I knew it was going to be one of those days when I woke up and immediately garotted myself with my headphones, having fallen asleep, again, listening to music (most likely bad European dance music if you must know). I untangled myself and dragged myself to the bathroom where I spent approximately 16 minutes blasting myself with blissfully hot water until I emerged fresh, clean and lobster-like to begin getting ready for the working day. Oh, did I mention I mistook my conditioner for my face wash? No? Well, I did. So far, so bad day.
Back in my bedroom, I moisturised and concealed and blushed and highlighted and then, somehow, knocked one of my palettes off my dresser and everything came crashing out onto my carpet. Nothing, thankfully, smashed, apart from one eyeshadow pan. Not so luckily, that pan happened to be a sparkly charcoal number, pleasingly crumbly and powdery and highly adept at burying itself into my carpet at alarming speed. Oh, did I mention that my carpet is light beige? No? Well, it is. So far, so bad day.
I cursed and sighed and huffed and puffed and cleared up what I could of the mess but I had to go to work. Had a fairly bad day. To be expected. On the way home, I stopped at some sort of...home store and purchased the strongest and most nuclear-looking carpet cleaner I could find. I came home, having prayed silently on the way that Eyeshadowoncarpetgate was all just a bad dream. It wasn't. It was there, all smeared and stained and charcoal grey and mocking me. So I spritzed and dabbed and vacuumed and prayed. And nothing. If anything, I was just pushing the shadow around and further down into the carpet. So I did what anyone in a rented property with a large deposit at stake would do. I went into a different room and watched something and drank something and pretended it wasn't happening. And then I took to Twitter.
Something to the effect of "FUCK. I'VE FUCKING SPILT EYESHADOW ALL OVER MY FUCKING CARPET. WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO PLEASE?". Maybe with a few more "fuck"'s in there for good measure. And then I drank some more. And then The Lippie replied. "Micellar water" she said. Just two small, sweet words. Sure. I thought. Like that's going to get me my deposit back and save this wretched day from the very jaws of Satan himself. So I sat some more and drank some more and then I retired to my room. To look at the stain. FINE, I thought. Micellar water it is.
Fortunately, just a week before, I'd bought the Une 3 in 1 Micellar Cleansing Water, but I hadn't used it yet. Can you IMAGINE how annoying it is to use a brand new product on your shitty carpet before you've had the opportunity to use it on your face? Well, I suppose I could except that, by the grace of *insert deity of your choice here*
, it bloody worked! I doused the beshadowed patches of carpet with the water, which is basically like Bioderma but a bit oilier, and then I dabbed at it with kitchen towel. I dabbed my ass off. And you know what? Stain (almost) begone! Couldn't bloody believe it. I sat back, admired the result, and then knocked the rest of my wine down my top. And promptly went to bed.
P.S. This cleanser works fine on my face, too, in case you were wondering.
P.P.S. The first two carpet photos were taken after a lot of the damage had been repaired. I need you to know it was a lot worse than it seems.