RED LIPSTICKS, FUMES AND SHARPENERS, twenty years of treasures

What do you do with twenty years worth of treasures? I look in my cupboards and slam the door immediately. I hate to throw anything out. From unused prescription drugs with names that mean nothing, for some forgotten problem, to pieces of china. I have kept diet pills from 23 years ago just in case I should suddenly put on ten pounds. The problem is everything I have is a friend, so where do I start?. Last night at ten o'clock I braved my make up cupboard. What a nightmare, endless hair brushes that I have no memory where they came from, fifty make up brushes that I have no use for, as I am unable to work them correctly. So in a huge effort to be green, I decided to put everything into black bags, to give away. I wondered how I have 15 hairsprays which I hate because they choke me to death. I feel like dying every time I breath in horrible fumes, and although it keeps my blond curls in place, I collapse afterwards swearing I won't use it again, but every morning I forget, putting beauty before anything.
As I went out with Jean Louis Sebagh I have endless creams that I used to experiment with, face packs on my legs, a peel on my bosoms, creams endless creams. Some had been hiding for at least five years. some had turned green, with labels coming off, Sex lotions, the new aromatic oils to guarantee a happy life, tanning lotion instead of a holiday, hair removing cream when I am practically bald. 25 pairs of tweezers. The funny thing is that although I am rarely frugal, I hardly ever buy make up. I hate it, I don't like visiting the make up counters in shops, the women have white shiny scary faces, perfectly drawn on, that look more like cartoons. The look of a whore, and a girl in a panto, I visit about every 18 months, to try on a new colour, hoping that they have a red lipstick that won't go onto my teeth or land up on my pillow. They always fail me. Foundation is another dodgy area, too white and you look like a ghost, and too brown and you look like a footballers wife, and as your lover kisses you, it comes off on his face, not a pretty look, therefore becoming plainer and plainer, before his very eyes. Oh dear such a mess. Nail Varnish, nine blacks, twelve reds Chanel, Revlon, and three different blues, the best from Yves St Laurent, the fads of fashion seem more noticeable here. That are wasn't too bad.
The business I shall go into, in my next life, is pencil sharpeners, I found at least fifty, Terry, Chanel, Bobbi Brown. I couldn't believe it. Every time I have bought a pencil, I must have been given a sharpener. Off into the bag they went. Nearly empty I shall start with the boxes by my bed. The letters the trinkets from old love stories. The bills, the theatre tickets of some lost passion. I shall remember them all hopefully and remember what my son Jack said to me, three years ago, when I attempted to do this. "Throw the whole lot out, burn them, because that is what we shall be doing when you are dead"