My VH addiction was in full swing by the time I’d moved from Beijing to Soho and joined the 2.0N Club. It sounds like a cool nightclub for people who like carb free drinks instead of a foundation that looks invisible on the skin. Obsessing about getting my mitts on 2.0N is weird for me because the minute I wake up, I don’t put on make-up. My husband Dangerous insists that I look better without it. He’s never got over the time in Kiev when two nice girls I met in a cafe gave me a makeover. ‘You’d look quite pretty if you wore ten inches of panstick,’ Svetlana told me; while Verushka attacked me with gigantic false eyelashes and a can of superglue.
They just happened to have an enormous sack of slap with them; though they kept apologising for not having “ironware” to big up my disappointingly flat hair. Back at the grand hotel, I narrowly escaped being beaten up by the gentleman pimp who controlled the lobby. Not that anyone would have noticed a black eye, I was wearing enough kohl to be mistaken for a slapper panda on the pull. Despite my fear of being taken for a freelance trying to work without coughing up commission, I’ve been on the waiting list for Colours from the second guru Gill jumped on her podium and announced the amazing new products from The Ordinary.
I’d made the mistake of dithering for twenty minutes when Mastic Must was released. Did I need another face masque? Did I have time? I was using the orange one FM, the black one Myrrh Clay and the overnight one VM. Did I want to get even more gorgeous?! I’m already being stalked by teenage boys who want to know what school I go to. Can I cope with more not so secret admirers? I ended up 20 minutes later on that waiting list than I needed to be. And now Mastic Must, known as Death to Pores in my bathroom, is a daily fix. Twice a day if I’m confronting a rival. So I was making no mistake with Colours. But which colour? At those prices, I was tempted to buy them all.
I picked 2.0N because I’m not yellow or pink. And 1.0 might make me Goth Girl. Turns out everyone else picked 2.0N too. So the wait for that Colours will be even longer. So when guru Gill, the leader of the 2.0N Club, sent me an advance sample of Colours I was pure ecstatic. For about five minutes. Until I remembered that the path of true addiction never runs smooth. It was in the post, but I didn’t have my mitts on it yet. Creepy Neighbour was stealing my supply so I have to get my VH fix sent to Dangerous’s office which is under 24 hour armed guard. The place is so secure I can’t even collect my own products! I have to wait for him to bring them home. Waiting isn’t one of my talents.
So I persuaded Dangerous to go into the office on Saturday. I went with him, just in case he didn’t come straight home. But Colours was at the sorting office, closed until Monday, and Dangerous ignored my pleas for him to break in. He would only be stealing his own mail. But he wouldn’t put on the balaclava and vault the electric fence. On Monday I sent him in to work early after swearing not to follow him past security and loiter by the steel enforced mailroom until my VH box arrived. Security already think I’m a schoolgirl stalker, thanks to NIOD making me look about twelve. He “ran home” with the box at lunchtime but I persuaded him not to eat. I wanted to be alone when I finally got my mitts on Colours. I tried it. I loved it.
Invisible on the skin, it makes me look lit from within. The most amazing thing about this face perfector – apart from the price – is possibly the texture. It feels like I’m not wearing make up. My slapdash application wasn’t a problem either. It just blends into my NIOD-prepped skin. The SPF15 didn’t bring me out in a rash! I won’t have to prance about with my parasol this summer; though to be fair it doubles up as a chib. The best bit is that Dangerous doesn’t notice I’m wearing make-up. He asks, “Have you had one of your 14 hour sleeps?”