I actually ended up reading this entire article. I found myself guilty of not seeing outside my own little monkeysphere. I blame downtown Toronto for jading me. I used to live on a farm and was very easy-going. From now on I’ll try not to curse under my breath at people who walk to slow on Yonge St. (Via drunken monkey style blogging)
This morning my Fed Ex guy told me I had a real classic look. I said that I’d been told I resemble those cherubs in old paintings, to which he replied that it was my porcelain skin. Hmm. Well I guess that Liz Watier cover up palette I bought was worth the $30. Or maybe it’s the lush moisturizer or tru-blend foundation. It certainly isn’t my actual skin.
Or maybe it’s my delicate nature oozing out of my pores in waves of porcelain sensations. Shut up, I can to be delicate.
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