by Lollie Barr
Whatever colour eyeshadow you use, make sure you have a nice pale nude or near white, slightly shimmery tone for the tops of your eyes, near the brow bone, which opens up your eye.
When applying mascara, hold the wand of the mascara parallel to your lashes and brush back and forth (left to right). To finish the look, take a lash brush and comb the lashes to remove any excess mascara.
If you’re using blush, be careful you don’t end up looking like your nana. Apply the blush to the apple of your cheek. To find the apple, smile in the mirror – it’s the roundest part of your cheek. The blush should provide a healthy glow,
Forget dark coloured lipstick unless you’re dating a Goth boy. Stick with sheer colors like pink, corals, or cherry. Red doesn’t make you look older, just like jailbait.
Hot lips! A gloss is great alone or over a coat of lipstick. There are also coloured glosses if you are not ready for lipstick. Teens tend to experience chapped lips – the best remedy is to use a lip balm and drink lots of water.
‘Hey, this is excellent, Wanda,’ said Belle, as soon as she finished reading.
‘It was a team effort. Maggie’s input made it so much better,’ said Wanda, secretly proud of what she’d written – numbers were her thing, not words, and she hadn’t spent so long over a writing assignment since third grade.
‘You did all the hard work, Wanda,’ said Maggie, deflecting the attention away from herself and on to Belle. ‘Now, Belle’s been working on the design and is going to show us some of the logos she’s been working on.’
Belle pulled out her laptop and explained that Fit Club McGary had been teaching them about all-important ‘branding’.
‘It’s why you choose one thing over another, when it’s the same thing,’ explained Belle as all the girls crowded behind her for a closer look.
‘Enough of the theory of consumerism,’ said Mand. ‘Show us what you’ve done!’
Belle opened a document on her laptop and the words The Mag Hag appeared in about fifty different fonts and colours.
‘Wow, they’re so cool,’ said Wanda. ‘It’s amazing how your design can make the words suddenly look like they mean something.’
The girls stood around discussing which logo they liked best and why. Of course, Cat and Mand had differing viewpoints, while Wanda and Maggie were quite happy to go with the consensus, but in the end all the girls decided the fluoro-yellow font that looked like a logo for an eighties rock band stood out the most.
‘We’re official,’ said Wanda happily.
‘Any other show-and-tells?’ asked Maggie.
‘Still no response from Tyler.’ Cat looked thoroughly dejected. She had written to Tyler care of the TV station but had had no reply. ‘Unfortunately.’
‘Surprise, surprise!’ said Mand. ‘The guy probably gets a million letters a day from teenage girls declaring their love for him. You’ll never get your interview that way.’
‘Well, what do you propose, Mand? I knock on his front door?’ said Cat.
‘You could go down to the studio. It’s near where my sister lives in the city. The stars pull up at the boom gate. I saw John Ashworth there, you know, the newsreader for Channel 19,’ said Mand, feeling worldly and superior. ‘Actually, I got his autograph.’
‘Really?’ said Cat, sounding impressed. ‘I could go down there on the weekend and try to talk to him.’
‘Sweetie,’ said Mand, with more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘Stars don’t work weekends, that’s when they’re lounging at their beach pads. It would have to be a weekday.’
‘But we’re at school on weekdays,’ said Cat.
‘Der!’ said Mand.
‘What, you mean wag school and go to the city?’ said Wanda, praying that nobody would ask her to go.
‘You can’t wag school!’ said Maggie. ‘What if you get caught?’
‘I’d do it,’ said Mand, issuing a challenge to Cat with a raise of her eyebrows. ‘I’d do it for an interview.’
Cat had, in fact, wagged school once before and got away with it. But to go into the city – anyone could be on the train. What if they got caught? McTavish would go ballistic. Cat could still hear her principal’s Welsh accent ringing out at assembly, quaking with anger, the last time he caught waggers. ‘If there’s one thing I can’t bear, it’s truants. Not at my school, not on my watch, not ever!’ he said, looking like the child catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. ‘But if you do try it, expect me to throw the book at you. And mark my words, it’s a big, very heavy book, as the two students I caught yesterday will attest. In fact, it’s a whole set of encyclopedias!’
‘I’m the celebrity editor, so of course I have to go …’ said Cat with more bravado than she felt. ‘After all, didn’t Bone Marrow say we had to hunt down stories? That’s going to be my excuse anyway.’
‘Speaking of stories,’ said Wanda. ‘Has anybody got any news on the Reanne front?’
Just the name Reanne made Belle bristle. There was something about Reanne’s fakeness that stood out like a pair of plastic boobs on a contestant at a beauty pageant. Belle often wondered why her dad couldn’t see it.
‘Henceforth the biography of Reanne Rowles, according to one Mel Hospock, knower of everyone and everything in Baywood,’ said Mand, somewhat dramatically. ‘Captain of Baywood’s A league netball team, nearly got picked for the State team but was elbowed in the face by a vicious wing defence who didn’t shave her armpits, and had to quit her illustrious sporting career due to a broken cheekbone, was dating Ron Saunders till he dumped her for her best friend, Janelle Tynon. Apparently Reanne poured cola over Janelle’s hatchback, making the paintwork bubble like a moon landscape. Before Ron Saunders she was with Sol Stevens, the kickboxing dude, for years, and she worked at Simpson’s Solicitors.’
‘With my sister Caro,’ added Maggie when Mand took a breath. ‘Before quitting under suspicious circumstances after a row with Sissy Simpson about petty cash not adding up three times in a row.’
‘Yeah, Mum heard that one too but said she can never balance the petty cash at the salon and she’s no thief,’ said Mand. ‘Anyway back to Reanne, she lives at home with her mother, Glenda, grandmother, Helga and brother, Davey, but is never there. She apparently won’t offically move into the mansion until after they’re married. Is very kind to her grandma, who she takes to the cemetery every Sunday to visit Grandad’s grave. Has a fetish for shoes, and currently owns one hundred and forty-nine pairs. Met your father at some charity do. Fell in love with his worldliness and gentle soul; hates the fact the whole of Baywood is so cynical to think that a blonde woman of twenty-eight with questionable breasts can’t love a man of forty-three with millions of dollars in the bank, without an ulterior motive …’
‘Does your mum believe she has an ulterior motive?’ Belle asked Mand.
‘She said, “Live and let live” when I asked her that question. She says as long as people are happy, you shouldn’t really have an opinion about what they do with their lives.’
‘What if I’m wrong and she does really love him?’ said Belle. ‘You know, I really want my dad to be happy, Reanne’s the first woman he’s dated seriously since Mum died.’
‘Belle, forget that love-conquers-all bullshit,’ said Cat. ‘I heard her in that change room. There was something in her voice, something cold and calculating. That woman is up to something.’
‘Well, I did find out something,’ said Wanda nervously, as speaking about clients’ business outside the Hong household was a definite no-no. ‘Your dad invested nearly all his money in the patent for The Vultron. If it takes off, he could become ridiculously rich. Apparently, there’s a big deal going on with Yamyo, the company he’s in partnership with. I overheard Dad talking about it with Mum. He’s advised your dad to get a pre-nuptial agreement, but your dad says it’s unromantic, which means if Reanne marries him without a pre-nup, she could be entitled to half.’
‘Why are men so dumb that they get blind-sided by a pair of boobs and a ni
ce arse,’ said Mand with a snort, and secretly wishing she had both.
‘She’s a good actress, Mand.’ Belle was starting to feel a little defensive about her dad. ‘I’ve seen her in action. She laughs at his jokes like he’s a stand-up comic. You’d think that would give the game away. My dad is a lot of things, but he’s not funny.’
‘Especially on those commercials,’ said Cat, standing up and emulating his little wiggle dance.
‘Please, enough of my father already,’ said Belle like she meant it.
It was getting late, so it was time for the girls to get their respective buses home. ‘Any further Mag Hag business?’ said Maggie.
‘I’ve finished getting the clothes together for the fashion shoot,’ said Wanda. ‘Now we’ve got to think about where we want to shoot it.’
‘That’s your department, Belle,’ said Maggie. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Yeah, actually I was thinking about shooting it on the steps of the civic centre,’ said Belle. ‘Then, because the theme is futuristic, Photoshopping in some spaceships hovering in the background. I’ve even been drawing some cute aliens to be our dates.’
‘That’s totally kooky but I like it,’ said Mand. ‘Actually, I love it!’
‘Oh yeah, Mand,’ said Belle. ‘Wanda thought it would be cool if your mum would do our hair for us.’
‘She’d love to,’ said Mand. ‘What my little Melsy would give to “hang” with the girls. I suppose I could manage it for an afternoon; although, trust me, she will drive you nuts.’
Just as the girls were packing up their stuff, there was a noise from the hallway that sounded like two cats fighting in a dark alley.
‘You’re a selfish, spoiled bitch,’ cried one voice in a hysterically high tone.
‘What was I going to say, “No Guy, I can’t marry you because my older sister is an ugly old maid?”’ spat another. ‘This is not Jane Austen, where the older sister has to marry first. Don’t know you if you’ve noticed, but we live in the twenty-first century!’
The girls sat open-mouthed and looked at Maggie for clues to what was going on.
‘Mum, she’s got engaged, the cow,’ said the first voice, snuffling like she had a nose full of snot. ‘I hate you. You know Roddie was going to ask me at Christmas. You knew it, Caro, everybody knew it.’
‘Everyone except perhaps Roddie, Bet,’ said Caro, her voice dropping an octave with malice. ‘He told Guy he didn’t want to get married until he was, like, thirty! Maybe you should have discussed it with him first.’
‘Welcome to my world!’ said Maggie in a whisper. ‘The shit is really about to hit the fan now – there’ll be hair balls floating down the hallway like tumbleweed before you know it. It’s probably time you left.’
The girls would have loved to have stayed and heard the Jones sisters rip each other to shreds. Wanda, especially – she’d always thought having sisters would have been the best fun ever, sharing clothes, make-up, talking about boys. But was it really like this?
‘Keep it down, you two!’ said Dario in a hiss. ‘Maggie’s got four girls in the dining room. Do you want the whole town to know the way you two carry on?’
The cursing suddenly stopped, to be replaced by the sound of doors slamming as the girls left the house. The screeching started up again when they were further down the street and continued all the way to the bus stop.
The window let in a cool breeze that made Wanda’s pink bedroom curtains flutter like butterfly wings. Inside, it was absolute pandemonium. Once lessons had finished on Friday afternoon, the girls had headed straight to Wanda’s and spent three hours in a marathon trying-on session, in which they emptied the contents of Wanda’s and her parents’ wardrobes. Surprisingly, Mr and Mrs Hong had some mean throwback disco clothes – Mr Hong had won a dance-off in 1986 and had been known around the clubs for his killer moonwalk.
The girls had been looking for the perfect outfit for the fashion shoot, which was to take place the following day. There were clothes everywhere, spread out over the bedspread, in piles on the floor, draped over Wanda’s sewing machine and stacked up on the pink lounge chair.
The girls had ‘oohheed’, ‘ahhhed’ or ‘errrghhed’ as they looked at themselves in the full-length mirror, nicked from Mrs Hong’s bedroom. After much deliberating about the size of bums, the width of hips, the skinniness of thighs, the fatness of thighs, knocking of knees, the bigness of boobs, the smallness of boobs, the girls all found something they mostly felt was them.
Mand chose the retro silver jacket worn over a black 1950s debutante’s ball gown with her black biker boots, Wanda teamed the silver and purple A-line minidress, with a pair of wickedly high white platforms and over-sized black sunglasses. Belle plumped for the silver pleated mini and little top combo, with a pair of high black boots, while Maggie had to be convinced she didn’t look like ‘a tube of toothpaste’ in the silver glomesh boob-tube dress.
Cat chucked a moody because, on second thoughts, she wasn’t sure how the Us Crew would react to seeing her photographed with a bunch of Thems. She took the longest time to choose her outfit, as everything made her look too fat, too daggy or too dumb. She had had her eye on the mini and top Wanda had promised Belle and made a remark that sounded reminiscent of her mother, how perhaps a little longer skirt would make Belle’s thighs look less ‘heavy’. To which Belle snapped back: ‘Get the hell over it!’
Finally Wanda convinced her the sky-blue bat-wing cardigan over a black strapless dress didn’t make her look like a ‘fat dweebie daggy desperate dick’ that would make her the laughing stock of the entire school.
‘How are you going to do the make-up?’ asked Maggie, tugging the boob-tube dress down over her thighs to cover her modesty, exposing a nipple in the process.
‘Kinda OTT eyes that spread out like butterfly wings, with lovely pale lips,’ replied Wanda as she dug out her eye shadows to show Maggie.
‘I don’t want to look like some freak show, you know,’ said Cat with a scowl. ‘Unlike the rest of you, I’ve got some sort of reputation to uphold.’
‘Look, Cat, nobody is forcing you to do this,’ said Mand, who had had enough of Cat for one afternoon. ‘I’m not very comfortable with poncing about on the steps of the civic centre dressed up like a banana, but at least I’m willing to give it a go. Why don’t you take yourself aside for a second and give yourself a talking-to?’
Mand hadn’t had to try too hard to convince her mother to do the girls’ hair and had arranged that they go to the salon tomorrow afternoon. ‘Oooh,’ said Mel. ‘it’ll be just like the old days when I used to do the shoots for your father’s band.’
‘Mum, I just want you to do the hair, okay?’ said Mand. ‘And don’t embarrass either of us going on about Dad’s has-been band. No one cares, especially me.’
‘Not a word, I promise,’ said Mel, crossing her fingers and kissing them to show she was serious.
On Saturday afternoon the girls congregated at A Cut Above to get their hair done, after Mel had finished the last of her Saturday-morning clients. She had commandeered BellaRose, the third-year apprentice, to stay on and help out. The atmosphere was buzzing, as BellaRose mopped the last of the hair into a huge pile of multi-coloured tresses.
‘Right girls,’ said Mel. ‘What’s the look?’
‘Well,’ said Belle, ‘we’re calling it Future Formal. Imagine it’s 2016, crossed with 1978.’
‘I think I’ve got an idea what the look you’re after is,’ said Mel, putting on David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust to get her in the mood.
For the next two and a half hours, Mel and BellaRose primped, straightened, curled and teased the girls’ hair into submission. Wanda had a gravity-defying do, which looked like a black oriental fan spreading out around her forehead; Belle’s strawberry-blonde hair was held up with wire and shot up out of her head like a flame; Cat wore her hair in a classic pillbox bun that sat on a weird angle; while Mand allowed her mother to attach three black ponytail hairpieces – one
on top, and two on the side of her head.
Between hairdos, Wanda buzzed around with her make-up kit, creating the most elaborate eyes of silver, blues, purples and golds that streaked out to the girls’ temples, with the lightest pale shiny lips. Even Cat had to admit she thought they looked cool.
After the girls had had their make-up done, they slipped into the bathroom at A Cut Above and changed into their outfits. ‘Get your skates on, otherwise, we won’t have enough light left,’ said Belle, freaking out at the fading light. Then five minutes later urged everyone ‘to get a freaking hurry on’ in a terser, crosser voice. So Mel said she’d finish Maggie’s hair at the civic centre.
They all piled into Mel’s little hatchback. There was some trouble getting Belle and her hairdo into the car, which involved a lot of neck craning, laughing and teamwork from the other girls.
‘If any of my mates see this, they’ll crucify me for the rest of my existence,’ said Mand on the fifteen-minute ride over.
‘Wait till they see you in the mag then!’ said Wanda. ‘Anyway, who cares what anyone else thinks? We rock!’
They pulled up at the civic centre, which was deserted because it was a Saturday, and got a park right out the front. The steps fanned down from the front of the hall in a dramatic sweep. Belle got her camera out, a huge tripod, a small stepladder and a light meter, which Mand held while she checked the light. Wanda got out a huge brush and powder and powdered the girls’ faces so they wouldn’t ‘look like sweaty Betties on film’, as she put it.
Mel flapped around the girls with a mouthful of bobby pins, adding some last-minute touches to their hair.
‘Have you ever done anything like this before?’ asked Maggie as Mel backcombed her long heavy fringe, exposing her whole face to the world.
‘Um, well, Mand did swear me to secrecy, but I used to do hair and make-up for her father’s band,’ replied Mel in a hushed whisper. ‘They had the most ludicrous hairdos and tonnes of eyeliner. I could just go crazy on them!’