Down to the pan on only two colours in your eyeshadow palette? The Mumster throws shade on sticking to the same looks and shows us how to get the most from the handiest piece of your make-up collection…
Saturday mornings are bliss, aren’t they? The first morning of the weekend, no need to put the alarm on, a time to relax and recover from Friday Night Frolics.
Yet there I was, knocking off the alarm – for a fitness class.
Yup, a fitness class. I have become the type of woman who forsakes the Saturday lie-in in favour of a knackering hour at the gym. (I am starting to get very worried that somehow when I turned 50, I went through a wormhole in space and am now in a very strange parallel dimension where I do things like this. Donald Trump as US President has to be pretty strong evidence in favour of that hypothesis, no?)
This is a weird age. At one point, when I look at it written down – or when I have to scroll back through the years to register online and the mouse is moving like Mo Farah – I feel old. Or rather, I feel I should be old, because most of the time I feel the same as I did in sixth form.
There is a feeling, once you get past 40, that you should start disappearing, blend into the background and let the beautiful young things shine. Don’t wear short skirts; don’t have long hair; wear comfortable shoes…
It’s the feeling when you look in the mirror and think: “A woman nearly 50 should not be wearing that outfit”, as I did a few weeks ago with the get-up below. But then, I think “short skirt, black tights, flat shoes – still got it”. Continue reading “The eyes have it… eventually”→
(Well, that title’s not bloody true for a start because Kendall Jenner’s not on the list so that’s the young ones out of it.)
Confession time, I am a slob. I am not one of nature’s stylish people, nor do I particularly work at it. I’d love to – oh God, would I love to – because there is nothing more awe-inspiring than seeing an effortlessly chic person.
(Yes, yes, I know. The birth of a baby, the Milky Way, everything Mother Nature puts out etc. But at 8am, when my mouth can still taste the coffee and my brain can’t and there’s a “I just threw this on” Ines de la Fressange lookalike opposite me looking like she’s had a night of champagne and non-stop rampant sex and oooozing with confidence and Continue reading “Style icons for any age”→