I am not budging on my ‘feminist’ (lazy) decision to give up makeup. But I am busy testing perfumes that smell of goat, mushroom and seaweed
I find myself confronted, yet again, by summer grooming dilemmas, even though I don’t believe in either summer, or grooming. My approach to personal maintenance all year round is to intone “I had a beauty blog once” while gazing into the middle distance like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa. As if writing about snail goo in the past absolves me of responsibility to do anything about how I look now.
Then summer, oof! I cried for 20 minutes yesterday just because the birds looked too hot. I don’t really have the mental bandwidth for anything other than letting the heat do its worst with my keratin and whatever skin is (I just googled “What is skin?” for a snapshot of how deep into summer madness I have sunk). But is it rude to go out without making some cursory effort? In summer, you’re dealing with the dread re-emergence of feet into the public sphere, plus the way your whole face slides greasily southwards, making you look, as the writer Sarah Dempster said memorably, “Like Noddy Holder screaming in a kiln”.
Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist Continue reading...
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