On approaching the saleswoman she informs you that the tinted moisturiser you’ve been using for five years isn’t made anymore, and it was probably, ‘too shiny for your complexion anyway’. You ask for the closest thing to it. Her clownish make up makes you nervous. Probably you’re suspicious of her because she’s like a high class witch, ruler of the special facial potions. She shows you a foundation but you can’t use it before a layer of primer. ‘Then there’s concealer for the greyness under your eyes and your blemishes...’
Fine, give me those.
‘But you must finish it off with powder, otherwise it won’t last.’
She dusts you off with the magic mineral powder and you look in the mirror to see a white ghost woman staring back at you. It is in fact you. I’m...a bit pale now don’t you think?
‘Oh we can fix that, it’s all about contouring’.
So this is the part where the woman adds back in colour to the places that your colours have been painted over in peach. Back at the mirror you’re still a fat angry feminist but this time with a Kim Kardashian face. Before you know it you’ve got your boyfriend’s credit card in your hand and two different kinds of application brushes.
I’ll take it, you hear yourself say. Witch woman, 1, you 0.
The fatal flower is the perverted shy girl, the one you wouldn’t suspect. Under a soft exterior lies a complex being with an unyielding wildness, anchored to the earth by her humble nature and inexplicable dry humour. She is the femme of now, the modern woman who’s thoughts transcend through cultures and time.
Over the coming months let ‘La Fleur Fatale’ be your guide to the hidden insights and stories of a watchful woman’s eye navigating through the ‘European’ way of life. Struggles and mishaps ensue as life is embraced and the thorny introvert femme clammers for life’s answers. All possible subjects are covered from death to Kim Kardashian and from sisterhood to the perfect strawberry frappe.
U zag deze toch ook?
- A fable
- Killer Heels
- You are already your mother
- Jesus died for somebodies sins, probably mine
- The Belgium Blow
- The Politics of the Urinal
- That time you found me on the bathroom floor eating a kebab
- The luxury of love
- The road not taken
- How you have known me since 1857
- Bright Light
- The Billboard
- My beautiful friend
- The Great Aznavour Admirer
- How to spend your Thursday at the Hague.
- The Show Must Go On