My latest moisturiser is specially formulated to reduce shine, or, as the French packaging says, “pour neutraliser la brillance”. Obviously, that’s what we all want. Can’t have too much of the old “brillance”. Who knows, you might just blind someone.
Now of course, it’s not that I like having oily skin and pores the size of moon craters. Of course I don’t. That’s why I buy this stuff. Still, the phrase “neutraliser la brillance” somehow hits a nerve. I realise it’s just a faux ami (as are all my cosmetics) but the thought of “neutralising brilliance” — engaging in out-and-out blandification — is never far from my mind when I’m slapping on my latest potion.
Of course, it’s not just the blandness of it all. It’s the reduction of out-and-out failure to desperate, expensive mediocrity. Is it better to look like every other miserable sod who’s “making an effort” – doing the whole “Real Woman” thing, accepting one’s limitations, knowing that while one can’t polish a turd one can at least smother it in concealer – or to go out in a blaze of open-pored, grease-ridden glory?
I don’t know. Still waiting for the day when mega-pores become a sign of beauty, when I’ll fill mine with highlighter and dazzle dust. In the meantime, I’ll keep applying the Effaclar in the hope that it stops me shining.