It's gonna get sappy up in here.
I would like to take a minute to discuss fake eyelashes.
Most days I am wearing a T-shirt, some sneakers, slapped on eyeliner and a sort of desperate hope that my glasses are covering the monster rat-king of a zit brewing between my eyes. I love the drama certain makeup looks can inspire, and how the right palate applied to your face can have you swanning through a room, but more often than not, I’m running through a room to stop a cat from humping another cat (TO DEATH) or considering just how actively feasible it is for me to wear heels given that a large portion of my day will be spent walking from one place to the next.
For the rare occasion that does call for me to slap some paint on the barn, I used to rely on statement earrings. But now that I’ve got statement spectacles and statement hair, statement earrings are a statement that does not need making. So I've started playing around with fake lashes. On New Year’s Eve, I tried a Sophia Lauren eye, passed out drunk and woke up with one of the lashes connecting my eyebrows and the other jauntily perched upon my nipple, like an aggressive miniature mohawk.
After a lot of scowling at makeup tutorials online, inadvertently replicating the looks of Japanese Pop Stars, and gluing my fingers to my face more than once, things slowly improved (especially when I subbed in the end of my tweezers for my pudgy digits). They might have done so faster had I been wearing the lashes everyday, but my preferred length of lash tends to brush up against my glasses -- which is arguably the gnarliest sensation ever. It makes my butthole pucker just to think about.
So when I was given a chance to try Velour Lashes, I spotted an opportunity to kick up my lash game in a major way. Velour Lashes’ website is quick to extol the luxe quality of these dudes: Beyonce buys them by the boatload, they are made from mink (but without harming the little fellows!), they curl just like the real thing, you can use them up to 25 times! This is all well-and-good, but I was like, “Guys -- you had me at Beyonce.”
It just so happened that I was due to attend an outdoor wedding in California when my lashes arrived by mail. Where better to get my Hollywood Gothic look on, right? I got up the morning of the wedding and mildly panicked as I began to get ready. I had top lashes to sample ("The Extra Oomph") and some bottoms (the hilariously named "Style Me Kardashian"), which I’d never tried before. I was getting anxiety hives and kept stabbing myself in the eyeball with the bottom lashes.
“KIM!” I screamed, “HELP ME!” When Kim Kardashian did not appear to assist me, I decided just to stick with the top-lashes for now, and try the bottom ones out when maybe Madame K could pencil me in for a tutorial.
Burned and skeptical, I took to the top lashes. If you’re a lash novice using strip lashes, here’s a tip -- measure ‘em and cut ‘em to fit your lid. Not all lashes fit every eye. I snipped mine a tad, added far too much glue, and -- using tweezers -- applied from the outer eye in, as close to the lash line as possible. Everybody always says put your liner on first. I feel this is hokum, as my eyes water like whoa when I’m doing my lashes. That said, I do put on mascara before hand. You do you, guys. You do you.
Once those dudes were in place I spent five minutes batting my lashes and cooing. Then I used various shades of purple powders to create a daytime smokey eye.
My complete eye look was an old-school, almost Jessica Rabbit one -- I was quietly obsessed and began pitching my voice very low and accidentally saying suggestive things to people. The elevator door at our hotel opened to two waiting teenage boys. “Going down?” I purred -- LIKE A PERVERT.
I paired the face-stuffs with the magical maxi dress I wrote about a little while back. Being as that we were in California, I also wore giant sunglasses and swilled prosecco and felt in general awesome. I completely forgot I was wearing the falsies. Compared to other lashes I’ve worn, they didn’t get in my way or itch and burn (I am a pleasure to know). This was surprising given the fact that I am the most delicate creature on God’s earth and was fairly certain this article was bound to turn into “IHTM: My Eyeballs Fell Out Because I Am Allergic To Mink.”
While at no point was I spotted wearing a metal glove or proudly proclaiming that no one present was ready to bear witness to my jelly, I did feel like a little bit like a rock star. I’m not saying I’ll be wearing lashes daily, but with ones so long-lived, maybe I’ll make Fridays “Lash Day.” Also I think I might start wearing silk scarves to bed, but that is neither here nor there.
Are you a fake eyelash wearer? What's your special-occasion beauty routine? Share, share, share.