"These women who have children early get to look so matronly even when they're barely out of their twenties. It's all about attitude, and attitude is very important, Brooke. It will have a direct effect on your appearance. If you think of yourself as older, you'll look older. I think of myself as becoming even more beautiful, just blossoming," she said, smiling at her image in the mirror. She looked at me.
"I don't want you to think I didn't want children. I just couldn't have them while I was in competition and while I was a model. Having children changes your shape. Now," she said, smiling, "I still have my shape, and I have a daughter."
She wiped the thin layer of brown facial mud off gingerly with a dampened sponge and then stared harder for a moment and leaned in toward the glass.
Her right forefinger shot up to the crest of her left cheek as if she had just been bitten by a bug. She touched it and then turned to me.
"Do you see a small redness here?" she said, pointing to the spot.
I looked. "No!' I said.
She returned to the mirror, studied herself again, and then nodded.
"It's not something an untrained eye would see!' she said, "but there's a dry spot here. Every time I go out of this house, I come home with something bad."
She looked over the rows of jars filled with skin creams and lotions. Her eyes turned a bit frantic when she lifted one and realized it was empty.
"Damn that girl. I told her to keep this table stocked, to check every day and replace anything that was empty Leven near empty!' she said, rising. She went to the closet on her right and opened the door.
When she stepped to the side, I saw the shelves and shelves filled with cosmetic supplies. It looked as if she had her own drugstore. She plucked a jar off a shelf and returned to her table.
"This has special herbal ingredients," she began. "It replenishes the body's natural oils!' She dipped her fingers into the jar and smeared the gooeylooking, chalky fluid over her cheek, gently rubbing it into her skin. Then she wiped off the residue and looked at herself again.
"There," she said, turning to me. "See the difference?"
I saw no changes, but I nodded anyway.
"Your skin is very sensitive to atmospheric changes, my dermatologist says. It was so hot in that orphanage, for example, and then we went to that airconditioned department store, but they don't filter their air conditioners enough, and there are particles floating around that stick to your skin and begin to break down the texture.
"The water in this house is specially filtered," she continued. "Harsh minerals are removed so you don't have to worry about baths and showers."
It had never occurred to me ever to worry about such a thing, anyway.
"Our air conditioners, heaters, everything is filtered. Other people's homes are filled with dust. Sometimes I feel like wearing a surgical mask when we're invited to someone's house, even Peter's wealthiest clients. They just don't know, or they just don't care about the beauty regimen," she railed.
She sighed as she began to brush out her hair.
"These ends are splitting again. I told my stylist he wasn't trimming it right. Damn," she said, and then stopped. "See that, see?" she said, pointing at her face. "Whenever I get upset, that persistent wrinkle shows itself just under my right eye. There, see?"
There was a very tiny crease in her skin, but I would never call it a wrinkle.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and sat there quietly for a moment. I waited until she opened her eyes again.
"Anxiety, aggravation, worry, and stress hasten the aging process. My meditation instructor has taught me how to prevent it. I must chant and tell myself I will not be upset. But it's so hard sometimes," she moaned. She stared at me.
"You shouldn't squint like that, Brooke. See how your forehead wrinkles? It's never too early to think about it. Do you need glasses?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"Don't worry about it if you do. We'll get you the best contact lenses. Peter wears contact lenses."
"He does?"
"He's a good-looking man, your new father, isn't he?" she asked with a proud smile. "I didn't just marry for money and position. I married a handsome man."
"Yes, he is handsome," I agreed.
"And he's a good lover, too, a considerate lover. He won't even think of kissing me until he's shaven. A man's beard can play havoc with your complexion. If a man is selfish, if all he cares ab