>> When I sit down and I do my makeup, I can't help but always reflect upon when I would

watch my mother do her makeup. >> And She had this little makeup bag...

>> This tiny little bag that fit just these little magical moments that transformed her

and made her feel better about herself. >> I would watch her apply her makeup while

she sat on the edge of the bed using a small hand held mirror.

>> I can't even imagine doing that now. >> I can't even go on a camping trip without

having a big case! >> So I watched my mother and she was simple...

>> what she used was just a minimal amount of makeup.

>> She used a foundation, A blush... >> Virtually no lipstick.

>> She would wear ohh.... Caramex? or Blistex? >> I think my mother had an addiction to Blistex!

>> Every time she came close to kiss me I could smell a minty freshness on her.

>> No heavy perfume. >> She chose two eyeshadows...

>> a pink and a blue that she would gradually mix into a violet on the edge of her eyes.

>> And she had these clear blue eyes, They were almost grey.

>> My mother would not leave the house without having her makeup done.

>> That was part of her wardrobe. It's part of my wardrobe too.

>> As much as I say on my day off, "I'm not going to put anything on my face."

>> I can't walk out without it. >> My mother was a very attractive woman.

>> I remember we would get on a Bus and sometimes the bus driver would make a little comment

to her and tell her she didn't have to pay the fare.

>> Now this was in New York. Nobody got away with not paying a fare!

>> My mother, she could walk anywhere and heads would turn.

>> I loved my mother. >> But at the same time, as I got older, I

felt as if I was in competition with her. >> Why is it that we look at our mothers and

we idolize them. They are the picture of perfection. >> We wanna please them. We wanna be just

like them. >> We sneak into their rooms. We put on their

shoes. We put on their clothes. And we start to try their makeup.

>> I know I did. >> And... It never looked the same.

>> [sniff] If I get a little emotional, the next part is hard.

>> When my mother was diagnosed and she was about to die...

>> I went to the nursing home where she was... and she still had that little makeup bag.

>> and... she couldn't make it to the makeup bag, so she would ask me to get it for her.

>> I could see her hand shake. I could see that she was taking so much morphine to kill

the pain... >> But she still wanted to hold herself up

and look a certain way. >> She took great pride in the way that she

looked. >> I can still smell the way that the nursing

home smelled. >> It was like cafeteria food mixed with the

cleansers and the people that were dying around her.

>> But still she had that minty fresh smell. >> She'd say, "Debbie. Go get me my makeup

bag." >> I'd say, "Mom... You know you're in a lot

of pain. >> No. I'm here. You don't have to put your

makeup on. You don't have to look a certain way. Just be comfortable. Relax."

>> "I'll be damned if I'm gonna die without my makeup on!" She said.

>> "I can't trust you kids to put it on right. Give me my makeup bag!"

>> I'd go and I'd get her makeup bag. I realized later on in life that was the one hold that

you have to your pride... >> to how you hold yourself...

>> to how you feel about yourself. >> And I take great pride in how my skin looks

and my makeup looks. >> I love my makeup. I love how everyday I

have to make a choice as to what colors I'm going to use and what look I'm going to have.

>> My mother didn't have those choices. She had one basic look.

>> When did it all of a sudden get so complicated? >> When did we all of a sudden go from that

one basic look to being able to transform ourselves?

>> I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. I truly enjoy it. It's not a chore for

me. >> Every morning when I get up and I do my

makeup, I look through the mirror. >> I look into the center of my eye.

>> I look at how I've aged and I wonder, with fear, if my mother went through the same thing?

>> Noticing every small fine line. Did she care? She didn't carry herself like she did.

>> People who knew my mother, say I look just like my mother. And I don't see it.

>> But today I do. Today I look into my eyes, I look at my cheeks, and my nose. I look at

how my brows are and I am exactly like my mother.

>> I miss her everyday and I think of her. And maybe that's what keeps here alive in

me is that I can see her everyday. >> Reflected in my mirror back at me...putting

on her makeup.

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