| 28 July 2010
Helen Razer advises the ‘time poor’ on how to get it together
There is no day more loamy with hate than a Sunday. It is then I am propelled by a force more poison than god to read the stupid Sunday Papers. There, beneath an impeccably photo-shopped picture of a Hip Urban Mother is the worst shit you’ll read all week. Every paper has one. She craps on about The Battle With Baby Weight, the rewarding fun she had baking coconut macaroons with her toddler in the afternoon sun and, inevitably, some arse-hatted nonsense about the pressure of being Time Poor.
Fuck that shit. I am sick to the back bottom of photo-shopped people banging on about being Time Poor. If you are Time Poor, stop having babies and afternoons of macaroons. Better yet, stop writing your dog-mother of a column. You’re giving Time Poor a bad name.
Actually, I prefer to greet Time Poor by its lesser title: lazy. I am lazy. Moreover, I am prone to mild depression and self-loathing brought on by the sort of garbage fore-described.
You may be genuinely time poor. You may, like your reporter, be a filthy, sluggish whore. Whatever the case: there are none, save for impeccably photo-shopped people, who can do without grooming hacks.
I do not have a tow-headed toddler named Lulu so, sometimes, I stay in bed all day rising only to urinate and grab great fistfuls of biscuit which I eat with such abandon that the fetid valleys of my bedclothes are filled with sugary waste.
In the afterglow of my orgy of disgust, I realise I haven’t bathed in some days and I look only slightly more fetching than the cat tray. It seems I actually have something grown-up to do in an hour, and so I reach for my Lazy Girl’s Kit.
In thrilling news for the terminally unkempt: these new Instant Shampoos ACTUALLY WORK. I spray CEDEL Dry Shampoo in my hair, wait two minutes and, voici, I seem to brush a very good simulacra of clean back into my hair. Kevin.Murphy has also jumped on board the lazy train with Fresh.Hair. Evo’s haze styling powder is a pneumatic pick-me-up for lifeless tresses and gives volume without the need for blow-drying or other heat sources. Made for hair sloths is the Remington Wet2Straight. If your hair is a biohazard and you must wash, this magic machine will dry your hair to precision straightness without blow drying. It costs around a hundred.
There’s a throng of newish potions that promise an ‘instant lift’ or wrinkle erasure. This is very appealing to those un-photo-shopped people who have forgotten their anti-ageing regimen for the last fifteen years. 7 Minute Wrinkle Eraser is a relatively recent addition to pharmacy shelves. It really does make your eyes look a little less rheumy, depressed and rather like they’ve been watching porn for the last thirty six hours. From Modelco is one of the better, more moderately priced Botox-like applications called Erase Those Fine Lines. Apart from facial skin cheats, I do always find a quick-and-dirty application of body moisturiser helps to make me appear human. Trilogy is organic, very modestly priced and sustainable. Try Nourishing Body Lotion.
Once, I gave myself a manicure on the train with a French Polish set by YSL. It’s expensive but it really does, almost, make you look like you’ve had a proper mani. And, I can clean up the refuse with the Dynamo To Go Stain Pen. Nothing screams sloth louder than the woman on the train dabbing at her lapels with a stain remover.
Except, perhaps, she who uses a waterless, disposable toothbrush. I’ll admit: I have used the throwaway fancy of Colgate WISP. It cost me two bucks and removed most of the green from my bitter teeth.
But, there is little that will erase the memory of the Sunday Papers. When will they make a cream to erase the fine lines of the Hip Urban Mother.
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