Grunge Makeup Looks Novels & Stories

I mean it in a way that she deliberately tried to make herself look e x a c t l y like me. The same shade of hazel in my hair as well as the light white-silver streaks on them. Granted, the streaks aren’t the exact same, but it would be easy to mistake it as such. Her eyes, no longer a blue shade, but with contacts, it was now the same hazel with a gray ring around it. She even made sure not to put on a lot of makeup which is obvious as to why and that’s just so she could have that same fresh look I usually went for.

Like a dead woman, held up on strings, dragging herself onwards. I must look like hell, in a slip of a dress and high-end lingerie, a torn, blood-covered, ragged mess, who was dragged through a bush backward. Filthy and damp, and I can’t even imagine how my face looks if my makeup smeared everywhere or entirely washed off. My hair is probably like a bird’s nest, my expensive cut and color ruined. Most of my acrylic nails are snapped or scuffed up on my shredded hands. I’m probably facially blood-covered, crusted, and gritty in the same way my arms and legs are.

For three years, my husband and I had lived apart because of our long-distance relationship. Then I landed a bridal makeup job in the city where he often stayed for work. I planned to surprise him after I finished the job, but three days before the wedding, I sprained my wrist. I explained the situation to my client and offered her a full refund, but she refused. "Everyone only gets one special day like this in their life, Felicia! I want my husband to see me at my prettiest on the most important day of our lives! I don't wanna be anything less for him..." I couldn't convince her otherwise, so I decided to bring my apprentice, Dakota McCree, to apply the makeup while I guided her. Then I

Earlier I didn't know how to do it but now I was pretty expert in doing so. Now that I have grown and have established my adult self, makeup has become my way of telling myself that I am still worth the effort and that I am right to take care of myself. I prefer a fairly natural look and I'm lucky that my skin is a good everyday foundation. Humans, especially women, have preened for aeons this way. But thankfully I don't need it. I preferred nude makeup with smokey eyes to catch up everyone's attention with brown lip colour and did my hair in a messy fun with bangs covering my forehead, I chose golden accessories to match my outfit and styled it with gilded sandals for a head-turning look.

- she says “She’s a perfectionist” - Marco says while he gets the dress all ready for me I feel so spoiled. This is amazing. After my make up is done and I look at myself in the mirror I don’t even recognise myself. All the colours used were nudes and black on my eyes. They are popping. The green is met with the black and makes my eyes stand out perfectly. Still a simple but beautiful makeup. I would never be able to accomplish this myself. I look so beautiful.

I executed Rey's hair styling with elegance, applied subtle makeup to accentuate her striking brown eyes, the way she likes it and assisted her into her golden gown. As for myself, I chose a burgundy dress and incorporated my lingering scars into a smoky-eye look. When I looked in the mirror, I was impressed by my own skills. My scars were enhanced, giving me a more sultry and meaningful look. If I couldn’t hide them, I’d make them part of the look.

She was busy snoring and turning like the world won't go up in flames at any moment. Her breakfast is getting cold. Right now I'm putting on makeup so I can look good for my date with Mr. Hunky guy soon, my makeup isn't that heavy though, it's just pink lip gloss, a little eyeshadow, and blush. I'm wearing a white dress with white flats, Rene has teased me loads of times that I've always dressed like a wannabe Disney Princess. I may be more confident and badass now that I've grown but my dressing style never left. Besides I love the dress I'm wearing, it does make me feel like a Disney Princess.

“You look incredible. Like you ready to own the school.” I looked at myself—wrapped in Graves silk, wearing Graves makeup, standing in a Graves bedroom. I looked perfect. So why did the “static” start to hum the moment I heard a door open down the hallway. I turned to the leather vanity case, the weight of the “Graves” brand literally touching my skin as I applied the expensive creams and powders. I kept it subtle—a sharp winger of liner, a touch of blush to hide the fact that I hadn’t slept nearly enough, and a neutral lip that felt like a coat of armor. By the time I stepped into the Louboutins, the red soles clicking rhythmical against the hardwood floor, it was already 8:00am.

Look at what you have done to me. When I finally come back to the pack house, I can't feel my feet. I take off the high heels and throw them away randomly. Then I shuffle to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. My face looks so horrible that it frightens me. My eyes are bloodshot and caked with streams of dried tears, eyeliner, and mascara. The smears of cake mixed with lipstick make me look like a real ghost. I pour a bottle of makeup remover from my forehead down my face.

She was dabbing a grey powder under my eyes. "Why are you making me look like a ghost?" I asked, looking in the small mirror. "I look like I haven't slept in a month." "That’s the point, you idiot," Adrian said from the doorway. He was drinking a coffee and looking at his watch. "Nobody sympathizes with a man who looks healthy and successful. We need you to look broken. We need you to look like a man who has cried every night for five years. We need The Victim look." The makeup artist added some red tint to the corners of my eyes to make them look bloodshot. She even messed up my hair so it looked thin and greasy.