.roullierwhite.com/nasomatto---black-afgano---extrait-de-parfum-30ml-3742-p.asp) and Bloom (https://bloomperfume.co.uk/products/perfumes/27). Or not.

Not buying it? Here are three perfumes you could try instead, for a lot less money:

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Absolue Pour Le Soir (http://shop.lessenteurs.com/p/4926/Absolue-Pour-le-Soir-EDP-70ml), £115. Okay, I lied about the “a lot less money” thing. But you get 70ml for your money, and smells like baklava being smuggled in a dirty thong. Guaranteed to make you blush.

Serge Luten Chergui (http://www.escentual.com/sergelutens17/), £69. The master of Orientals brings us his take on honey and tobacco, with a refreshingly spearminty top note of hay. I want to cheer when I put it on: “Cher-GUI! Cher-GUI!”

Yves Saint Laurent Opium (http://www.debenhams.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/prod_10701_10001_123064930499_-1), £69. The original narcotic perfume. Let’s get hiii-iiiigh, retro-style!

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Illamasqua Glamore Collection - Lips and Tips

By Laurin

I don't remember it myself, but my birth certificate tells me I entered this world in 1978. That makes me, Laurin Emily Taylor, 35 ½.  My mental age on the other hand clocks in somewhere around 80. I like early nights and stern disapproval and I'm counting the days until my physical age (and bank balance) allows me to genuinely rock a Chanel suit. I plan to wear it on hot summer days with red lips and a sneer as I sit on my front porch shaking my well-manicured fist at the neighbourhood urchins and screaming, "GET OFF MY LAWN!" until my manservant Raoul rushes out of the house to place a cool cloth on my fevered brow and lead me gently indoors for my afternoon repose (I've thought this through - it's essential to have a retirement plan, ladies).

Back here on planet Earth in the year 2014, my 9-5 often demands my presence in a kitchen, where the rigours of the job take mercy on no woman's nails. I love the polished look of nail varnish and lipstick, but it all seems like such a faff when you know your manicure will only look great for 24 hours, tops. My one attempt at gel ended with most of my nail bed sitting in a pile on my carpet after I gave in to the urge to pick at a chip. What I long for is a forgiving nail varnish that goes on easily, dries quickly and doesn't take require a professional to remove.

Enter the Illamasqua Glamore Collection, three brand new shades of ultra-dense, highly textured glitter nail varnishes and complimentary shades of satin-finish lipstick. I spent the week road testing two of the varnish shades: Fire Rose, a disco-flamingo shade of pink, and Trilliant, a champagne gold with the slightest tint of rose. There is also a juicy tangerine, Marquise, which I suspect would be brilliant for poolside lounging this summer.

If you're a bit cack-handed AND impatient, these are brilliant. The glitter particles are rough and chunky enough that they easily disguise a less-than-perfect application technique, and they are so dense that one coat does the trick. Even better, they are completely dry after 15 minutes, so you can get on with zesting lemons for your martini or sticking pins into voodoo dolls or whatever it is you like to do on Tuesday nights (don’t try picking a piece of Parma ham out of your back tooth with your index finger, though - this is may cause damage to your new manicure. Or so I hear).

Last week was a bit hectic, so I ended up putting my Fire Rose manicure through the paces at work: dish washing, gaffer tape picking, typing, parcel wrestling, vegetable chopping and every other not-so-glamorous job that gets thrown my way in the office. There are no miracles to report, I'm afraid. By the end of day three, the tips of my nails were starting to show some wear and tear, though there was no serious chipping. Time to start again: unlike other glitter polishes I've tried, Glamore comes off relatively easily. I was advised to wrap my nails in acetone soaked cotton wool and a layer of tin foil for 15 minutes before removing, but I found it wasn't necessary. It came off with Cutex and a bit of elbow grease, leaving my nails ready for Trilliant:

Of course my future self would never leave the house without a slick of bold lipstick, and the Glamore collection has that covered as well. The three shades of satin finish lipstick are designed to complement (but not match exactly) the nail varnishes. Satin finish is new territory for Illamasqua, who are known for their dramatic matte lipsticks. I've spent the week trialling Soaked, a bold orange and Luster, a shocking candy pink (there is also Glissade, a deep fuchsia). As you would expect, these are high-pigment, statement making colours, but they both feel soft and moisturising on my lips. My only quibble is with the packaging. It's perfectly serviceable, but for £16.50 a pop, I'd like something a bit more weighty and less plastic.

If you're already an Illamasqua fan, the Glamore collection will no doubt be right up your street. But if like me, you've always hung back around the Bobbi Brown counter with all the flattering neutrals, the nail varnishes are a great way to join the brights party without frightening the horses, and the finish of the glitter is rough and edgy enough that you needn't worry you'll look like a five year old who's just been let loose in Claire's Accessories. As for the lipsticks, the shock of bold colour in the middle of my face is going to take some getting used to. But I think I'm well on my way to being a lipstick lover. I have to be. My future self will accept no less.

The Illamasqua Glamore Collection launches in store on February 27th. Nail varnishes Fire Rose, Trilliant and Marquise are £15 each. Lipsticks Soaked, Luster and Glissade are £16.50 each.

The fine print: PR samples.

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Parfumerie Générale Tubéreuse Couture 17

By Laurin

Pierre Guillaume is a busy boy. Since the launch of his first perfume brand Parfumerie Générale in 2002, he has produced more than 73 different perfumes under three different brands. By my count, that's an average of six per year, or one every two months. I once forgot to change my bed sheets for two months, so to say I’m impressed with this man’s dedication to his vision is something of an understatement.

And yet, with such a prolific body of work, you've probably never heard of Parfumerie Générale. The brand seems to fly under the radar of all but the most dedicated fragrance obsessives, playing the quietly confident middle sister to the good-at-everything-she tries older sister of Frederic Malle's Editions de Parfums, and the brassy, blinged-up younger sister, By Kilian. The simple black and cream bottles sit studiously on their shelves, concentrating on the job at hand which is simply to make you smell fabulous. There isn’t a futuristic room diffuser or a snake-embellished clutch to be seen between them. When curious customers ask me to sum up the brand for them, I used to tell them that its real strength is gourmands and hyper-real foodie fragrances, excitedly pulling out Musc Maori’s technicolor chocolate and instant toothache Praline de Santal. Rookie mistake. The brand actually houses something for all tastes, from pretty fresh florals to evocative orientals to spicy chypres and even a rump-grinding dirty musk thrown in for good measure. Each creation plays its own tune, the music swelling up together like a grand symphony.

 If the brand itself is an orchestra, then Tubéreuse Couture is undoubtedly the cymbals. Tuberoses and I had a difficult beginning during my first forays into perfumery. For no reason I can think of, I loudly professed to anyone who would listen (which was precisely nobody) that I despised tuberose, hated it, that tuberose was RUINING MY LIFE. It was far too cloying, too sickly sweet and definitely had WAY too much wobbly cleavage on show. Shut up, I’d never even smelled a tuberose. Now, guess what? I love tuberose, I can’t get enough tuberose, tuberose is the BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME. Tuberose can be cloying and sickly sweet, but in the right hands it can also be sophisticated, erotic, narcotic or just a screaming good time.

A screaming good time is what you’re signing up for when you take your first spray of Tubéreuse Couture. A bubblegum-snapping camphorous tuberose rockets up your nose, followed closely by the raspy hiss of spun sugar and overripe banana. Having worn itself out on a manic sugar-high by lunch, the fragrance then went for a siesta, exhaling sighs of tuberose softened by the wet heat of jasmine, woody papyrus and a touch of creamy ylang. But by the time I was ready to leave work, the fragrance was wide awake and ready to party again. I could almost feel it grabbing me by the coat sleeve and pulling me towards a taxi bellowing, “LET’S GO DANCING! COME ON!”
But I am marching determinedly towards the comforts of middle age, and I like my bed. So Tubéreuse Couture went to the party without me, dressed to the nines and ready to shake it. Does she still have too much wobbly cleavage on show? Without a doubt. But I’ve learned to love her for it.
Tubéreuse Couture is £81.50 for 50ml. Samples and full bottles are available to purchase at Les Senteurs


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