When, I decided to leave my job as editor-in-chief of Vogue, I had anticipated all kinds of changes in my life. But the one I never imagined was that I would become a late onset make-up addict. That possibility had not entered my mind. Now, though, in my 60s, after 25 years at Vogue and a decade in other magazines, I have for the first time become obsessed with make-up. Instagram posts and beauty vloggers, department store beauty halls and online make-up hubs — these call to me as persuasively as did the Sirens to those hapless sailors, luring me to endless purchases, very often triumphs of expectation over experience. Yet I’m not deterred.For many women, this is not particularly unusual. They have always loved make-up. Even relied on it. However, until relatively recently, I had never had much interest in the wonderful world of make-up and skincare. Nor have I ever had any kind of cosmetic intervention, not even a dot of , watching with some curiosity as contemporaries try out various tweaks. Looking my age has never been something that bothers me.
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