curtain over my shoulders and put a deep pink Alice band on me. They called it an Alice band; I thought of it more as a headband that six-year-olds wear. Simonehanded me a deep pink handbag with a diamante clasp on it and Cary laid out a pair of low-heeled deep pink pumps for me to slip on. And then Julian did my make-up.
He said he was going to keep it natural, but it seemed like it took an awful lot of make-up to look like I wasn’t wearing any. He slicked on what felt like a whole pot of foundation, followed by powder and then a light pink blusher. I had to try and not blink while he poked my eye out with a mascara wand, or twitch while he carefully applied lip liner, before sloshing on a gallon or so of lip gloss.
“There,” he’d said, admiring his work. “As fresh as an English daisy.”
Interesting, I thought, because I didn’t feel fresh as a daisy. I felt quite a lot as if I had recently been dipped in concrete and left out in the sun to set solid.
Julian positioned me in front of a full length mirror and then stepped aside. “Tah-dah!”
Cary and Simone applauded.
I stared at myself, or at least I tried to, because I , always ever so slightly off-centre and scruffy me, wasn’t there. This immaculately turned out girl in fake pearl earrings was not me. Her skin looked flawless, her hair as shiny as a pane of glass and her outfit pristine and perfectly preppy.
“We’ll be coming with you to the show so we can make sure you stay as lovely all night, so don’t youworry,” Cary told me, repositioning a strand of hair that wasn’t to his liking.
I smiled carefully at the three of them, slightly nervous that my new face would crack and fall off. “Thank you,” I said. “The transformation is very…transforming.”
“That’s our Job, darling,” Julian said. “Sow’s ear into a silk purse. That’s why we’re the best.”
I was trying to work out if I should be insulted when I heard Jeremy calling me.
“Ruby?” His voice rose from below. “Your mother’s back from the salon. Come down and see her – you can exchange make overs!”
I knew my mum would never be able to believe how I looked and I was excited to show her. I would have run down the stairs, except it was hard to with a little dog yapping at my heels, threatening to trip me up at any moment. I didn’t properly see my mother until I was standing right in front of her. When I did finally focus on her it was a bit of a shock.
“Oh, Ruby, you look wonderful!” she said, in a voice that was not quite her own. “Quite the young lady.”
“Mother, what have you done to yourself?” I yelled in reply. For a split second David stopped yapping at me. Then, catching sight of my mother, started growling again, this time at her.
First it was her hair. Mum has nice light brown hair, quite thick and wavy that she wears shoulder length, and every now and then has highlights put in it. But now it was properly blonde, a bright shiny gold like the wrappers on chocolate coins. And instead of hanging down like hair is supposed to, because of the laws of gravity and all of that, it swirled outwards and up in big, overblown, hairsprayed curls that made her look about a foot taller.
Then there was her face. The smile lines around her eyes had gone and so had the “you’re in big trouble now” line between her brows. Her face looked as smooth as an egg, and as tight and immobile. That was except for her lips. Her normal Mum lips, the lips that kissed me goodnight every night for the last thirteen years, had ballooned out in what I can only describe as fish lips; lips that made her voice sound not quite like her own any more. The effect was made worse still by the bright red lipstick, a colour that clashed horribly with her extremely orange fake tan.
“I thought you were having your nails done!” I exclaimed. “Not…not all this… stuff! You don’t look like you any more!”
I watched my mum’s face fall, or at least I’m pretty
He said he was going to keep it natural, but it seemed like it took an awful lot of make-up to look like I wasn’t wearing any. He slicked on what felt like a whole pot of foundation, followed by powder and then a light pink blusher. I had to try and not blink while he poked my eye out with a mascara wand, or twitch while he carefully applied lip liner, before sloshing on a gallon or so of lip gloss.
“There,” he’d said, admiring his work. “As fresh as an English daisy.”
Interesting, I thought, because I didn’t feel fresh as a daisy. I felt quite a lot as if I had recently been dipped in concrete and left out in the sun to set solid.
Julian positioned me in front of a full length mirror and then stepped aside. “Tah-dah!”
Cary and Simone applauded.
I stared at myself, or at least I tried to, because I , always ever so slightly off-centre and scruffy me, wasn’t there. This immaculately turned out girl in fake pearl earrings was not me. Her skin looked flawless, her hair as shiny as a pane of glass and her outfit pristine and perfectly preppy.
“We’ll be coming with you to the show so we can make sure you stay as lovely all night, so don’t youworry,” Cary told me, repositioning a strand of hair that wasn’t to his liking.
I smiled carefully at the three of them, slightly nervous that my new face would crack and fall off. “Thank you,” I said. “The transformation is very…transforming.”
“That’s our Job, darling,” Julian said. “Sow’s ear into a silk purse. That’s why we’re the best.”
I was trying to work out if I should be insulted when I heard Jeremy calling me.
“Ruby?” His voice rose from below. “Your mother’s back from the salon. Come down and see her – you can exchange make overs!”
I knew my mum would never be able to believe how I looked and I was excited to show her. I would have run down the stairs, except it was hard to with a little dog yapping at my heels, threatening to trip me up at any moment. I didn’t properly see my mother until I was standing right in front of her. When I did finally focus on her it was a bit of a shock.
“Oh, Ruby, you look wonderful!” she said, in a voice that was not quite her own. “Quite the young lady.”
“Mother, what have you done to yourself?” I yelled in reply. For a split second David stopped yapping at me. Then, catching sight of my mother, started growling again, this time at her.
First it was her hair. Mum has nice light brown hair, quite thick and wavy that she wears shoulder length, and every now and then has highlights put in it. But now it was properly blonde, a bright shiny gold like the wrappers on chocolate coins. And instead of hanging down like hair is supposed to, because of the laws of gravity and all of that, it swirled outwards and up in big, overblown, hairsprayed curls that made her look about a foot taller.
Then there was her face. The smile lines around her eyes had gone and so had the “you’re in big trouble now” line between her brows. Her face looked as smooth as an egg, and as tight and immobile. That was except for her lips. Her normal Mum lips, the lips that kissed me goodnight every night for the last thirteen years, had ballooned out in what I can only describe as fish lips; lips that made her voice sound not quite like her own any more. The effect was made worse still by the bright red lipstick, a colour that clashed horribly with her extremely orange fake tan.
“I thought you were having your nails done!” I exclaimed. “Not…not all this… stuff! You don’t look like you any more!”
I watched my mum’s face fall, or at least I’m pretty
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