I've often referred to my rather cozy apartment in the West Village as resembling a gift shop with a bed in it. What can I say? I like stuff. So every countertop, windowsill, mantlepiece, bookshelf, table top becomes a tableau of ivory or turquoise antique pottery, sweet grass baskets of seashells and beach glass, milagro-covered items from Mexico and Sante Fe, stacks of coffee table books and glossy magazines, vases of fresh flowers and loads of scented candles from Diptyque or Cire Trudon.
In other words, the anti-Viagra for any male who might wander in. (Even Petey volunteered to be neutered after a few months living here.)
Multiply that by about 20 and you have my bathroom...
Okay, now let me remind you that I live in a one-bedroom apartment in New York City - smallish by national standards, palatial in NYC. Three big closets plus a walk-in closet. (But a kitchen that until a recent renovation as referred to as "Britney Spears" because it had no drawers.)
Storage space is at a premium. Especially in the bathroom.
So here are my bathroom confessions...literally a TOWER of makeup. Oh, and I should add, I sorted out the more summery colors back in September.
"Certainly there must be a basket or two of hair products and brushes in there?" you may be asking.
Nope. The Hair Basket is on top, out of frame. And given that I've recently cut my hair and the longest piece is maybe 5"please don't ask me to explain why I need a half dozen brushes of assorted shapes, sizes and materials and at least as many hair products within arm's reach and available at all times!?!?
I'm actually quite organized, I mean, I don't have my mascaras arranged by depth of blackness or my blushers arranged alphabetically. But I do have similar products living together. Which eliminates the worry that I'll brush olive green eyeshadow across my cheekbones (unless Lisa tells me to) or make the mistake an elderly travel companion/former model once made -- mistaking a deep red lipstick liner for an eyebrow pencil. Now that's how to make a real style statement going through Customs!
I don't ever actually use this towel - I just keep it around as a reminder for houseguests....
Okay...cue the "dun, dun, DUN - cymbal crash" music... here's the inside of the medicine cabinet - a horrible misnomer as you can just barely spy a half-empty bottle of cold medicine on the middle shelf.
And please remember...a dozen professional estheticians don't live here. Just one Cairn terrier who gets bi-annual grooming and me.
Okay - here's the tour. Ground floor - cleansing products, daytime serum, moisturizer, evening serum, night cream, etc.
Second floor. Welcome to scrubs and masks (or masques, depending where I bought them!) It's like Halloween every day of the week. Please note deodorant to the right, semi-qualifying this as a medicine cabinet.
Third floor — assorted powders, bronzers, concealers and foundations.
Attic - overflow.
Bonus points: if you can spot the Becca Shimmering Skin Perfector in Pearl.
I have a thing for mermaids and sirens. Found this little coconut-headed beauty down in a little coastal town in Mexico and had to bring her home. If I look like her, I know I need to tone down my blusher.
And speaking of blending, here is the previously described brush collection. I think PETA would be after me if they ever laid eyes on that much animal hair. (I tell myself it was all collected painlessly during shedding season, when the brush makers enter the animal pens wearing black corduroys and matching cashmere sweaters and gather the loose hair with lint brushes.)
Here's another fascinating confession. I have dozens of beautifully wrapped scented soaps, and yet I use body wash rather than bars. Discuss.
Gotta have a second mirror to check out that eyeliner, right? Or so you don't drop false eyelashes into the sink?
Finally, the other woman I share the bathroom with (clearly another fan of blusher) that I found last December, after seeing a display of these charming ladies in the holiday windows at Bergdorf Goodman.
She and her sisters are made from old cosmetic cannisters - even lipstick cases! - with china heads that were found outside a doll factory, apparently they buried the faulty ones. I love thinking that she was once a reject and now she's a work of art.
That makes me feel so much better when I go a little overboard with my blusher...