You know when sometimes you have a realisation about something very odd that you do, and you wonder if anyone else does it, or is maybe strange yet common but it's just that no one dare speaketh of it?
No?
Don't have those moments?
Kay cool. But someone has to provide the conversation here or it would be a very dull blog indeed, so here's mine: I can not put on makeup unless I am wearing the shoes I will be wearing with said makeup.
I realised this yesterday, when after several attempts at bad, wrong, messy eye make up, I realised that my feet were aching, and that it was probably due to the fact that six cm heels adorned my feet that they felt this way. And yet, the idea of taking them off was not an option. Because I don't feel right making up my face unless I know my state of being for the day, and like most fools of the female gender, that state of being comes in the shape of foot wear.
See, I feel entirely different wearing a pair of ballet slippers as I do wearing wild platform heels, or fierce black ankle boots, or incredible strappy ankle-wobblers. It's a psychological thing, y'know? There's a savage gay man on my floor who claims only lesbians wear flats, and that I should never demote my already teeny stature with such diabolical foot wear, and even though I know that to be a farce, I can't help feeling far more sexy, and way more powerful in a pair of outstanding heels over a pair of sweet flats.
I guess it's that if I dress and put on my shoes before I do my makeup, I already know what will be happening up there on my mug. I know my theme for the day. If I'm taking a trip to Sexy Woman town with a pair of wicked heels, the face will reflect it: It may be a smoky eye, or it may be a power lip, but what it won't be is the tinted moisturiser/cheek creme/gloss mix I reserve for Trainers and Jeans Sunday. It just won't.
Can't really explain it; know it's madness, but it's what I do and if you're still reading this you're either bored and one seek.com surf away from a new job, or you're in the same strange little rowboat and are nodding and smiling in a way that'll make your workmates shake their heads.
Got your own stupid grooming ritual?
Sharing is caring, fruits.
