Friday, July 16, 2010

Girls like me, love makeovers like this.

Little Tannah, who you might recognise from my previous post, has a lovely dad named Rob who just turned thirty. To celebrate he threw the monster of all parties last Saturday at the DHS Old Boys' Club, right here in sunny Durban. Or should I say, moonlit Durban.
The theme was "R" (for Robbin) - wear anything or dress as anything beginning with the letter R.
Now... let me give you a brief history about my foray into dress up parties. Being the super social, eager-to-please party girl that I am, in the past I've taken these dress up things very seriously. Some might say a little too seriously. And often, less than an hour into the party, I'm sweating my ass off under several layers of face paint, a wig and a ridiculous outfit that would NEVER in a million years get me laid, let alone a phone number. So this time around I decided the key words would be "Comfort", "Confidence" and "Sexy", so I decided to wear a little black dress, some killer heels, and a giant rose ("R" for rose, geddit?) in my hair.
But in an effort to look a little special, seeing as it was a special occasion, I booked an appointment at Truworths' Mac counter to have my make up done. I've had my face done there years ago for a wedding that I was going to and I quite enjoyed the experience. If any of you girls have ever had a Mac makeover you'll also know that you can dance, sweat, smooch, get wasted, lose your shoes, purse and specially coiffed hairdo, but your makeup stays right where they put it... Nice.
I'll be honest... I started to worry when I walked in the door for my makeover and my eyes caught sight of the tattoed freaks who were doing the makeovers. If I wanted to look like a hooker with syphilis, I would've snorted a gram, drank a bottle of cheap booze, waited a few hours and done my makeup myself. BUT! I very calmly waited in the seat, until God smiled on me and sent the most amazingly talented angel to do my face... Robyn did everything I asked for and more.
The brief was: Give me a Kim Kardashian smokey eye, with hints of colour to pick up on the bright pink rose I'll be wearing in my hair. I want drama. I want sexy and I want it NOW!
Well, I skipped all the way back to the car, making smokey-sexy eye contact with every hot boy I saw along the way. There's something about the power of The Smokey Eye that cannot be denied. No wonder Kim Kardashian manages to smoulder and pout and purr every time we see her on the red carpet. You really do feel super sexy.
When I got home, I was determined to capture the look on my camera, so I could remember the feeling, but also in the vain hope that I could look at the pics and practice in the mirror until someday, God willing, I would be able to achieve something even REMOTELY close to this perfection. Flash-forward three days, to me spending two hours at a make up counter trying to find colours that come close, that I can experiment with without breaking the bank; then flash-forward another three hours to me standing in the bathroom, COVERED in sparkly shit, red-eyed and teary from having poked my eyes out with various brushes and mascara wands. (Read: FUCK THIS!)
Here are some pics of me trying to catch the makeup in normal daylight, and looking like a total fool in the process:

And here's the finished product - hair, makeup and LBD:

Well... On several levels, we'll call it a success:
1. The last thing I remember was drunkenly trying to order a Steers burger at four the next morning. But my makeup was FLAWLESS when I got home at 4.30am. Result!
2. I met a super hot boy we'll call "Rockstar". More on this as things develop. *wink*
3. Super hot "Baby (Ron) Burgundy" mumbled that he's picking up a certain "change" in me... Mysterious. I like.
And yeah. I'd recommend it, and I'd suggest that you go as far out of your comfort zone as possible. Have fun, ladies. We've only got one life to live. Don't waste it on losers or playing it safe.

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