#28 Tom-Boy-Foolery

Growing up, I had several idols. All heroines, all ballsy belles, all... I suppose, 'tomboys'. Calamity Jane - she was SO cool (until she ditched her gun-slinging in favour of camel-coloured suede and a double-wedding.... ick!!); Wonder Woman; Little Women's Jo and my absolute favourite - George, from Enid Blyton's Famous Five... I loved them all. They made me climb trees, challenge the boys to fisticuffs, scare the 'delicate' girls in my year with vile ghost stories (I even made one girl throw up after a particularly gruesome tale), strut about in oversized tracksuits, with oversized trainers and a baseball cap to match. I was ten years old, and by god, I thought I was cool. I was a tomboy, through and through - but I never wanted to be a 'boy'. I could outrun them, outplay them, outwit them and outfight them. I hated dolls and dressing up. Having my hair plaited. I wanted an action man and a Ghostbusters car and a subscription to a bunch of macabre comics at my local store. I liked my hair cut short, with a 'boy' style fringe at the front (that I was convinced looked like 'curtains' - the coolest boy's look EVER when I hit secondary school). But I soon learned that arm wrestling boys and wearing baggy hoodies wasn't really going to snag me a man. And yes, I liked boys. No, LOVED boys. Perverse really, as being a tomboy meant I was always surrounded by them, but none of them ever fancied me because I'd kick their behinds during lunchtime footie games. Not very sexy.

A lot's changed since then. I still can't resist the odd kickabout. I wear flat shoes everyday as I abhorr that totty 'totter' you develop with stilettos and you'll never ever find me wearing pink (well, George would be disgusted) - but there are more than enough items of powder and paint to cater for a modern, rather glam girl, who still likes to give off a bit of attitude without ever looking cutesy or pouty.

My favourite tomboy trinkets?

Revlon Just Bitten Lip Stain - No need to pack a mirror + gloss for retouching as this liquid is satisfyingly and highly pigmented. It therefore stays put for longer and won't wash off with the first sip of wine. Leaves behind a deeper pink than the competitors, in an 'I've just eaten a punnet of raspberries' sort of way.

MAC Creme Colour in Hush - Multi-purpose - good for tomboys. A slash across eyelids, browbones and the top of cheekbones gives a nice, outdoorsy highlight to the face.

Shiseido Accentuating Colour Stick in Rouge Flush - a great, genuinely 'flushed' colour that you flick on without the hassle of brushes. Even the hamfisted can't go wrong as the colour is never overpowering and the creamy formula blends well.

17 Lash & Brow Mascara - big of brow as I am, I'm always careful to keep my caterpillars in check - with this. It's cheap, but very effective. I've tried almost everything else and nothing's as good - including the Giorgio Armani Eyebrow Gel that gave me a serious case of brow dandruff within hours. Flaky formulas are the WORST. This one is firm, but never rigid.

#23 In Pulchra Veritas...

Having been suckered into the Facebook boom several months ago, I have to say it's put more than a few smiles on my face. Old school mates, uni friends, work colleagues and long-lost acquaintances all in one bustling, social cyberspace that's far more fun than the clinical climate of Friends Reunited. Poking, gifting, messaging and scrawling overly emotional messages on a sibling's wall space are what it's all about and I check in at least once a week to see what's going on. My favourite bit so far? The inexplicable popularity of the cult community Caecilius est in horto, which not only reminded me of my wonderful, inimitable Latin teacher, but also the doomed lives of the Pompeian family, Metella, Quintus, Clemens, Grumio and the mischievous little dog, Cerberus, painted so vividly by the Cambridge Latin Course. Ah, it's nice to reminisce. But once you begin, you just can't stop, which is where I currently find myself...

The first item of make-up I bought? A clear, colourless mascara from Boots 17. Then a shimmering, nude pink from Boots Natural Collection and a little bottle of scent - once again from Boots - in a triangular bottle, with a black plastic lid, that was called something like Infinity, or Inspiration, or my sister thinks it might even have been called Atmosphere. I can't remember the name because it rubbed off within months of my buying it, but whatever it was called, it was fresh and icy with a sweet heart and I loved it so much that it went through three house moves with me - until I finally lost it about five years ago. Boots was my teenage make-up Mecca. I remember the slightly breathless feeling I would get on reaching the top of the escalator. My cousin and I would spend hours, utterly engrossed, smelling, testing, pouting and preening into the distorted foil mirrors that used to be stuck on the in-store display units and blow the majority of our pocket money there every Saturday afternoon.

A year later and I'd graduated onto eyeliner. Rimmel was my first - an unflattering minky brown that was too light for my complexion - followed by bronzing pearls from The Body Shop - a real extravagance at the time. The Body Shop was also where I had my first skincare experience. My mum noticed that I'd started to get spots - on the nose and forehead - so she coerced me into my nearest store, where I sat atop a stool, and had astringent, stinging solutions tried out on my pimples. I remember a brown, watery emulsion - with oats in it – with which I was advised to wash my face every morning, but it brought my skin out in heat rashes. I tried Clearasil too and used it for a month or so, before graduating onto a fruity, fragrance-free face wash from Holland & Barrett, followed by Oil of Ulay - as it was known back then. Eventually, I was a fully-fledged face painter and I wouldn't leave the house without painted nails, mascara, a white shimmery eyeshadow from Rimmel, a dusting of bronzer and a slick of edible strawberry lipgloss. I even had a set of brassy highlights put in by a family friend - how I loved them! - until a boy I fancied told me I looked much better without them and should consider prosecuting my hairdresser. First love snuck even more tricks up the sleeve - peppermint scented balm, tinted moisturiser (I used Botanics, which was an utterly fantastic formula, but sadly discontinued) and enough kohl to sketch canvases with. The joy of those first buys and the communal cosmetic summits we'd have in the school bathroom, exchanging face scrubs, lipsticks, mascara - dreading the end-of-lunch bell, when we'd have to run back to our form rooms for afternoon registration - once with a stubborn wax strip still stuck to my thigh.

That's what school was all about. Laughing till my sides split, experimenting on our faces until detention struck and (secretly) loving to learn about everything from Grumio's kitchen to Lady Macbeth's lost child. The classical crossed with the cosmetic. Aw, memories....

#12 Cheap Stakes PART ONE

If I think about the hundreds of items of clothing that I've returned over the years - everything from a pea-green coat that my sister called 'catalogue-y' to a pair of Miu Miu sandals that were sexy in the box, but made me hobble with premature decrepitude after five minutes - it strikes me that if the same returns policy applied to cosmetics, I'd be considerably richer, and far less cynical now. I was a student, living on £30 a week, convinced that I needed a Clarins face cream and cleanser. I bought MAC make-up and Shu Uemura curlers and Kanebo concealer. I gorged on Ruby + Millie lipgloss, Stila bronzer, NARS blusher. I was an utter fool - a broke fool - with a burgeoning make-up bag to match the escalating overdraft. So I stopped. Cold turkey. Boots was banned, all Superdrug stock sequestered. Never again. And I stuck to it. Back in the black, things improved. I'd taught myself the art of cosmetic control - I didn't need the £50 face cream or £80 cellulite gel or £20 blusher. In fact, I'd learned that it didn't really matter what kind of crap I slapped on my face - you don't get good skin from spending lots of money. You get it from being happy and healthy. Yawnsome, but true.

So, today my outlook is rather different. There are yummy, luxurious, decadent, effective things that can be bought with notes - of course - but not one of them will change your life. And, I don't know about you, but when I discover a fabulous, but pricey product, I can't stop the mental calculations in my head for long enough to enjoy it - "£60 a month, £720 per year - Blimey! I could buy premium gym membership for that! Or take an amazing holiday.... or... or." You get the guilt-tinged point. So, in the spirit of exuberant economy (the mantra being: spend less, get more, have fun!) I've come to like my little trinkets cheap and interesting. That way, if they're good - as many affordable cosmetics are - it's far more satisfying.

Here are the staples that have been floating my boat (and keeping my afloat) for some time:

1. Burt's Bees Lemon Butter Cuticle Creme. Less than a fiver, smells like fresh, sharp sherbert and lasts for ages. In fact, I've got a two year old pot that's still going strong.

2. 17 Sheer Shine Eye Cream, £3.79. Good stuff that's very easy to use. Comes in a series of nice shades with a subtle, shimmery finish. Tigerlily is a favourite.

3. Boots Coconut & Almond Leave-In Conditioner, £1.79. I go through a bottle in the summer. I saturate my ends, or spray it all the way through damp hair if I'm doing a senorita-style-bun, comb it through and go about my business. Smells like you'd expect it to, which is no bad thing.

4. Rimmel Special Eyes Eyeliner Pencil, £2.99. It's firm (so you don't get that awful melted-chocolate consistency that you often get with expensive soft kohl) and it doesn't crumble, smudge or melt.