Death by lipstick

One of my favourite times of the year is when the fashion magazines — filled with the new catwalk looks — hit the shelves.

I peruse the trends and get swept up in the idea of dressing in clashing leopard print and tartan, buying gold lame leggings and harem pants. I am that deluded fashion fool.

Thankfully, most of my fashion impulses hang in the wardrobe with their tags still on but — wary that I am getting a bit predictable and safe in my dress sense — this week I decided to shake up my make-up and try out something new.

The catwalks were, naturally, my first port of call for inspiration. As usual, they offered the same seductive array of smoky, smudgy eyes and striking theatrical looks.

Though I am no fresh-faced model, I decided to work the runway looks in my everyday life.

And so, armed with the latest trendsetting, fashion-forward make-up, I went about my week.

I start with a safe glossy eyeshadow a'la Alessandro Dell'Acqua – perfect for a relaxed afternoon on my friend's yacht.

Worn with a nude lippy and subtle blush, I love this natural but glam look.

However, after an hour or two in the blazing sun, I soon start to feel sticky and uncomfortable when my eyelids glue themselves open.

My glossy eyeshadow quickly loses its slick look and instead takes on all the properties of a smear of Pritt Stick.

I looked later at the photos that were taken that afternoon and notice I have a startled “deer caught in the headlights'' look about me. Perhaps not the look Dell'Aqua intended.

Feeling braver, I channel Zac Posen and opt for a lilac lippy. While Posen's models looked edgy and oozing with attitude, it's no exaggeration to say I look like I've been half-frozen to death.

I decide to try out this look on my boyfriend over dinner.
“Your lips match your dress!'' he exclaims, happily.

I assure him this is not a good thing but he seems unconvinced. To say we received a few sideways glances would be an understatement.

My lips are the talk of the town, and I fear that it's more to do with the fact I look like a corpse than it is my cutting edge style.

I am mortified to leave a purple-rimmed glass on our table.
Finally, I decide to go bold with my eyeshadow for a black-tie artsy do.

I play with my eyeshadow palette for a good hour or so trying to decide which colour to opt for. Eventually I plump for a citrus yellow.

It's a surprising hit with the city's hipsters, as I receive a slew of compliments and get asked to pose for a magazine's “most stylish'' page.

I am less encouraged however, when a man in a silver suit paired with silver slip-on shoes is also asked.

I suppose I can grudgingly admit that the moral of the story is that catwalk looks aren't always wearable and that perhaps trends should be left to 15-year-old models with razor-sharp cheekbones and pouty lips.

Though when next season's carnival brights hit the shelves, you can be sure I will be the first in line at the make-up counters to make a fool of myself.