Blouse by YSL. From Vogue, June 1971. Photo by Peter Knapp
It reminds me of an occasion the other week, when a woman got on the train at the same time as me – and we ended up sitting across the table from each other. She flung her Easyjet ticket on the table, and started doing her make-up. She had about three make-up bags, which had all been poking out from various pockets on her suitcase (which clearly couldn’t be done up properly). I soon realised she was starting completely from scratch, intended to do a full job and also that she only had the time between Clapham Junction and Gatwick Airport in which to do it all. I tried not to stare, but I could almost hear the Countdown music going in my head and it was utterly fascinating.
The most I will do in public, usually, is a bit of a powder buffing and perhaps lipstick. Anything else, I would feel far too self-conscious. I wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without the make-up I needed to be wearing, unless I knew I could nip into the ladies somewhere en route. And that brings me back to this woman. Because she kept glaring at me. As though I shouldn’t be looking at her piling the slap on. Seriously? If you’re going to apply your maquillage on a crowded train, then you can’t expect everyone to demurely look away to protect your modesty.
She managed it, though, and I came very close to giving her a round of applause. Except she was still glaring at me and she looked a bit like Catherine Tate, which scared me as well. Ah well. Well done, random train make-up lady. Hope you enjoyed your weekend in Dublin!




































