(All photos courtesy of Jordyn Taylor.)
In my continuing effort to become a real member of New York’s society of ladies, I feel it is important occasionally to take inventory of my strengths and weaknesses. There is no shame in this; I am good at many things.
For example, I made latkes on my first try this past December. Also, I can usually guess the outcome of any police procedural show five minutes into the program. (Some people might say that is a weakness because I am not fun to watch TV with, but they are just jealous.) I am a fast reader, and an equally swift—though more mistake-prone—writer. I can be witty, and I can hold my liquor.
However, my core “weak” areas involve how I present myself to others, which happens to be a big problem for anyone trying to climb the social ladder.
One of my most glaring weaknesses is my inability to figure out makeup. As in literally … I do not know how to apply it, find colors that don’t clash with my skin, or figure out the differences—both conceptually and physically—among foundation, concealer and powder. I don’t know what part of my eye the eyeshadow goes on or what part of my cheek blush is supposed to cover. I have not owned or touched the following products in my entire life:
- Lip pencils
- Eyebrow pencils
- Eyelash curlers
- Lash extensions
- Brushes that are purchased independently from makeup containers.
It’s not that I am cheap or that I don’t want to look nice; it’s just something I’ve never felt comfortable doing. I don’t know why the point of wearing makeup is to look like you are not wearing makeup, when you could just NOT wear makeup. And out of principle, I don’t own anything sharp or pencil-shaped if its sole purpose is to direct itself onto the skin closest to my eyeball. I saw Un Chien Andalou.