My skin is drowning in multiple shades of foundation, concealer, bronzer, blusher and highlighter.
Blinking feels like weight-lifting since I’m wearing a heavy strip of mascara-coated false eyelashes.
My mouth looks like Ronald McDonald’s: exaggerated with lip liner, then painted with ‘beige gold’ lipstick, before being topped up with a coat of gloss.
My short bob has been transformed into long, expertly curled locks that tumble over my shoulders, evoking the Van Dyck triptych of Charles I.
And don’t even