Brazen Little Hussy (Not)

Brazen Little Hussy (Not)

My oldest daughter, Katie, texted me Monday morning to say my soon-to-be-six-year-old granddaughter, Grace Amelia, had asked for makeup. Having come of age in the 50s and 60s when the messaging was clear and emphatic, "Good girls don't wear makeup," my response would have been a soul-crushing, "Hell, no!" or "Over my dead body!" My prudish Italian mother never wore makeup, nor did she give me lessons on the proper and appropriate application of foundation, rouge, eyeshadow, or lipstick. Consequently, I grew up a pretty plain Jane, and was clueless when my own daughters came of age. Therefore, the whole idea of makeup as something innocent, lovely and welcome is complicated in my mind. Especially when, in the language of my youth, makeup, bleached blonde hair and short skirts earned you the title,"brazen little hussy." 

With those old tapes playing in my head, I was surprised to learn that my daughter cheerfully offered my already beautiful granddaughter a hint of blush, eyeshadow, and lipgloss. I admire my daughter for the balance she brings to parenting and the raising of her three awesome humans. Of course she found sensible solid ground to satisfy Grace's curiosity, without crushing her spirit. 

Only recently, at sixty-six, have I begun dabbling, playing around and experimenting with makeup and color palettes. For Christmas last year, Lindsey, my middle, gave me a gift certificate to Sephora, and she graciously accompanied me the day I decided to redeem it. So now, if you catch me on a Zoom call, or a live Facebook video, you're apt to see me sporting a hint of tinted moisturizer, a brush of blush, glitter eyeshadow and red lipstick. All of which just goes to show, we're never too old to record over the old tapes.