Showing posts with label touching up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label touching up. Show all posts

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

Touching up men

I see Yves Saint Laurent has launched a version of Touche Eclat for men, so we too can conceal those dark, under-eye circles that result from our reckless round-the-clock lifestyles and lack of sleep.

Now we too can look fresh and sparkling after a quick application of the wonder potion our womenfolk have been surreptitiously dabbing on for years. All in a discreet “pewter tube that’s easy to stow in your man-bag”.

Well, not me, you understand, I no longer lead a reckless round-the-clock lifestyle. In fact I never did, I always preferred the comforts of my duvet to drunken chatter in the small hours.

But aren’t we rather missing the point here? Instead of plastering ourselves with miracle repair creams, shouldn’t we be reining in the lifestyle a bit to something less gruelling? Anyway, what’s wrong with signs of wear and tear? It just shows we’re normal human beings.

One newspaper interviews a few likely users. Gerald, 27, admits he works 10 to 12 hours a day and likes late nights. Clement, 21, says he works up to 12 hours a shift and sometimes gets only four hours’ sleep. Hey, how about slowing down the treadmill, lads, and taking it a bit easier? What exactly are you getting out of those 12-hour-a-day jobs?

But some of them admit they might use the stuff if they’re looking a bit dishevelled. That is, if they can figure out how to apply it without getting it everywhere except under their eyes. “How the heck do women do this?” wails one of them plaintively after several abortive attempts to get it in the right place.

Personally, at my venerable age (“Approaching sixty from the wrong direction” as Dame Edna once put it) I need rather more than a quick smear of Touche Eclat to refresh my disintegrating features. I think a full restoration by a master builder would be more effective. Not that I have any problem with wrinkles. Each wrinkle is a trace of fun, as they say.

So, girls, if your beau beats a hasty retreat to the restaurant toilet in the middle of that Italian meal, he’s not necessarily stocking up on condoms. He might just be reviving his weary eyes in case you doubt his nocturnal vigour. That is, if you aren’t in the toilet doing the same thing.

Photo: Stuart Pilkington from Big Brother