Indeed, there are a lot of things in my make-up bag. And while it’s so easy to talk about colours, powders, primers, highlighters (yum! fave!) with a […] soullessness and irrelevance, make-up to me, to many of us, is not an extravagant stockpile of excessive frippery, but something that bestows power. In a world where that power is only taken from us, make-up is a tool that cheers us on as we draw our battle lines, giving so much power back to ourselves. It’s a secret language, misunderstood and disregarded by boring dudes who think make-up is ‘gay’, which allows us to communicate with each other both silently or with floods of Facebook messages about Kat Von D’s new matte lipstick. My make-up bag is not for anyone else. It’s very much for me, as yours is for you. While people question whether the act of wearing make-up is anti-feminist (much like they question drag), make-up is, ultimately, about choice, about allowing yourself to choose how the world sees you. The same can be said for not wearing any, especially if you’re expected to by society. Make-up gives us agency over our own image. Above all, my make-up bag is a kit that allows me to create an illusion that is closer to the truth than most people ever reach. People bandy about terms like ‘fake’, but choosing how you want to look is the definition of authentic. It’s time to go out. I apply a blister plaster and sausage the thigh-high boots on to my signature chubby thighs.