Victoria Beckham Hair and Beauty Secrets
There it all was not just for me to see, but for the world to see as well. And “let it all hang out” just didn’t apply here, especially since I am a “fashion lady.”
To make matters worse, I couldn’t move my face and felt as if I couldn’t even open my mouth (a boon for my co-workers, no doubt) and it was uncomfortable. Little did I realize that this was the tautening up process that was to save my hair and skin from bad-cosmetics destruction. And so, as is my custom, I screamed for help from the Laszlo Institute. For the Institute was much like the Atkins office manned by a comforting staff to offer advice if things weren’t looking better. Things, in my case, most decidedly looked worse to me. My mentor at the Institute was Miss Gabrielle, Dr. Laszlo’s right-hand beauty for twenty-odd years, and a wonderfully patient woman with the humor to humor me, and the knowledge to understand my problems. She assured me that all was well, but that, if I really felt naked, I should apply that liquid makeup twice.
Now, please bear in mind that all of my life I’ve been anti-paint. I can’t stand a face that looks as though it’s been covered with a layer of plaster of Paris, so I’d always used the lightest makeup base I could find just enough to cover the things I didn’t want to show with a little bit of moisturizer (oh, what an education was yet to come) worn under that foundation. (Even then that “light” foundation was in creases by the end of each day, and there were creases in my face. That was seven years ago. And now there are none. Well, maybe not “none” . . . I’m seven years older, but a lot makeup-wiser.)
Still, hair and skin-bare for all the world to see was too much. So I applied the makeup twice, as directed. So what? The stuff was still see-through and I had lots to hide, nothing to hide behind, and was beginning to wish I’d never dreamed up transparent makeup.
And then funny things began to happen. Odd red circles appeared under my eyes and across my nose. I looked like a clown. One of my co-workers, who specialized in beauty stories, asked me why I was painting those “funny red circles” under my eyes. “New style,” I flippantly retorted, thanking God that it was the sixties era of way-out makeup. But secretly I had concluded that I was allergic to the Laszlo products (allergies are another redhead’s curse) and I was giving up. Oh, woe! Never to be a Beautiful Person. It couldn’t, wouldn’t happen to me!
And so it was back to the complaint department. I began to pressure our beauty editor into trying to get me an appointment to show this hideous mess to Dr. Laszlo himself. I even tried to sneak into the Institute through one of the patients-in-good-standing, only to
be told that she wouldn’t jeopardize her relationship with the doctor for anyone certainly not me. But I complained and tormented until finally I got that hoped-for call.
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