They're real, sometimes a mess, trying to be their best, and embracing beauty. They all have inspired styles from Super Glam to Simply Highlighted. We need a little bit of that in our make-up bags. We love kits because they have just what you need to for the inspired look. Sitting pretty on your way to the store or stopping traffic when you are going to meet your squad.
You're Never BASIC! Neither is The Squad. Milan, Sierra, and Frenchy Celebrate Beauty.
We Love a Glow Up
Fall in Love with The Squad. Here's an excerpt from an upcoming Beauty and the City Chapter Magazine:
Covert Operation 1
I watched the landscapes go by, tuning out the faces of the people sharing the train with me. I was on the Metro-North, to Connecticut, my first time. There were a lot of firsts going around lately. Life was to be lived. I wasn’t a hard type of girl. Most of the girls I met at shoots had dated photographers or other models, men who were in their twenties, thirties, and even forties. The mere thought of dating a man that old creeped me out. It wasn’t even legal.
If today were my last day, I wanted to make sure I had done everything I wanted to or at least tried my best. I wondered if Mama had done everything she wanted to? Told us all she loved us? I couldn’t breathe when I thought of not telling Noel “I love you” once more.
I knew Mama had. She was a “now” type of person. She would tell me, “Don’t wait until tomorrow. Do it now if you can.” She was convinced I had a special light inside of me, like a firefly. She never wanted me to rely on my beauty or to treat people differently because of the way they looked. Sometimes people treated me differently when they found out I would never hear the sound of my mother’s voice or my husband’s laugh. It was crazy that I was only seventeen and worried about who would marry me.
Part of me loved modeling because it was like a libation. Being on set was intoxicating. I felt appreciated. Sometimes it felt like I could be me in front of the camera, and no one would know. Once a photographer for an editorial couture shoot for a French magazine told me he felt like he could see me for the first time when he looked at me through the lens.
A strange middle-aged man on the train approached me. He had a friendly smile. Yet the New Yorker in me never trusted strangers.
“Excuse me, miss. Is someone sitting here?”
I pulled my cap down farther and pushed my sunglasses tightly onto my face. “No,” I said, moving my legs so he could get through to sit in the seat right next to me.
I had taken the train because I knew if Noel were going to come to surprise me—if he still loved me—that’s the way he’d do it. He was so no-frills. All he cared about was what was on the inside.
I had never been so anxious in my entire life. Last night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. All I could think about was how he would look when I saw him and how I would look to him when he saw me. I had tried on seven different outfits. Then I thought about how we could be secret lovers. I would break up with Merek, of course. And how he could come to me sometimes and how I could visit him sometimes.
The rest of the train ride was just a blur—I was on a mission.
I roamed around inside the library. First the first floor and then the second—then I took the elevator to the stacks. The doors opened, revealing one long aisle down the middle of the floor. There were stacks with books on each side, left and right. The institutional green was not romantic at all. I didn’t know how I’d look in the lighting of those overhead fluorescent lamps. Oh, well, I was determined not to let that get the best of me. I was so close. I carefully searched in between each and every stack.
My head began throbbing. I put my hand to my head, and it felt like I was on fire. I took a few deep breaths and opened my eyes, realizing I was only about ten rows deep, meaning there were like thirty more to search.
I grabbed on to the nearest bookshelf and leaned against it for a moment. Why did I feel like I was going to pass out? Maybe if I had slept some the night before. I had always carried Advil in my bag because sometimes I needed it between the back-to-back shoots without any lunch or dinner. Having a headache amid the flashing bulbs of the cameras was the worst.
No matter. I had come too far to get sick. He was here somewhere. I walked down the long aisle, throbbing head and all, one foot in front of the other, one stack at a time. I’m not sure how much farther I had walked—three, maybe four, stacks—when I saw him! Red-hot tears ran down my cheeks. I might’ve gasped. I was definitely trembling.
He was taller, six feet three maybe. Big shoulders. I couldn’t get those broad shoulders out of mind because she had her hands all over them.
This was not how this was supposed to go. What a waste! Thinking, dreaming—it all felt like a foolish waste of time. The joke was on me, and it was the cruelest joke I could’ve imagined. To punish myself further, I stood there and watched as she leaned in and kissed my boyfriend!
I just kept thinking he was mine as I was walking to the elevator. Then my walk turned into a jog. I mashed the elevator button so hard I thought I might break it. Who could I tell? When you’re in love, who is there when your heart gets broken?
Who was going to take care of me? I needed my mother so much that it made it hurt more. Nothing was right, and it didn’t seem like it would ever be right again. Why did I have to get my heart crushed?
I could imagine telling Sierra how I felt and her looking at me and telling me my life was perfect, or that if someone like me got hurt, there was no hope. Beauty meant nothing in love. I wanted a free pass for once; didn’t life owe me something? I didn’t have Mama, so now things were supposed to go my way.
I was embarrassed a little, mostly because I had failed. I wiped the tears off my face with my sleeve and smiled at the librarian on my way out.
I needed Noel so desperately, it didn’t make sense. But was love supposed to make sense? How could something that felt so right be wrong? How could it be wrong?
Good Vibes! 💓