The Sunday Times,
“Look! It’s the BeautyBOSS!” A woman is hurtling across the street, dragging her unwilling teenage daughter towards me to say hello.
It’s one of the rare days I’ve braved going for a run make-up free and I start panicking. Should I pretend I’m the BeautyBOSS’s sister? Maybe I’ll just say I don’t speak English and run. In that moment I’m convinced that if I own up, these two women will never take my beauty advice seriously again. Why would they listen to me when I’ve got acne scarring along my jawline and brand-new blemishes have come out to play on my forehead? I’m supposed to have all the answers, and yet I can’t even sort out my own skin.
Of course, this is all in…