Journalist Roxana Kiseleva about criticism and favorite cosmetics
FOR THE FACE "HEAD"we study the contents of beauty cases, dressing tables and cosmetic bags of interesting characters to us - and we show all this to you.
About attitude to criticism and their work
I do not see well, but in general this is not bad - I don’t notice any oblique views at all. I wear magenta hair, black lipstick or leather skirt boots - all silent criticism passes by me. It happens that people give me strange tokens or impose their uninvited opinions about my appearance, but for me this is absolutely unimportant. There is a difference between respect and worship: no one is obliged to love my taste in clothes, no one is obliged to choose me as a friend or sexual partner - but I also don’t have to comment on the “relevance” of my outfit in the subway. Although here I’ve mislead a bit: I used to have a bad habit of attacking people on the Web myself. Over the years I have grown out of such behavior - my rage never brought me happiness.
What really hurts me is a dismissive attitude towards my work. I introduce myself to people as a journalist, and their eyes light up; I say that I am writing about cosmetics, and their interest fades away, and a joke about “writing on the nails” hangs in the air. Such situations happen infrequently, but for half a year of work, I have repeatedly heard that smart emancipated women do not paint anything but hygienic lipstick, and real journalists are those who risk their lives in hot spots. Maximum write a book reviews, but do not choose on the leather sofa in Stoleshnikovom five best creams of the month.
I understand the reasons for the dislike of the self-proclaimed highbrow community to gloss. However, claims like "while Dadin is in prison, you write about lipstick" I answer that I am not the only journalist in Russia, and not even the best, but about politics and without me there is someone cool to write. In the end, the beauty headings of some Russian magazines need to be saved no less than opposition journalism, and a good beauty author knows about art, the natural sciences, marketing, and history. Perhaps it will sound immodest, but I would like to be one of those who will make Russian beauty journalism great again. A start has been made: at least I do not incite women to fight senselessly against cellulite, so my family already has something to be proud of. My task is to educate people in beauty issues and inspire them for creativity (and partly bless them for hedonism).
About caring for yourself
My job is to follow the cosmetic market and try different things on myself, so my daily care is simple: I cleanse and moisturize my skin, occasionally use masks and, if I recall, apply serum with vitamin C for vigor. I am proud that in whatever condition I am, I always take off my makeup and wash my face. Once in St. Petersburg, I went over so much with wine that I literally crawled into the hotel room. Smearing the hydrophilic oil on the face, I managed to fall asleep, and while I was looking for foam on the sink, I had to fall twice. If moderation in libations is worth learning, purposefulness is a cause for pride.
Sometimes it seems to me that everyone around is very conscious, and I am a punishment for my skin, and it’s time to get boosters, starters and oils, but I'm so lost in the range that I decided to postpone these global changes to twenty-five. By the way, I am not afraid of aging, although I managed to gain a few kilograms, because my metabolism is no longer so fast. I am more upset by the fact that I have to die - but nothing can be done about it.
About make-up
With makeup I have everything very simple: neither at school, nor at the institute, nor on one of the works, I did not have a dress code, so I share cosmetics according to a special principle. For everyday I refer funds for a quick make-up, and I’ll get everything for more than five minutes of fuss when I am going to the cinema or to a disco. Most of all I like lipsticks, I have twenty of my favorite ones, but with rouge trouble: only last week I determined in sorcery by means where I need to put them, and it was exactly at this place that I was allergic.
With the transition to freelancing, I practically ceased to be painted: for the publication, I often put only the tonal framework, and then more because of the fear of radioactive substances from the air, rather than wanting to adorn myself. To be honest, it even bothers me. I look at my mother: she is forty-four, and she never stopped being a berry - she doesn’t even go to the bakery without makeup, styling and heels, wears ripped jeans and draws flowers on her nails. Someone will say: "Young!" - and I will say that she does not lose her enthusiasm and that everything about her is good. I left my enthusiasm in the tram, but I hope to return it once.
