Ally: I’ve been meaning to talk makeup for awhile. Ever since L-A and I hit up the Sephora grand opening. Between our fancy swag bag and the ridiculous financial investment I made into the Halifax location, I’m feeling fancier than Lindsay Lohan at a Kardashian wedding. Let me talk to you about my newest finds in the makeup department.
The marketing bitches at Urban Decay do not lie. This is serious potion shizz. Neighbourhood Bestie Melissa turned me onto this delicious item, and even though it costs almost as much as a monthly deposit for daycare, it’s well worth it. My new smoky eyes (another investment) stay put all day long. No weird eye shadow crusty business. You know what I mean. When your eye make up makes you look like you’re Madonna at age 80 post-cosmetic surgery in the Notting Hill Retirement Community.
I have a million tubes of lip gloss. This is not an exaggeration. I have at least two in each purse. And I have many purses. They are scattered throughout my car. I find them in my underwear drawer (don’t ask). My son places them in his dinky car dump trucks and drives them around our living room. I had yet to find a lip gloss that I TRULY COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT. That is until I met this baby.
I know, right? I love the packaging as well. I’m a sucker for packaging. I fully select my wine at the booze store based on how pretty the bottle is. I’ve yet to be disappointed. There’s a slight tingle when you put this on your lips, and it is a bit sticky (as in my hair gets pasted to my lips if I’m not careful). All worth it. It stays on for hours and is a great subtle gloss. I endorse.
Totally not on the subject of makeup, but something I absolutely must flag are a pair of my good friend Jacklyn’s new shoes. In the middle of quite the hectic work day today, I got an email from Jacks with the subject, “My newest babies”. I think Jacks has a lot of babies. Like the old lady who lived in her amazing shoe. Trust that I’d give birth to these bitches without an epidural:
For the life of me I do not know how to flip this photo. L-A loves when I do a half-assed job on posts. She finds it cute. (L-A: it really is adorable. And normally, I’d just fix it…but WordPress hates me tonight).
Anyway, you get the idea. They’re insane. I LOVE. They’re Ron White Rey Olive, sadly not available on the website, but Jacks promises me she can get me the CAN retail info if anyone is interested. Jacks works at Ron White in the marketing department. I know, you want to hate her, but she’s too adorable. Plus, I’m hoping that one day she’ll take pity on me and send free shoes (plural).
L-A: Imma gonna go completley off topic. Because it is après Labour Day and today had enough of a chill in the air this morning that I broke out the coloured tights. To which I say: welcome back my darlings! My outfits missed you big time!
The other thing about fall was summed up nicely with this tweet by Kat Asharya (who writes/owns NoGoodForMe.com, which is kind of my favourite website):
Except, I don’t know that I have a punky side. But I do know that when the Tuesday after Labour Day hits, I am all over the bougie fashions. I totally dream dreams of being all perfect and upperclass like and windswept yet totally pulled together like I’m in a movie about co-eds at some ivy covered college somewhere in New England. So whenever anyone puts together a lookbook for fall that captures that fashion dream of mine, I pretty much start asking, “can I move into your ad campaign already?” (yes, I am a sucker for the marketing of fall fashions and back to school stationary).
Here’s two that got me good this year.
I don’t know anything about this company, but there is a lot of windblown yet perfect hair and heathery tights with patterns.
I mean. Seriously. I want to live this late fall dream of wool and hanging out on docks and shit. One where a dude could wear a turtleneck with a hoodie and I don’t make fun of him and try to drink away the memories of his bad layering decisions. Unlikely to ever happen, but it just seems lovely. So does their equestrian looks.
A world where I am not weirded out by ponies, hang out with dudes who play polo as a hobby and I wear legging as pants because they’re actually called jodhpurs? Delightful! Again, extremely unlikely. But I still want to live it when I look at the lookbook. I’d even want one of their adorably well-dressed and tidy poppets:
Of course, my polo playing husband and I would have a nanny and someone to do the laundry in order to ensure our adorable children (who get their bitchface from me) are always well mannered and well dressed. Obvs. I bet we’d even have some kind of floppy eared purebread dog (and a professional dog walker).
The other bougieful lookbook I want to move into is year two of Meet the Hilfigers.
Look at that old moneyed and slightly multi-cultural clan! We’d wear cashmere turtlenecks, refer to mom as Mumsy or something equally charming, the siblings would have a made up language and odd nicknames for each other like Debo or Pip or Whipsy and après-ski would just be a way of life, not part of a vacation we saved up for (the idea of a skiing vacation is hilarious to me. I grew up 20 minutes from a pretty awesome ski hill and I neither ski nor snowboard). This clan would be wacky in a way that everyone would call eccentric because we have enough money that people wouldn’t think to call us weird or crazy. We’d be your real life Royal Tennenbaums. I’d totally smoke Marlboros in the bathtub and my life would be labeled in Futura.
Of course, all of this will wear off within the month. Until then, I will continue to check out fall lookbooks and think about moving into those ad campaigns already.