Trinny puts seventeen different moisturizers on her face and takes us shopping, but not both in the same episode. She likes to wear things that are made of silver parachute material or have sleeves that flare out like medieval costumes, but not both in the same garment. She prefers to layer them. She secretly films herself trying on things in shops and then says the shopkeepers are trying to throw her out. We don’t know why they would. People watch her and afterwards they go and buy the things she tries on. Women watch her, to judge from the messages she displays on the screen, but surely men too. She talks to her viewers when she sees their messages on the screen. “Hello Elly, hello Amanda,” she says in her commanding voice. “Is it sunny in Brighton? It’s very grey here.” Sometimes her assistants hold the cameraphone and relay the messages. “Trinny, they want to know the name of that concealer.” She puts on her spectacles and reads them the name on the package. The assistants are European and Trinny has viewers all over the world to judge from her shout-outs. “Good morning, Auckland! You’re up late, my god, what time is it there? Hello, Istanbul!”

Some products I have learned about from Trinny: long gilets made of soft cashmere, metallic trainers, Vitamin C serum, apricot hued skintone corrector, rouge that is also lipstick, electric facial massagers, a little roller which sticks pins into your skin like a yogi’s pillow. “What it’s great for, ladies, is stimulating the collagen,” Trinny says in her voice that could close a prizegiving or open Parliament. Trinny finds something great in almost every product she talks about. Sometimes she will say a skin or makeup product is not exciting and she does not like it as well as the seven she is about to show us. We take that as proof of her honesty. All the products in the same category look the same when she puts them on, but most of the time she is able to find differences between them. If she can’t find any difference or the difference is only something transient like smell, that means the cheaper one is a bargain and she is letting us in on a secret. Still, how things smell is important to Trinny. If a handbag is leather, she snuffs it like a dog. If it is not leather, she snuffs it anyway and talks about it as good value and long wear.

Trinny lets us see her at home, in her bathroom with its library of skin and makeup products, and her bedroom with its clothing archive that takes up an entire wall. The kitchen she keeps private. Sometimes she has a clearout and gives away a few things. “Yes, they want it,” the assistant says as soon as she offers a spare blouse or tube of beauty balm. Trinny shares a lot with her ladies. We have seen her jogging in her underwear while she brushes her teeth. We have seen her with her hair full of color foils. We have seen her with threads scissoring whiskers off her face. We have seen her, from the waist up, getting a colonic. Trinny shows us what she is getting everyone for Christmas: her daughter, her goddaughters, her assistants who have to leave the room when she gets to their presents. A jacket with metal sequins like coins, a pashmina, rose and violet creams, a drone. “What’s great about this drone is it can go to any height and you can control it from your phone.” [Dɾəʊn], [gəʊ], [‘kəntɾəʊl], [fəʊn]. Nobody is going to disagree when she says it like that. It probably smells divine as well. She is our mad posh aunt and we cannot stop watching her.

Posted on by Diana ben-Aaron
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