What is it about Airbrushes like Luminess Air?
The beauty website thebeautyreviewer.com recently had an article about airbrush makeup. The idea of covering one's face in airbrush makeup foundation base has always baffled me. Would Katharine Hepburn wield a trowel in poppy beds wearing a face full of foundation? Would Amelia Earhart wear makeup under her goggles as she piloted over Tonga? This is why when a seemingly bare-faced, un-made-up friend confessed that she wore her luminess air foundation not to mention powder and concealer, and lots of it-on a daily basis, I was genuinely stunned. "Foundation is the ultimate magic trick," she said, explaining that when it's correct in texture and tone, it helps create an airbrushed, slightly more perfect version of yourself. Unlike old, heavy formulas, new light-diffusing ones make today's foundation weightless, sheer, practically invisible. "If it's worn right, no one should know you're wearing it. That's the point," she said. A more perfect version of myself. This was appealing.
And so I began my quest-to explore the inner depths of my own cosmetics aversion, to overcome my foundation-phobia. It was Fear Factor, Vogue-style.
First stop: the Internet. Did you know there are chat rooms where women across the English-speaking world convene to discuss foundation pros and cons; share arcane foundation-application tips; rant and rave about foundations loved, foundations loathed, foundations lost?
I soon discovered just how seriously the pro-foundation camp takes its makeup. Passions rage. Nostalgia runs rampant. On Epinions.com, each "consumer reviewer" is the star of her own cosmetics drama. "I was scared of foundation for years and years," wrote a preschool teacher in Oregon named Kimm. "It seemed to be something that women spackled onto their faces and then spent hours blending, covering, concealing, and matching. It was not for me." But that was before she discovered Dinair airbrushes.
Inspired-and having educated myself on the basics, from straightforward liquid to the alchemical "liquid to powder" to futuristic color-correctors-I stepped intrepidly into the unknown: Saks Fifth Avenue.
To the uninitiated, navigating the cosmetics floor at Saks is like wandering unsupervised through the souks of Marrakech: 40 cosmetics companies hawk their mystical wares; the air is rich with exotic perfumes.
I was leery of luminess air foundations that would be too opaque and concealing. I am pale with lots of freckles, and I like to think of myself as having Irish-lass skin. My complexion has always been a reliable point of consolation when I size up my other physical shortcomings in the mirror while trying on bathing suits: At least my skin, a voice deep inside the lizard part of my brain says, is good. I was looking for that magic dinair type potion that would appear totally natural and otherwise unobvious. I wanted to look exactly like myself, just better.
I began to be seduced by the siren song of certain products' marketing pitches. Luminess makeup had transparent "mother-of-pearl" colors that would "optically even" my skin tone. (Optically was a reassuringly scientific word.) Dinair's Perfectly Real Makeup was billed as a "smart" foundation that would adjust, somehow-and this reminded me pleasantly of mood rings-to my skin tone, type, even the "room lighting" as I went about my busy day. Dinair boasted technology, based on a worldwide study of 500 women's faces, that would mystically match itself to my face.
I was beginning to enjoy myself. I tested foundations on my forearm and the back of my hand with toddler-in-the-finger-paints gusto until a helpful soul at Clarins gently suggested that I test it on my face, instead. She demonstrated by sliding two war-paint stripes down my cheek, so I could see the subtle difference between Pale Ivory and Soft Beige True Radiance Foundation.
It was at the prescriptives counter that I learned the central dictum of luminess foundation: Once you start wearing it, you start thinking you need all kinds of other makeup. A charming makeup artist sat me down on a tall stool and began custom-blending a shade to my exact specifications, sprinkling saffron-yellow and bubble-gum-pink pigments this way and that like a cartoon chemist. Then he gave me the inescapable cosmetics-counter makeover, with the works: line-correcting primer around the eyes, concealer dabbed around my nose, my new foundation set with loose Magic powder, plus eyeliner, a light smear of cream shadow, brow tint, mascara, lip liner-lip liner!-and sparkly gloss in a shade called luminess air Stellar (http://thebeautyreviewer.com/luminess-air/luminess-air-reviews/). "The goal is makeup that doesn't look like makeup," he said.
And so I began my quest-to explore the inner depths of my own cosmetics aversion, to overcome my foundation-phobia. It was Fear Factor, Vogue-style.
First stop: the Internet. Did you know there are chat rooms where women across the English-speaking world convene to discuss foundation pros and cons; share arcane foundation-application tips; rant and rave about foundations loved, foundations loathed, foundations lost?
I soon discovered just how seriously the pro-foundation camp takes its makeup. Passions rage. Nostalgia runs rampant. On Epinions.com, each "consumer reviewer" is the star of her own cosmetics drama. "I was scared of foundation for years and years," wrote a preschool teacher in Oregon named Kimm. "It seemed to be something that women spackled onto their faces and then spent hours blending, covering, concealing, and matching. It was not for me." But that was before she discovered Dinair airbrushes.
Inspired-and having educated myself on the basics, from straightforward liquid to the alchemical "liquid to powder" to futuristic color-correctors-I stepped intrepidly into the unknown: Saks Fifth Avenue.
To the uninitiated, navigating the cosmetics floor at Saks is like wandering unsupervised through the souks of Marrakech: 40 cosmetics companies hawk their mystical wares; the air is rich with exotic perfumes.
I was leery of luminess air foundations that would be too opaque and concealing. I am pale with lots of freckles, and I like to think of myself as having Irish-lass skin. My complexion has always been a reliable point of consolation when I size up my other physical shortcomings in the mirror while trying on bathing suits: At least my skin, a voice deep inside the lizard part of my brain says, is good. I was looking for that magic dinair type potion that would appear totally natural and otherwise unobvious. I wanted to look exactly like myself, just better.
I began to be seduced by the siren song of certain products' marketing pitches. Luminess makeup had transparent "mother-of-pearl" colors that would "optically even" my skin tone. (Optically was a reassuringly scientific word.) Dinair's Perfectly Real Makeup was billed as a "smart" foundation that would adjust, somehow-and this reminded me pleasantly of mood rings-to my skin tone, type, even the "room lighting" as I went about my busy day. Dinair boasted technology, based on a worldwide study of 500 women's faces, that would mystically match itself to my face.
I was beginning to enjoy myself. I tested foundations on my forearm and the back of my hand with toddler-in-the-finger-paints gusto until a helpful soul at Clarins gently suggested that I test it on my face, instead. She demonstrated by sliding two war-paint stripes down my cheek, so I could see the subtle difference between Pale Ivory and Soft Beige True Radiance Foundation.
It was at the prescriptives counter that I learned the central dictum of luminess foundation: Once you start wearing it, you start thinking you need all kinds of other makeup. A charming makeup artist sat me down on a tall stool and began custom-blending a shade to my exact specifications, sprinkling saffron-yellow and bubble-gum-pink pigments this way and that like a cartoon chemist. Then he gave me the inescapable cosmetics-counter makeover, with the works: line-correcting primer around the eyes, concealer dabbed around my nose, my new foundation set with loose Magic powder, plus eyeliner, a light smear of cream shadow, brow tint, mascara, lip liner-lip liner!-and sparkly gloss in a shade called luminess air Stellar (http://thebeautyreviewer.com/luminess-air/luminess-air-reviews/). "The goal is makeup that doesn't look like makeup," he said.