Mudlark Poster No. 27 (2000)

Catherine Daly

Catherine Daly, in the third person, "currently lives in Los Angeles. She has a company called e.g. When she began teaching UCLA Extension's online poetry workshop, she began publishing online. Finally, she has poetry at MUDLARK. More online poetry is linked to http://members.aol.com/cadaly, which means one of her e-mail addresses must be cadaly@aol.com."

Make Up

Lipstick | Colorway | I Could Have Danced All Night
Maybelline is L'Oréal is Lancôme | Galactic Glow | Science
Scent | Perfume | Gloss | Note

24 Hour Red replaced All Day Red until Cherry replaced it.
100% Red became Extravagant; Amorous, Lasting.
Famous is merely Prolonged. Kissed turned Passionate.
Butternut evolved through Chocolate Creme and Chocolate to Brownie.
Apricot turned into Peach, but so did Berry.

Autumn Red turned to Fine Wine as did Cognac.
Come to find out, Autumn Red had been Bordeaux.
Even Extravagant Red became Fine Wine.
Forbidden Wine turned Smooth Wine before it, too, became Fine.

Autumn Wool and Cinnamon Raisin together are Buttered Rum.
While Better Brandy became Best Brown,
Brandy Dipped was Demi Wine briefly before Aubergine.

Berried Treasure cum Rose Fire was Harvest Wine, then Pretty,
which also converged Blossom and Azalea (not Azalea Blossom),
Cairo Rose and Endless Garnets, Frostiest Red and Majestic Magenta,
Rich Magenta and Windy Rose, Rich Rose, Rose Fire,
Park Ave Orchids, Plush Wine, and Satin Wine.
Everyone wants to be Pretty.

Cosmetic color is categorized into marketable trends.
Meetings among cosmetic companies decided
this Spring is "Sun," just had sun written all over it,
said sun somehow.

This Spring, Revlon's light red lipstick and matching nail polish,
line namesakes, are SUNSPARK.
Pink is SUNFLASH; red, SUN UP;
and coral, TANG-Y.

Colors are arrayed in cardboard-and-plastic displays
with other cosmetics in like colorways
at drug or department store entrances.

Max Factor is the original movie star lipstick.
Their lipstick museum is currently closed for makeover.
Harking back to its history in an attempt at revival,
a movie makeup artist getting to know Anna and the King,
The King and I remade, designed and signed Electric Sunset.
The displays have a flying plastic center piece
which recalls floating staircases in Busby Berkley films,
fanning lip glow gloss pots

                              eclat rosé
                        pink rush
                  lueur naturelle
            natural glow
      rose velours
sheerly pink

Maybelline is girl-next-door American, despite its leading brand,
Moisture Whip. Hey, I'm not naming this stuff.
Whip's a classic.

HydraTime, a wetter version of Moisture Whip,
has adjectival colors.
Campy, Cyber, Eccentric, Fearless, Feisty, Racy, Saucy, Witty, and Delicious
are all too dark for me.
They'd look like black lipstick on me,

not that I haven't worn black lipstick and matching nail polish,
but I preferred white mascara and lipstick
coordinated to a white vinyl jacket
and go go boots or pointy-toed white spike-heeled boots
with silver skull and crossbones buckles.
Adoring, Aloof, Delicate, Dizzy, Dreamy, Flippant, Girlie, Surreal,
and Crush, not an adjective, suit my coloring.

If you cut my head off, perhaps my new lips
would prefer 18 of the 60 shades of Moisture Whip.

This season, Sweet Mystique is for blondes.
East Mystique is for brunettes. Only brunettes are exotic.
All blondes at the makeup counter have blue eyes.
Maybe she's born with it.

L'Oréal is upper class drugstore makeup.
This Spring, their lines are tied to Astrology Sun Signs.

Sunrise represents the male fantasy that the perfect woman
wakes up looking like she's wearing makeup but not wearing any.
L'Oréal terms this fantasy "sheer." If the makeup's sheer,
it can "evoke the dewy freshness of an early morning."

There's predictable Sunshine.
Sunset is romantic, which means blurry.
Monet would be pleased. Each time of day has a palette.

Lancôme asks us to believe in beauty.
Its lip gloss has movie star colors, Rita, Ava, Marilyn.

My beauty horoscope says I'm having a boring month,
but that at least the names of my makeup can be exotic:
Tandoori, Toast of the Town, Smoke & Mirrors.
My party style says Radiant Red,
my personal style says Toasted Almond,
and my makeup life says Cinnamon.

CG's taken a break from the marketing bloc:

At the 99¢ Store, home of unpopular tints and shades,
three racks of Blue Parfait (bleu parfait),
identical to Cosmic Blue, coordinate with
Maybelline Blooming Colors Sultry Blue and Sea Teal eye pencils.

Do they write off the cost of manufacture for blue lipstick
that completes a marketing gambit?

The most successful woman aesthetician brings you futurist
eye makeup,
simultaneously
skin care and cosmetic,
warning "actual colors may vary."

The pseudo palettes are everywhere on display.
In a drugstore, there are few testers,
and these are full of fingerprints.

Applying makeup to the back of your hand
is no longer a test.
We no longer wear gloves.
The skin on the inside
of your wrist
more closely matches your face.

In department stores, personally-applied sales pressure
accompanies samples. Clinique was first
to put its aestheticians in lab coats, to appear scientific.

Larger companies relying on spa
and department store distribution
give free samples, "gift with purchase," or "purchase with purchase."
Rarely are these gifts the same quality as the line.
Elizabeth Arden promotional nail polish
turned my fingernails yellow,
necessitating purchase
of more nail color.

I searched for my signature scent behind The Red Door.
I don't mind their yellow fragrance,
sunflowers, sunshine, whatever.
As you may know, your signature scent represents
your true essence.

I use a quiz to deduce my personality from product choices.
My dream weekend? Well, I've always wanted to go to Rio,
and would promise to wear a modest American swimsuit on the beach
if that'd get me there sooner.

New York, well, I've lived there.
Returning isn't getting away.

I guess my dream weekend is "getting away."
Paris in Spring and Big Sur are my other choices.
Big Sur would be close if I don't have to drive.

Next, I choose one of the four traditional elements.
No wood. "Water" is the default.

My perfect dinner includes... chili peppers.
I'm to pick a bag and jewelry, too.
Maybe my accessory personality involves a makeup inventory?
I'm happiest when I'm not carrying a bag at all,
although at least metaphorically, I am one.
I pick a tiny jeweled evening bag,
though I probably would choose a briefcase if that was a choice,
as I'm a shlepper, descended from babushkas.

The answer key didn't recommend the scent I wanted,
so I worked on my signature.
I made all the sentimental choices (flowers, fire, chocolate, Paris in Spring),
but no. The healthy, active choices (beach bag, fruit) didn't work.
Could I be discontinued?

Spots for dabbing perfume:

ankles
behind knees
between thighs
bosom (bosom?)
throat
back of neck
wrists
crook of elbow

not behind ears.

At first, Strawberry. Then,
Dr. Pepper—marketing tie-in—not Mr. Pibb.

Cosmic flavors Orange Sh-Orbit
(a bit forced, no?), Martian Mallow, etc.
are basic flavors with different names.
One tube can contain more than one flavor.
I think that explains Strawberry Kiwi.

The Jewel line, Diamond Icing, Turquoise Sprinkle Cake,
Creamy Dreamy Pearl,
matches semi-precious birth stones,
August › peridot › Peach Peridot,
perfect for giving, or keeping, they're thinking.
Lines are designed to be collectibles
rather than just gloss, since
one buys more gloss if one's not using it.