Team Facegoop are in London! I don’t know why I call us Team Facegoop. It makes us sound like Team Rocket from Pokemon and that is NOT a good thing.
Anyway. M has already told me my left foot looks like her sister’s cat’s hernia, but I’m not rising to the bait. Instead we’re concentrating on bringing you Exciting New Content.
First up, this video in which I look like a shiny, sweaty lunatic and tell you about what I’ve brought along in my make up and toilet bags.
E’s Toilet Bag
Braun Professional Straighteners
Toni & Guy Iron It Heat Defence Spray
Nuxe Bio-Beauté Fruity Micellar Cleansing Foam
L’Oréal NutriBronze
Skin.NY Radical Restructure Complex (“chemical warfare in a tube”)
Caudalie Anti-Ageing Face Suncare SPF 30
Chanel Dragon Nail Colour
OPI We’ll Always Have Paris Nail Lacquer
Body Shop Body Brush
Dove Invisible Dry Deodorant
Serge Lutens Sa Majesté La Rose
Weleda Birch Cellulite Oil
Nurofen Plus
No hair brush, toothbrush, toothpaste
E’s Make Up Bag
Nars The Multiple, in Orgasm
Nars Lip gloss in Turkish Delight
Nars Shadow duo in Belissima
Nars Aigle Noir Soft Touch Shadow Pencil
Laura Mercier Secret Camouflage
2 identical Laura Mercier concealer brushes
Laura Mercier compact blusher brush
Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturiser
Armani Face Fabric
Armani Blush Duo
Armani Eye Shadow in Maestro
Bobbi Brown Gel Eyeliner in Espresso and Caviar
Bobbi Brown Ultra fine eyeliner brush
Coco Mademoiselle lip colour
Tom Ford Pink Dusk lip colour
M Yes. I had war paint on. And by war paint, I mean I combed my hair.
E: Because just occasionally I like to pretend I am in charge at Facegoop towers.
M: Oy! You are in charge! ish.
E: Of course i am. If by “in charge” you mean “your terrified subordinate”, then yes, I am in charge. Anyway. I sent you on a mission and you have, I believe, returned triumphant.
M: YES!
E: Tell me all.
M: I braved the squawking army of pink cheeked mac girls to retrieve this:
E: Ooooooooh my makeup bag! Come to momma.
M: Although why you would pay £24 for a bit of a print and a zipper, I’m not sure.
E: It has birds on, OK?
M: OK. BIRDS. Whatever. I did paw the scarf too though. It was nice. Thin and soft. Of course I blame you entirely for what happened next.
E: Oh dear. What did happen next?
M: I was drawn to the Chanel counter by invisible threads, like in a creepy puppet film.
E: Ouh la la. C’est pas bon, ça. Were they diffusing the scent of giant macarons to lure you in?
M: They had essence of Vanessa Paradis wafting. Not Joe le taxi Vanessa Paradis. Chanel Vanessa Paradis. Two very different BIRDS.
E: A taxi is a bird? I did not know this. I bet she’s a patchouli girl in real life though. Dirty barefoot hippie, living in the country with that bearded waster.
M: Yes. Do you think he just speaks in pirate speak?
E: Yes.
M: Arrrr. That be a fine cupcake, Vanessa.
E: Arrrrrrrrr. First mate Paradis, plait me beard or I’ll make you walk the plank.
M: The end of the story is that I bought the fecking Mademoiselle lipstick, because I was brain washed by how pretty and wearable it is.
E: Oh man. And what colour is Mademoiselle?
M: It’s VANESSA PARADIS COLOURED. It’s the colour of Pretty. It is Joli.
E: Bon. Clearly I will get no sense out of you. You’ll just have to post a photo.
M: What, like this?
E: Yes.
M: Not sure Vanessa would approve of my application “skillz”. Speaking of her, you must watch this:
E: Ils sont cons, ces français.
M: They are comparing her to Titi, the irritating yellow cartoon bird.
E: Nice tail. Céline on the Armani counter at Printemps Beauté would be jealous.
M: “On est dans une logique cartésienne”, they say. I am getting flashbacks to first year lectures at the Sorbonne.
E: C’est archi archi français, ça.
M: Oui. 100% français.
E: Hang on, we’ve got distracted again. What were we saying? You bought lipstick.
M: I blame you. The end.
E: I have also been beauty shopping, M. I have Chosen.
M: Chosen What?
E: The Chosen One. Every year, I choose a cellulite cream in which to place my ridiculous faith. I went to the pharmacy this week and It was on the counter.
M: Oh dear. This is not in the spirit of Easter.
E: The “presentoir” in which the boxes were placed was black and shiny, like it really meant business.
M: Cellulite business.
E: It was Vichy, my favourite of all of last year’s stupid snake oil creams. New Improved Vichy Nonsense.
M: Riiiiight.
E: Because the world has moved on since Lipo Dissolve, or whatever the last one was. Cellulite technology lies move fast. Now we have ….
CELLU DESTOCK
M: HA!
E: Yes. It is a made up word they hope sounds scientific and slimming.
M: That’s like one of those bad overstock stores in Etienne Marcel. Kookai stock from 3 years ago. LA GRANDE BRADERIE de la CELLULITE!
E: PRIX HALLUCINANTS SUR LES CAPITONS!!!!! Je suis d’accord. However! Peer closer into the Vichy tube.
M: Must I?
E: Yes. The contents are pale green, the exact colour of Chanel Jade nail polish. And it contains something called a “lypolytic activator” How can it fail? It has a “lypolytic activator”, which is basically Mr Motivator for my fat. It pokes your fat until it wakes up and goes away.
M: Ugh. I am tired just thinking about it.
E: It is, you will be delighted to hear, “tested in vitro on lipocidine”. As opposed to tested on, say, LEGS.
M: Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Legs are not hygienic, E. Everyone knows that. You think those lab-coated scientists have ever been NEAR a leg? Have they balls.
E: My favourite bit is the German for “diet resistant problem zones”, which is “Hartknäckigen Problemenzonen”
M: Knäcki. That’s a sausage, isn’t it? Well, my thighs DO look like sausages. I am sold. SOLD!
E: Well. It’s been a tremendous weekend for beauty purchasing. We have done well. Hohe funf, M?
E: The continued story of sunscreen, a tale almost as gripping as the Twilight saga. Except, not.
M: There are no werewolves in this tale. And no forbidden love.
E: So. I had none of my magical Clarins superscreen. I was in duty free with some fictitous money. Money in another currency does not count and can be spent on all manner of tawdry rubbish in airport beauty counters.
M: That’s right. Particularly if it’s Swiss (taps nose).
E: Ssshhh!
M: SHHHHHH.
E: I saw a dinky, dainty little Chanel bottle of sunscreen. “Chanel Précision UV Essentiel Soin Protecteur”. A big name for such a small tube. It is pretty. It is small. It is neatly handbag sized and it is SPF 50. Win win win. I bought it.
M: Does it cost 5 gazillion CFA francs? Wait, no, that’s more like 3 centimes.
E: How the hell do you expect me to know? It’s made up money. And what happens in Geneva airport stays in Geneva airport.
M: Right. Sorry. It’s just, if I’m going to buy some sunscreen, I need it to, you know, cover my whole face. More than once. Possibly every 2 to 4 hours.
E: Well, there are 30 of your continental milliletres in there if that means anything to you. And it’s pretty liquid so that goes a long way. Anyway, you live in Scotland dude. You won’t need it more than once a year.
M: Yes, but then I SLATHER myself in the stuff. It is a form of rebellious teenage behaviour. My mother did not believe in sunscreen.
E: You’re actually trying to become Scottish, aren’t you? You WANT to look like you live in an underground burrow and eat nothing but saturated fat and cheap alcohol. Shall I tell you what it’s like, anyway?
M: Please do, while I gnaw on this sausage roll.
E: It’s ok. It doesn’t match up to my magical Clarins supersunscreen of love.
M: Uuuuugh. Really? Not soft as a goose down duvet? No high tech texture?
E: No. Pleasant texture, though less glidey than the Clarins. And although it smells nice enough going on, it soon defaults to a nagging, medical, zinc oxide smell.
M: No Swiss nurses dabbing your fevered brow with cool cloths? No tiny Cambodian children fanning your feet with peacock feathers?
E: No Swiss nurses. Not a single cambodian child fanned my feet during today’s inaugural wearing of the Chanel sunscreen. It goes on ok and it’s not greasy. I’m sure it does the job because there’s more of a sensation of coverage and it smells like sunscreen. But it’s not really making me love it. It is not working hard for its 670000 CHF.
M: Feck. Coco, Karl, or whoever is responsible for this debacle: SHAME ON YOU. Also, why did you not just buy the Clarins one?
E: That is a good question. I think I was blinded by the dainty Chanel packaging.
M: Yes. They are good at making bottles feel satisfying heavy. There is a special secret lab for this rue Cambon.
E: Look:
E: It’s cute. Its barely the size of 4 mini eggs. You can’t fault it for prettiness. But I’ll be going back to Clarins wonderscreen now. Well, when I have finished this. Sadly I’m not going anywhere with fictitious currency anytime soon.
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