The
dark crimson lipstick glided effortlessly across her plump lower lip and she
enjoyed its consistency of Shea butter. She pursed her lips together, pressed
them lightly a few times back and forth to ensure the deep red was evenly spread.
Then, she fished out a minute pair of pink forceps from her closet and also a
transparent case containing a set of flamboyant lashes, resembling shrunken
replicas of peacock tails. Gingerly, she squeezed a thin streak of translucent
glue on the lashes' base and adjusted them with a few dexterous, precise moves. Her look was then
completed with the insertion of 2 electric blue contact lenses onto her
snow-hued sclera, shielding the lovely burnt sienna of her eyes. She looked at
herself in the mirror and barely recognized the lady staring back at her. There
she was, with pseudo-hollowed cheeks and a contoured bridge coupled with unnaturally
long lashes. The reflection’s saturated cyan eyes stared into her soul.
Everything that she witnesses captured in the 1.2x1.0m reflective surface is
unreal. She once adored the attention she received by setting the trends. She
absolutely loved it when people labeled her as a daring pioneer; she was the
Queen of Fad. But now, it all seemed so empty. Her soul is hollowed out, trying
to be different and have an edge over other people. It was a comparison of who
had the most outstanding features, who had the most eyeball-grabbing look. But
overtime it has morphed into a competition of who has the weirdest riot of
color on their faces, and honestly, it had not done her a single bit of good.
Slivers of the stage wash that illuminated her cheeks reveal the uneven
surfaces created by little bumps of pimples. Even the best concealer fails to
hide the effect of age, the tender lines conjugating to form a mermaid tail
along the corners of her eyes.
I’m
one year older, but not one year wiser, she thought to herself.
She
mulled over it, and thought about why she had gone into the modeling industry
in the first place and took a trip down memory lane where the floodgates of
yesteryear were unleashed. She thought about her idol, Audrey Hepburn. Her
almond shaped eyes and finely chiseled features formed in her mind. Hepburn’s
exquisite features and her charm that overwhelmed the stage in Roman Holiday
penetrated the 50 years’ worth of cultural and ideological differences. But it
had all seemed so different then and now. Hepburn had natural beauty and a
refreshing charisma that no one has. She had a fine frame, unlike her large
physique which made her very ashamed.
Well,
how about someone more recent, she pondered. As her eyes gazed heavenwards, she
thought about stars like Ariana Grande. It was as if god had packed the world’s
supply of sunshine into her soul. It radiates and glows wherever she goes, a
radical difference from her where she always faked it till she had made it.
Every single time on the run way is a nightmare worse than meeting a real life
Medusa. She fear that the audience’s comments may pierce her like how a curse
is inserted into the limbs and body of a voodoo doll. People are starting to detest
her. They label her as an oddball with a very eccentric sense of dolling up. It
tears through her and rips her into little pieces.
Just
then, the manager calls. The voice makes reverberates off the walls of her
inner ear.
“Phoebe,
it’s your turn on stage!”
She
squirms inside as she balanced on 15 inch cream heels with a matching outfit
armed with an attitude for war. She wore this air of confidence around her like
she never had and posed in her most cutting-edge positions. She smiles despite
the frowns cast at her from the audience. Once she was done, she splashed the
makeup off her face and crushed the contact lenses, disposing them into a
common bin along with her lashes. After all, she was no longer head over heels over fashion.
It was driving her crazy, she was losing herself, not knowing who she really
was inside. At the end of the day, she is only Phoebe, and she will always be. Fashion is
not really meant for everyone. Down the road, the ones who remain real
and true to themselves are the most captivating. And with that thought, she packed
up and leaved a resign letter on her table the next day, relieved finally that
she has found herself and how she has dumped a foolish decision.
Image source: http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1130/1274815691_73aff48e22.jpg
