Milk & Manolos

I’ve always been the girl with panda eyes. No matter what, circ 11.58 am there I am, black marks under my eyes where yet another mascara as let me down. Since motherhood has ajusted my emotional dial to high (I can often be found crying at embarassingly sentimental things - the recent SMA advert a point in case) it’s became imperrative that I find a mascara suitable for whatever the day throws at me.

Embarking on a long and ardious journey of trial and error, I found myself risking £ 18.50 (I know, I WAS that desperate) on Blinc’s miracle mascara. Perporting to ‘tube’ the lashes I simply had to give this baby a try. Not only waterproof, this is everything proof. I was utterly sold on it at 11.59 am when I glanced in the mirror to find a fresh faced me staring back.

This is so good, that only a good wash of the face, and some gentle pressure (fear not!) combined will rid me of my lucious lashes for yet another day. Removal isn’t the easiest thing, I must warn, but once you’ve mastered the knack, you’ll never look back.

Some are born with good hair, others are quite simply not. Within that scale I’m not entirely sure where I fit … yes, there is hair, tick. Always a good starting point. The problem is that it’s never been as full as I’d have liked, and since the Munchkin’s arrive it seems to have a permanent demi wave, the kind that looks like you’ve just taken your hair out of a pony tail.

I long to be the kind of woman who blow dries her hair. The intention is there but for some reason it just never seems to happen. There’s no doubt it would provide some much needed glamour but a) I’ve never mastered the skill and b) despite my best endeavours it’s often something that doesn’t even feature on the radar of my ablutions.

My wonderful hairdresser, K at Windle has introduced me to the lazy girls hair care regime and I’m lovin’ it.

Over the years I’ve learnt that your hair is one of the things to spend money one. If you’ve got good hair and a decent accessories you can get away with a lot. My quarterly investment in the former is a cut and colour at my favourite salon. For the first time ever I’ve had highlights so expertly done that I can wait 3 months before returning. He’s even offered to teach the Husband how to blow-dry. Oh, how I dream about the possibility of this becoming a reality.

Because of K’s expertise I’m able remain a wash and go kinda girl - on my journey of self-discovery I’ve come to realise that I ain’t ever gonna be as bouffed as I’d have liked, but that’s ok. With K by my side, who needs daily attention ?

When I was small I remember my face cream loving mother having a leaflet outlining 101 uses for Vaseline. Oh, how I wish I’d squirrelled that leaflet away.

I’ve always been a fan of this beauty staple - a pot placed firmly on my desk and in my bag to ensure permanently lubricated lips. It’s uses however don’t stop there. Following a horrible trip in a badly lit lift just the other day, and noticing lines previously undetected, I turned to my trusty petroleum jelly for comfort.

Rumour has it that Marilyn Monroe herself was a devotee. Following in her footsteps I’d been reliably informed of it’s suitability as a night cream. Of course my love for Bio Oil is long lasting so I’ve taken to mixing the two together and am currently enjoying the results.

Sadly that dog-eared leaflet is long gone, but ebeautydaily has reminded me of the versality of my little greasy friend. All this for under a Pound, you really can’t go wrong with this investment.

My last tip ? Place it well away from Munchkins. Mine has been caught with her hand in the cookie jar on a number of occasions. While I applaud her skin care regime, I could do without all over my bed clothes and carpet thank you very much.

Ladies, now’s the time for courage and strength, we’re going to have to brave it … red lipstick is IT for the Season. If Vogue says it’s a must have, then we must follow.

Always a little shy of the red lipstick look myself, I’m prepared to give it a go. The sad thing is that I’m such a clutz … it’s entirely possible that I could unwittingly have it smeared across my face, let alone that of my small child. As for the Husband, let’s not even go there.

In the interests of fashion I’m going to brave it one more time, and this is the time to do it.

MAC, Chanel and Lipstick Queen all have some great reds in for the season. Talk about prepared.

Remember, she who dares, wins …

Grease is a good thing. I say that as someone who rarely has enough of it. Fortunately the Husband has excess, so in the end everything equals out. Opposites attract as they say.

Elizabeth Arden’s Eight Hour Cream is a beauty bag staple, and one no man, woman nor child should be without. Known as a miracle cream to soothe minor skin irritations it’s consistently ten out of ten in any test. Having used it for the last decade I can proudly add to it’s testimonial.

Like a funny smelling Vaseline, Eight Hour Cream’s uses are diverse. Since learning about it from an ex-boyfriend (who promised me his mother had passed the tip onto him) I’ve used it to tame flyaway hairs, ease my chapped lips, as an in flight moisturiser (my particular favourite), as a night cream, and to treat sunburn. Not bad for £ 20.

I long to be the girl with the perma tanned, svelte, hairless legs that I see en route to one of my occasional places of work. Mine on the other hand are pale and more often than not little on the hairy side. I like to think I make a little bit more of an effort in the summer when someone may actually see my pins but in the winter I can let my standards slide, if just a little.

Needless to say, epilation is an essential part of life for any self-respecting lady. We all have our favourite methods and hence I can proudly say I’ve not shaved my legs for 15 years. I wasn’t terribly good at it, frequently pressing my blunted razor far harder than was good for either of us. It was at this point that my mother gave me my first Epilady.

Undoubtedly a form of torture I remember fondly how she helped me deal with the inexplicable pain it caused. 2 aspirins and a brandy can’t be good for you, but they don’t half help you on the road to smooth legs. It took at least two painful sessions (my mother wielding the damn contraption while I screamed in pain, pulling taught the red pimpled skin on my legs) to get up to just the knee. Fortunately for us all, epilators have moved forward a very long way in that time.

Following my early experience waxing became my primary method of hair removal. This of course was fine when I had the time and inclination to schlep to the beauticians of a Saturday to ensure a perfectly hair free existence. Particularly since the Munchkin’s arrival however time is of the essence and I had spent one to many a summers day in jeans because I simply daren’t show my old Ham & Eggs. That’s when I rediscovered the old epliator and Ladies, I haven’t looked back.

It’s been a whole different story second time around. After years of waxing my follicles, I’m pleased to say, are shot, so removal of the scanty patches of hair I have is so much easier and quicker. The machines themselves are far high tech too - cutting down on the painful side of this option. So much so, I now even to my bikini line. Too much information ?

I’m currently loving my BraunSilk Xelle. I now have my skills honed to a tea, and managed to create hair free legs yesterday in less than ten minutes. And let’s not forget the savings on beautician’s bills, which over the course of a year can add up.

The only thing to think about now is their colour but as they’re currently in hibernation I’m going to take my time on that one.

The Munchkin, on the whole, is a pretty good sleeper - I have Gina Ford to thank for that. There is however the odd occasion when she simply refuses to comply with Ms. Ford’s regime. These are the nights we dread. Usually some strange magnetic force means they of course occur on the one single night of the year that we need to get a good nights sleep.

Back in the early nineties I invested £ 18 at the Clarins counter of Dickens and Jones (RIP), and have never looked back. True, it was then a night on the tiles I was trying to disguise, but the effects are the same - it hides the Munchkin’s insomnia like no other. Where I rely upon a good strong cappuccino to get the brain going, Clarins Beauty Flash Balm is equally reliable at sorting out my face. It brings the back the colour to those tired old cheeks, and just gives everything a tweak. Believe me, it helps hide the bags wonderfully. So much so, I even managed to get a wolf whistle on the way to work the other day. Where once upon a time I’d have shot them THE look, I now wave gratefully. God, I really am turning into my mother.

Eyes are the windows to our souls, or so we’re told. If you’re not big into maqueage, then there’s a quick and simple way to finish off your look - beautifully manicured eyebrows. Should you be a fan of the old war paint, I suspect that you may have discovered this trick around the time you picked up your first Kohl pencil.

Since the Munchkin’s arrival my ablution time has been somewhat concertinaed of a morning. Without a doubt, best endeavours are made, but it doesn’t always happen. At least with tidy eyebrows I feel a little better about myself, and a look a little less like Denis Healy. I fear the poor Munchkin will follow in her mother’s footsteps. Of course it would be wholly inappropriate for me to address the issue now, but I’ll be ready a for that day in 13 years time, tweezers at the ready.

THE woman to see is Vaishaly Patel (51 Paddington Street, W1. 020 7224 6088). It doesn’t come cheap mind. My mother has a theory that money should always be spent on a good haircut “because you wear it every day”. This can easily be applied to my tufts of madness that some might call eyebrows. All too frequently they sit bushily above my old blues. I hope for your sake you’ve been more blessed in that department.

If the budget doesn’t extend to Vaishaly, check out Eyebrowz for tips and accessories that before reading this, you just wouldn’t believed existed. There’s even the opportunity to copy your favourite film stars brow. You can’t ask for much more than that …

Ok, I’ll admit it. Pre-Munchkin I used Creme de la Mere. I know, I can hear the sharp intake of breath. The inaugural pot was from my Mother who, as an official OAP and self-confessed face cream junkie, was keen to do all she could to help preserve the youth of her daughter. It wasn’t entirely altruistic - as she was beginning to decrease her age on what seemed like a monthly basis, mine was steadily creeping up. If she wasn’t careful I was going to be the unravelling of her ever shrinking age.

So there I was, Christmas many moons ago unwrapping the Don of all face creams, or so I thought. I used it lovingly, truly believing that we were made for one another. That was until 22 months ago when suddenly spending £ 100 on a tub of face cream became absurd.

I admit, I lost my way for a while and desperately searched the counters at all well known department stores for a new match. It alluded me.

It then suddenly it all came together. Someone recommended Bio Oil to me. It can be used for just about anything - ageing and dry skin, not to mention stretch marks and scars. Not great admitably for day use, and particularly hostile towards my stable tricks from Mac, lovingly collected over the years - I thought I’d try it as a night ‘cream’. From that moment on, I’ve never looked back. NEVER have I had so many comments about my skin and boy does it smell good. That kind of smell where you never want to stop breathing in.

Now THIS is the perfect match, and at a fraction of the cost. Needless to say we’re very happy together and in it for the long haul.