Tuesday, January 1, 2013

An English Rose Changes Her Nation?

Over the Christmas Break I did a little lipstick shopping at Nordstrom to replace my pilfered tints. 

One, a Laura Mercier, was a snap, as I've worn it for a few years and know its name well. The other, a Bobbi Brown, I bought just this summer at Saks, and could not remember its name.  I even have the receipt and the Saks assistant could not pull it up on her register (I did this part over the phone, lest gentle readers think I've confused stores after only one paragraph). 

It was a lighter pink, which is super-unusual for me, as I tend to stick with the Bobbi Brown browns. But in a summer-induced bronzey state of "try anything!" I walked away with a pink pout.  All fall I wondered, though, whether the pink was right.  But when I had my makeup done by Ms. Brown herself (shameless name-dropping) in the late 1990s, she also selected a shell pink, so I felt I was on the right track. 

(And she ordered me to go to Bliss, of which there was only one, in Soho, to get my brows shaped. Of course I did, and while there coveted Oprah Winfrey's fruit plate.  But that's another story.)

Back.  As I consulted with the Nordstrom assistant on the perfect shade of pink, she tried a couple and then dismissed them, telling me that I had too much pigment in my lips to wear a light colour.  That a light colour would give the dreaded "frosted" look, and she was so right.  Light bulbs went off.

She selected Italian Rose.  I tried it, liked it, then went outside to see what it really looked like, and still approved. So now this English/Scottish lass is borrowing from her Italian neighbours.

(When looking for an image, I found this one of GP wearing Italian Rose.  Our colouring is similar, except that my hair is not so overtly b.l.e.a.c.h.e.d., so you get the picture.)

Have gentle readers ever learned something useful about themselves at the maquillage counter? 

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