Let me be perfectly clear, “Breaking The Rules” in a bad way. I’m good at that, quite accomplished actually.
I’ll explain. This morning, late morning (I want my confession to be on the up-and-up), I leapt out of bed; threw on my black pants and long, black cashmere sweater, no surprise there; slipped into my black ballerinas. . .the theme continued, and headed into the kitchen to prepare my café au lait and a couple of kiwis. I’m absolutely obsessed with kiwis at the moment. That’s just me, I have passing obsessions.
I was rushing because I wanted to get to the market to buy all the ingredients for our weekly vegetable soup, which we consume almost every evening. My lovely femme de menage and I make the soup together. She is a much faster chopper-upper than I am.
OK, I digress. Since I was moving quickly, I decided to eschew makeup. Instead, I rinsed my face; brushed my hair; put on a veil of my Eucerin hyaluron-filler soin de jour; my very, very slightly tinted lipgloss; my sunglasses, et voilà, out the door.
My mother’s mantra of “make sure you look your best because you never know. . .” didn’t even echo in my brain. It didn’t that is until I ran into a woman I haven’t seen for more than two years. The minute she called out to me over the clementines I thought: “See what happens when you don’t wear makeup?”
I’ll spare you the details, other than to say it was wonderful to see her and we’ve made plans to meet again soon. (Bottom line, I suppose: It didn’t matter that I was bare-faced since she too must have been in a hurry this morning. She was also sans maquillage.)
Still, it brought me back to the realization that three more minutes before I left the house wouldn’t have been the end of the world. A dab of under eye cover-up, a sweep of mascara, and a whisk of blush take no time at all.
Sometimes I don’t practice what I preach.