Blown Out of Proportion

Make-up and character: I’ve always sought a proportionality between the two. Correction, I’ve always imagined a proportionality between the two. Subtlety wins brownie points while loudness warrants frowns. I’d heard a lady explain, “She looks pretty but slutty. Too… come-hither, you know?”

Make-up is all about looking natural. A natural somebody else, but natural nevertheless. To this extent, I accepted the utilitarian aspect of it(even if I didn’t appreciate it). Make-up, for a long time, in my head, was an equivalent to lies and superficiality. The louder the make up, shallower the person. The better the make-up, craftier the person. Like I said, proportion.

I believed, people at peace with their form didn’t need make-up. I was probably right. However, the necessity of something isn’t and shouldn’t be the only deciding factor. Make-up that arises without “need” or rather rises above it by default becomes art.

Art isn’t only about imitating the perfection that exists around. It is definitely not about blending in. It is about sieving out the noticeable bits from the ordinary and more often than not, magnifying them.

Why then should I begrudge the fiery reds on lips and the golden shadows on eyelids?

Oh, right- the irresistible urge to categorise.

The need to remain hipster, to seek distance from the feather-brained-by-default-because-excessive-eye-shadow kinds.

Most glaring of all reasons, the proportions. Those constructs that fail to acknowledge the evanescence and adaptability of make-up.

Well, damn.

Hand me that tube of gloss.

“Come hither?” (“Go there?”)

Say it.

I’m listening, maybe not.

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