Some people only know me as I currently am but everyone has a “starting point” – a frame of reference that they see as what they were at a certain “aha” moment in time and they progress from there with mental snapshots as well as visual ones that embed themselves into our personal psyche as who we are/were at that time. I have memories that go back to when I was two for sure and lots more since then. I remember my favorite dolls, dresses, what I liked to do as a tiny kid (and I mean under 5). I remember the sight of my mom getting dressed up to go out. She was all aswirl with her very short hair (a 50′s + punk twist on short hair is the best guesstimation from my personal memories. High heels I would try to wear and she would shoo me away out of them before I destroyed them. I remember hunting through her jewelry box looking at all the different pieces–trying to figure out HOW to wear all these things she would put on- yet didn’t look the same on me. Kids see their parents often with awe.. and little girls watch their mother apply their makeup AKA war paint as something so imspiring of being an adult or “grown-up”. Who didn’t want to have black eyeliner or mascara, and gorgeous lipsticks in which I was to never use them as crayons ever again. The one thing that always got my attention as she left was the waft of her fragrance as she dashed by me, clutching her bag putting on jewelry and walking out the door.
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Makeup Mania: Where I Got My Beauty Inspiration + How I Became an Almay Spokesperson!
Some people only know me as I currently am but everyone has a “starting point” – a frame of reference that they see as what they were at a certain “aha” moment in time and they progress from there with mental snapshots as well as visual ones that embed themselves into our personal psyche as who we are/were at that time. I have memories that go back to when I was two for sure and lots more since then. I remember my favorite dolls, dresses, what I liked to do as a tiny kid (and I mean under 5). I remember the sight of my mom getting dressed up to go out. She was all aswirl with her very short hair (a 50′s + punk twist on short hair is the best guesstimation from my personal memories. High heels I would try to wear and she would shoo me away out of them before I destroyed them. I remember hunting through her jewelry box looking at all the different pieces–trying to figure out HOW to wear all these things she would put on- yet didn’t look the same on me. Kids see their parents often with awe.. and little girls watch their mother apply their makeup AKA war paint as something so imspiring of being an adult or “grown-up”. Who didn’t want to have black eyeliner or mascara, and gorgeous lipsticks in which I was to never use them as crayons ever again. The one thing that always got my attention as she left was the waft of her fragrance as she dashed by me, clutching her bag putting on jewelry and walking out the door.
Read the rest of this entry »