19/07/2022
Music and make-up are heady parts of celebrations. Here is a poem I wrote about first forays into make-up. I would be delighted to have a poem commissioned as part of my celebrant's practice.
Made-up
Promise me you’ll never wear paint, said grandma
And I nodded
Maybe there were dark histories of war paint gone wrong amongst her 12 siblings?
But the rot had already set in.
I was eleven, and had already fallen for the gaudy charms of Woolworths’ make-up counter, Rimmel, silver blue eyeliner, enough to replicate a bruise
Between the twelve-inch singles and the sickly temptations of the pic’n mix,
Where every bite meant progress towards your next filling.
My sister promised readily and sincerely
And for a couple of years she, braced and pebble-glassed, was true to her word.
But Debbie Harry sang “Heart of Glass”, and the siren call of Woolworths could not be resisted.
Parallel lines, our first album, a pooled purchase
And after the dancing,
Lip gloss, scarlet blusher, pink eyeshadow,
But faces scrubbed clean for grandma.
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=836349363056976&set=t.100000457592943&type=3
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGU_4-5RaxU
