Well, it’s like this. My lashes are long. And blond. So tinting has always been my failsafe, to stop me resembling the last uncooked chicken on the shelf.
So nobody remembered to tell my upper eyelid that 50 is the new 40, so it’s making its intrepid journey south. It’s not quite in my eyes, but you get the idea. So when perming lashes hit my radar, I was curious. They might curl so far back that they’ll be trapped under my eyelid and I’d be forced to stare forevermore. Yes, I know, I sound ridiculous.
Let’s face it ladies, as we advance towards blue rinses and gardening our beauty regime has to adapt to keep up with the changes. So with caution I entrusted my baggy yeux to the steady hand of Sophie at Margot. Her salon is a dream, luxurious, serene with a gently soporific ambience.
She opted for the large roll (so my lashes didn’t get trapped under my sad upper lid I suspect). My eyes were closed throughout the process, making me feel a little vulnerable, well no need. Sophie explained every move she was making as she went; the solution, the fixer, the tint. Constantly checking on my … pulse … I’m kidding ….. just checking I was feeling comfortable and happy.
The results? Dark, gently upturned lashes, opening up tired eyes and dare I say, knocking a couple of years off the ageing process. Here I sit, mascara free and confident – yes, in broad daylight. I’m thrilled.
So next up? Might need to get a lower leg shrubbery moderation. Is my trust with Sophie for all things beauty now? Oh yes.