I wanted to be professional makeup artist. This was around the middle school period, when I first started getting into my fashion & magazines addiction. When people were still reading teeny magazines, I was stacking up on Elle. Within these glossy pages, I became familiar with the faces that walked each runway during Fashion Week. Pretty soon, I could rattle off the names of any model if you pointed at them.
It seemed like such a glamorous life. I wanted to be surrounded by it. I didn't have the talent to be a fashion designer. And there was no way I would become one of those faces on stage. I wanted to be the one backstage, transforming bare faces into a piece of art.
My makeup collection grew and grew. I had drawers and boxes of shadows and glosses that I would use to practice on myself and my sisters. I would attempt to recreate looks I saw at the fashion shows. I read books about makeup artistry and seriously thought about it as a career.
I don't remember when that dream faded though. I think at some point I realized I didn't really have the artistic skills. So my path drifted to working at a magazine, as I do have some writing skills.
I thought about this today as I was reading Bobbi Brown's (the makeup artist) newest book "Makeup Manual". I became nostalgic about my old dream. It's a very helpful book, and teaches you both how to apply makeup and about being a makeup artist.
It makes me want to go out and enhance the beauty of this world.