et’s get one thing straight right off the bat: I have a long-standing love affair with Chanel. In my eyes, it is the ultimate beauty brand and my earliest memories of beauty are a sensory cascade of Chanel No.5, which my mother has worn for longer than she would probably care to admit.
In my early teens, when I was of an age where Harvey Nichols’ and Selfridges’ vouchers were far more appealing than a Waterstones’ book token for birthdays and Christmas, I remember being giddy with excitement when purchasing a translucent Chanel gloss with delicate flecks of iridescence.
I was 13 years old – 14 tops – but I felt like a goddess whenever I wore that gloss to skulk around indoor shopping centres at the weekend with my glorious babble of girlfriends in the early 2000s.
Over the years, I’ve loved and lost many of the now discontinued Chanel products. Be it the ethereal Pro-Lumière foundation, which was probably the best base of all time, or the Rouge Allure Laque in the perfect shade of red, Dragon, no other brand gives me more joy.