My blog and Twitter followers are probably already aware of my makeup habit, one that’s been considerably reined in since returning to school (but will take off again after exams are over and I’m working full time over the summer). Anyway, there are some things I’m not willing to cheap out on–you will have to pry my Naked palette and Kat Von D Tattoo liquid liner out of my cold, dead hands–but other things I am. Which brought me to a few days ago, when I noticed I was just about out of setting powder.
Let me back up a little bit: I friggin’ love my makeup. It’s a topic I could write a few blogs about, but won’t, since I’m a romance author and not an MUA. I’m not a clotheshorse, I don’t get the obsession with shoes, and I wear my curly hair natural out of my sheer ineptitude with a hair dryer and flat iron than anything else, but I really enjoy my makeup. I have since I was 12, when my mother brought me to the Body Shop to buy my first lipstick. Being the mid-90s, it was, of course, brown. I looked like I smeared my lips in a chocolate pudding cup. While there are many, many photos of me in various looks through the years (I went through a huge punk phase in my late teens, people. It wasn’t pretty), this was before the days of social media, so none are online (I hope).
Anyway, back to the setting powder. My shade was available in drugstore brands, which was awesome because right now I cannot afford a high-end setting powder at the moment (just another two semesters to go before I can again!). I ended up buying the Cover Girl powder, because it was on sale and if I hated it, well, at least it was cheap.
I opened it to test it out when I got home, and while it matched and the texture was fine and everything, it was the smell that got to me. I usually buy unscented whenever I can, but this wasn’t bad, just…familiar.
Then I remembered it. It smells exactly like the inside of my late grandmother’s makeup drawer in her bathroom, if not the actual powder she used. I don’t remember the brand name–it came in a dark blue container, I think, and it had a little glyph on the top–but this stuff smells just like it. I nearly cried when I realized what it was.
It’s been two years since she passed on, and now it’s the little things, like opening up a random powder container, that remind me what I’ve lost.