Unfortunately, I also hate people touching my face. What could go wrong?
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| MAC cosmetics is also part of the Estée Lauder company |
Disregarding my eternal fear of a single finger touching my mug, I booked an appointment easily online for the MAC store in Covent Garden. Like most women, I've had MAC products before and I was happy with whatever they did with my face. Noticing that the 60 minute Full Makeup Application for £40 was redeemable against any purchases made, and on further inspection of my makeup bag, I was definitely due some new cosmetics.
Being the pessimist that I'am, I went into this with many doubts. I may have had this underlying lurking fear to start with, but also I've stupidly booked it for a busy Saturday afternoon in Covent Garden. The store was also as hectic as the famous surrounding West End area. Brilliant.
Feet in the door, I swiftly figured out that upstairs was for customers looking for a fast transaction. I spotted a staircase leading to a basement floor. Arriving downstairs a vexed customer, trying to get passed me, is quite loudly saying "No, I think you're wrong" to a man dressed in the famous all black MAC attire. Who pissed in her cornflakes?
Standing there patiently, it's at this point, I'm thinking about that whole year I worked in high street retail. I'm noticing it's a bit strange that no staff have asked me if I'm ok. I flog down a woman to tell her I have an appointment at 4 o' clock, to which she shortly makes me aware that I'm early. Confused by this comment, I'm trying to figure out if she's said this in a narky way. I take out my phone. It's 3:54pm.
After I'm eventually seated, I'm introduced to my artist for the next hour. I show her some inspiration pictures and my outfit for the night. Lashes, heavy eyeliner and bright lippy. Not too complicated, a little bit 60s and trying to steer well clear of the drag look. With friendly chit-chat flowing, I've just got to not concentrate on her hands touching my face.
It's 30 minutes in. I may have slightly felt like getting sick when the white pencil eyeliner was dragged across my lower lid, but I'm doing well. Breathe. Eyes done, moisturised, and my foundation is on. I'm a neutral cool if you care.
Feet in the door, I swiftly figured out that upstairs was for customers looking for a fast transaction. I spotted a staircase leading to a basement floor. Arriving downstairs a vexed customer, trying to get passed me, is quite loudly saying "No, I think you're wrong" to a man dressed in the famous all black MAC attire. Who pissed in her cornflakes?
Standing there patiently, it's at this point, I'm thinking about that whole year I worked in high street retail. I'm noticing it's a bit strange that no staff have asked me if I'm ok. I flog down a woman to tell her I have an appointment at 4 o' clock, to which she shortly makes me aware that I'm early. Confused by this comment, I'm trying to figure out if she's said this in a narky way. I take out my phone. It's 3:54pm.
After I'm eventually seated, I'm introduced to my artist for the next hour. I show her some inspiration pictures and my outfit for the night. Lashes, heavy eyeliner and bright lippy. Not too complicated, a little bit 60s and trying to steer well clear of the drag look. With friendly chit-chat flowing, I've just got to not concentrate on her hands touching my face.
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| Moodboard vibes |
It's 30 minutes in. I may have slightly felt like getting sick when the white pencil eyeliner was dragged across my lower lid, but I'm doing well. Breathe. Eyes done, moisturised, and my foundation is on. I'm a neutral cool if you care.
However, feeling optimistic, I'm beginning to feel that I can do this look myself. Yes, on those rare occasions I do wear makeup, I can do a decent job. I ask to make my contour darker. My face is being softly skimmed with a brush. Lastly, some hot pink lipstick is applied. And voilá. 40 minutes in and I'm done. She asks if I would like anything else. I ask for highlighter, she says it's already on. Oops. Oh shit, my eyebrows aren't even filled in. I stay quiet.
Now, this is where I finally get a bit annoyed. Not only do I have 20 minutes left to my appointment, but I feel like I'm being rushed out of my seat to make way for their next client, whose promptly seated after I get up. I don't make a fuss. I buy my products, and ever so quickly, get the hell out of a crowded Covent Garden.
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| Before and after |
I can understand this beauty pamper session if it's your wedding and you've got a gaggle of your girls with you. Nevertheless, fear overcome, I think with MAC you pay for the experience, and I feel this busy Saturday fell short of my expectations. Perhaps it's my own idiotic fault for not planning this better, but I don't think it's going to be something I would rush back and do soon.
As for the MAC products used on my face, well, they were as magic as ever.
Not every makeup brand will hold when you've slept in it over night and followed this with your head down the toilet throwing up the contents of the many, many cocktails you had the night before.
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