Making Up is Hard to Do

I don't typically sport "makeup." When I have a modeling gig, I get to leave that stuff to the professionals and usually it's such a scramble getting to NYC or some unheard of place in New Jersey or wherever on time and it's so awesome to have someone touching my face that I max out the bliss by sneaking in a li'l shuteye. So I don't know the tricks—left to my own devices, my hair's curly the way I like it only if the weather is just humid enough and my skin's dewy only if I've been hitting the water bottle. Otherwise I look the way I do in my passport pic.

But two cute preschoolers offered me a makeover last week--and since the offer was for imaginary shimmery pink lipstick and lots of mustaches on my eyes, it certainly would seem that my time had come. So I stopped by at the M.A.C. counter today where they didn’t have my exact shade and I ended up having half my face done done in a lighter color and the other half in a darker shade—it was a pretty radical look, but that’s how I looked when I took the train home.

I wish I lived back in the day when all they had was B&W photography…