I used to love shopping, you know? When I was a girl, we’d go out, my mates and me, and we’d spend hours – hours – trying out lipsticks. Sixteen years old and we knew it all: the right angle, the exact shade to pick. You know how it is at that age, don’t you? It’s all yours and you’re fearless, with all the time in the world. Daft, really.
Now. Now I look like my Mum, God love her. Oh, I’ve kept up. I look good – for my age. You just need the right products, that’s all – hydrating, anti-ageing, filler, concealer, serum – as if ageing is a disease. As if there’s a cure. If that girl could see me now, making such an effort just to…pass. And it’s not cheap either, the prices these days. I do love a good lipstick though, I always have. A good dark red, rich and strong. Because I am not going bloody quietly. We knew it all: the right pose, the right angle, the exact moment to drop a lipstick into your bag. It was all part of the fun. It still is, to be honest. Because I am not going bloody quietly.