The joy of looking sh*t on holiday
I know, I know – you’ve all been telling me this for years. But I have recently embraced the joy of looking like absolute crap on holiday, and my god, it’s freeing isn’t it?
You have to remember that I’ve grown up and worked in the world of women’s magazines, a genre which takes holiday prep, dressing and make-up very seriously. This is something I’ve happily taken on board for most of my life. In fact, I’d say I’ve actively enjoyed it. I like laying all my clothes and accessories out on the bed to create lots of lovely outfits before I go on holiday (top tip: I always recommend packing in a colour scheme to make life easier). Then immediately on arrival, I unpack and hang everything so I know exactly what I’ve got, which nearly always includes multiple pairs of gold shoes, lots of jewellery, endless flouncy dresses. Some of my best holiday memories focus on the ‘getting ready’ element of the day; sharing a few bottles of cheap local wine with my girlfriends as we all sit on a balcony applying make-up, or taking it in turns to have our hair curled with GHDs by the only person in the group whose capable of doing it without turning you into a poodle.
So, I totally recognise the joy of dressing up on holiday, and until recently, I thought people who told me ‘oh I never bother wearing any make-up when I go away’ were a bit weird. Then last autumn I went to Tenerife, to a hotel that was lovely but about as unglamorous as you can possibly imagine. It was full of the over-50s, plus a few families with kids, and certainly no one who gave a sh*t about whether I’d applied my MAC highlighter or wore the same comfy ASOS sack dress five days in a row. I was also – crucially – on holiday with my then two-year-old, which leaves much less time for self-preening. Even if you do try and apply make-up, it’s accompanied by the sound of a toddler saying ‘Mummy, why are you doing painting face? Can I do dat after you?’, which makes the whole thing more of a hassle.
I embraced the joy of looking crap in Crete recently too. Seriously, there is not one nice photo of me from the whole holiday, just pictures of my daughter looking adorable (because she had a willing assistant to get her dressed and do her hair every day - honestly, she better return the favour eventually). In an unprecedented turn of events, I even went for dinner without make-up on, which I don’t think has happened since I was about 14. And although I felt the occasional pang when another hotel guest turned up to the restaurant looking fabulous, I also couldn’t be arsed to sacrifice any of my time spent reading by the pool to beautify myself. At this stage of my life, it seems a holiday is mainly about squeezing out every second of downtime I possibly can, to power me through the next year, rather than attempting to look fabulous. Although I hope to go back to the gold heels and Instagrammable dresses at some point, because that was really, really fun too.