A supposed beauty flaw, 100 francs and a mission: make yourself up so that nobody can see it.
A question of age
Bye bye darkness my old friend
If you can't love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else! Can I get an amen?
RuPaul, Drag-Legende
Amen. So away with the dark shadow. As a passionate documentary filmmaker, I record the self-experiment on video. Natalie suggests a "no make-up make-up" look. In other words, a make-up look where you can't see that I'm wearing make-up. The idea turns into a challenge: each of us is given a budget of 100 francs to buy the products we need. Later, we try to apply make-up as naturally as possible with what we've got.
Since the dawn of mankind, everyone has commented on my dark circles under my eyes. The primary school kids: "The panda bear is coming." The teachers: "Was your homework too hard?" My ex-girlfriend: "Have you been smoking too much weed? I'm breaking up with you!" Or nonchalantly at eight o'clock in the morning at work: "Wow, you look tired again today." Statements like these scratch at my self-absorption, which I owe to my fresh, youthful appearance. A mixture of Asian genes and the ice-cold Thurgau spring water that I drizzle on my face every morning. Pharell Williams taught me that.
I was recently estimated to be 26 at the age of 35. 26! Five years too old. The magic number was always 21, because it's called forever 21 and not forever 35. What happened? Is my job as a video editor at Galaxus more of an ordeal than a joy? And while I blame my employer, I also find my saviour: Natalie Hemengül. Editor, experienced beauty blogger and the good-natured soul of the editorial team. Because after hours of binge-watching "RuPaul's Drag Race" and "Glow up" on Netflix, I too want to get rid of my dark circles under my eyes and, in true beauty slang style, "slay", be "fierce" and listen to complete strangers shouting "You go guuuurl" after me. Nati helps me with that.
Me at my sweet sixteen party
Two years later.
As a make-up novice, I do my research first, then it's off to the Galaxus shop. It seems to me that the sky is the limit. I could probably buy a thousand things with a hundred francs. Not. Five items later, I'm already at 97 francs. I'm totally overwhelmed, so from then on I just rely on my gut feeling. I opt for products whose names describe me: "Master Prime", "Fite me!", "der Löscher", "Sensational" and "Original". As soon as I have decided on a product, more question marks follow: Am I even ordering the right colours for my skin tone? Am I sweet like "18 Raw Chocalate" or "04 Honey"?
While I enthusiastically pose for the after picture as if it were the photos for my imaginary set card, the excitement of presenting my new self to the world builds. Back in the office, I s-m-i-s-e (smile with your eyes) my way back to the desk. No reaction. I sit on the tram, greeting my fellow passengers with my glow. No reaction. Back home in my flat share, I slay through the living room. No reaction. But then the reaction the next day when my work colleague asks me if I've slept enough. I go to the toilet and look in the mirror. There it is, the reaction. An allergic one. My eyes are puffy. I'm told later that I should have wiped the make-up off in the evening before going to bed. So much effort for a natural look that our society perceives as such? I'd rather leave it alone in future and say: Hello darkness my old friend.
