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This one is a hard one to write.

It is hard because I don’t want to admit that I lost a great love, and it was my undoing.

I lost the reason, and I only saw the purpose.

In 2010 I was 20 years old and I re-met* the man up to this point is the love of my life. So cliché, we were making fun of ourselves on the singles table at a wedding. I want to mention that the couple divorced well before our relationship ended, so umm, thanks and sorry about that.

He fell in love with me almost instantly. Beaches, presents, restaurants, picnic grounds, fishing spots, putt-putt golf, cinemas, holidays, parties, late nights, festivals, drive-ins, love-letters, surprise visits, family barbecues, clubs, parents, shopping dates…the whole she-bang!

…and then I decided I did not want it anymore. I wanted more. I wanted the world. All of it. What he was offering was not enough. That’s what I thought. Then.

Now, I am not so sure. I sit here, on a Saturday night, single as fuck! I would not have stayed with him out of desperation or for the sake of being in a relationship, no way, but maybe I should have fought harder because he loved me. Nobody has since loved me like that. So passionately. And somewhere, through my fears and desire for a whole lot more, I loved him too. Very much. Being so young taunted me, and maybe I did not know the value of what I had. Two and a half years I ended it. And he was very sad.

Or so I heard.

*I say re-met because we knew each other from high school but had no romantic interest. Actually no friendly interest either, so I guess I was meeting him all over again.

Minimal makeup, Maximum beauty

I was at a wedding here, rocking Chanel Rouge - probably the most makeup I have ever worn.

Minimal makeup. It’s my thing. Anyone who knows me knows that. I am not a fan of the “cake face”. Not on myself. Not on anyone. If you wear too much make up I can't trust you - what are you hiding?

My mind is boggled by people who carry around 24 shades of lipstick, blushers, brushes, eye shadows and prima… WHAT IS PRIMA? I may sound ignorant, but really, anytime anyone wears prima, they ended up looking white in photos. White like their face belongs to a mannequin. And I also don't understand those foundation bottles that are numbers and not names. Foundation 334. I think some numbers are for going out and other are for "everyday"?

No. Just no.

Stop.

Everybody is impeccably beautiful. The trick is to discover how to flaunt your beauty and accentuate it.

I am the proud owner of a single "sand beige" foundation, perfectly suited to my skin tone for any occasion, day or night. I have a couple of light shaded pink and peach lipsticks for “everyday”, and the Chanel Rouge that I wear on super duper special occasions. There is something wonderful about red lipstick. It makes me feel so “grown up.” I actually bought it when I wore a "recycled" dress to a wedding (oh I know, the horror), which justified spending inordinate amounts of money. I also adore the Chanel waterproof mascara (hoping that the waterproof-ness will forgive me for re-applying once every 3 days…maximum), and a black eye pencil. The brand doesn’t matter, as long as it is stays on all day. Right now, I think I am using MAC.

To appear ultra glamorous I apply a (usually straight) line at the top of my eyelids. I have tried the "inside the eyelid at the bottom of the eye" look and its not for me. It makes my eyes appear way too close to one another. Just a short line at the tip. That’s it. It suits me and makes me feel like a movie star, and that is really it is all I need.

Let me note here that good quality makeup is important. Nobody wants that dry “crackly” mouth that happens when your lipstick is too dry. Always make sure your lips are kissable, even if you have nobody to kiss. Trust me on this one.

Oh, and another sensitive subject… blush!

I don’t know how I feel about red blush powders and their accompanying sticks. Actually, I do. They suck! They give you the “aunt that you only see at Christmas and asks for a million kisses but doesn’t bring any presents, wears purple eye shadow, glitter and smells like cigarettes and dusty perfume.”

I usually go for a cheek stain, or if I am short on cash (the status quo) , an old, almost finished dark shaded red or pink lipstick does the trick. Just a few dots along your cheek bone and rub it in. It gives that “I am conveniently just a tad bit bit flustered” look.

And eyebrows. Don’t over pluck them. Just don’t. and if you do don’t draw them in either. Don't even try. They don’t look like eyebrows, they just look like drawn black (usually squiggly) lines on your face. Trust me on this one too.

This photo was taken by my mother as I was heading off to my year 10 formal in 2004. I was 15. I think I look older here, but my makeup style has remained the same. Natural colours, emphasising your prettiest features. That is all.

Old Photographs

 

One of my favourite hobbies is looking through old photographs. I love the way they make me feel - as though we have come from somewhere. Somewhere innocent. We don’t just exist in time and space - we have a story.

This picture transports me to before everything broke. Before our families fell to pieces, before my grandfather (dedeh) passed away, before this house was sold, before my grandmother had dementia, before we became strangers. It is Christmas Eve, ‘96. My dedeh probably insisted (as he always would) this his sons and their families all got together at his home for lunch. And not only on special occasions, but on Sundays too. He hated going out, to him there was nothing better than having his family under his roof, eating, drinking, talking and laughing.

In this photograph the Geroyan Grandkids are hanging out at the granny flat behind the house, with George our eldest (and therefore most trusted) cousin barbecuing what was probably a left over meat skewer on the “manghal”. I remember the smells and tastes of the day, they were like any other day we all got together. The air tasted like scotch and smoke, Armenian music in the background, laughter and loud small talk.

I laugh each time I look at this picture because it is so tale telling and raw. I have always had an insatiable appetite, obvious as I probably could not wait and am already eating. My sister, Alissa is trying so hard to be close to George, the leader who is cooking and posing at the same time, showing off intense “swagger” in his basketball jersey. And sweet and humble Kristina and Anita, who were always impeccably dressed and even better behaved.

Also, I would like to note that I was not in charge of the styling of my hair, and have had numerous discussions with my seemingly cruel mother about why she would subject me (and subsequently herself) to such humiliation.

Heartbreak

Someone once asked me a strange question.

“Caroline, how do you deal with heartache?”

I really do not know. Do you even deal with it or does it deal with you?

I read somewhere that the term “heartache" is actually a thing. When you are experiencing the emotions your lungs and air ways physically close up, and that feeling that emulates a ton of bricks on your chest is actually your chest closing in. Your heart ACTUALLY endures pain, and it ACTUALLY feels like your heart is breaking, but any girl/woman beyond 12 could have told you that.

I don’t know how you deal with it. I don’t know how I deal with it. I don’t cry incessantly, I just cave in. I try to not let such a negative feeling consume me but mostly I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I lay in bed, other times I go out… I have no finite method. Recently, I was listening to a song while driving, and I burst out in tears. Is that dealing? By the way it was “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran, so I mean, my crying was on totally on cue.

When I am in the mood for “real talk” I ask my mother. Her advice is so on point its frustrating. She tells me what I need to hear not necessarily what I want, which would be something like “go out there, drink, smoke, shag heaps go good looking, brooding men (all of which are valid ways to deal by the way). But no, her advice is alway says something along the lines of “this too shall pass.”

One time she was honest enough to say “I don’t know what to tell you…your situation is pretty fucked.” Another time she pushed me to go to London to see a guy I had thought that I liked simply to see if I actually had feelings for him or if it was the distance that was getting to me. She’s cool like that – its just, like anyone, mothers don’t always know what to say. But I guess, all anyone going through heartache really needs to hear is that it is all going to be okay, because after all, it is…right?

Remember your first heartache? Slightly? At the time that dickhead who did not pick you for the year 6 public speaking team caused the worst, most irrefutable pain EVER, and now it is a distant memory. I think that’s what my mother means when she says “this too shall pass”, and sure enough it does.

Being heartbroken has its advantages though. Your friends are extra nice, sometimes they bring you treats (because you don’t buy enough for yourself), total strangers are suddenly qualified psychologists who listen to you, lending a shoulder to cry on (or is this just what I do), and when you are having a cigarette, you never get told to go outside, because after all, which heartless prick is going to kick out someone who is crying hysterically and intensely looking at the cigarette flame at the same time?

So how do I deal? I don’t know. I just do. But what I look forward to is having my own daughter come up to me with her head in her hands and her eyes full of tears telling me about the dickhead who wont pay her any attention, and I will tell her “don’t worry, this too shall pass.” I cant wait!