It's about the idea of the public vs the private, and how something as simple as putting on your make up is a kind of mask.
Three women at dressing tables facing the audience, behind them, numerous mirrors. Tthey apply makeup and style their hair. Alice is a woman in her late 60’s, lamenting the loss of her youth, Bianca is a prostitute who dresses accordingly, and Daisy is a girl of about 4 or 5, playing with her mother’s clothes and makeup.
Daisy: You...You’ve got to pout...like this...when you put on the lipstick...
Bianca: The punters like it when you look like what you are. So we lay it on thick, ladies.
Daisy: ...and it’s got to be PINK!
Alice: I used to have my hair long. I’d wear this section up in rolls and have the rest of it in curls. Of course, that was the fashion then. Can’t do that now. Now it’s all thin and grey.
Bianca: Why can’t women put mascara on with their mouth closed? I can. I’m sure I...oh...maybe not.
Alice: I used to rub toothpaste on any blemishes I got. Don’t think it would work on filling in the laughter lines... They say wrinkles are a map of your life on your face. This line here...that’s from the first time Brian made me laugh...and this one’s the first time he made me cry.
Daisy: Mummy doesn’t put enough blush on...Pink is for girls...so...so people will know you’re a girl.
Bianca: I don’t mind having to put this much makeup on for work. It’s almost like a mask...like it’s not really me doing those things. When I’ve got my work face on, I’m in that mind-set...I feel like I can take on the world. You’ve got to be thick skinned to do what I do. It doesn’t hurt to put another layer on top of it.
Alice: This one is from the first time he was unfaithful, and this one was me trying to pretend I didn’t know.
Bianca: I like to have my hair long and loose. Some girls will tell you that it just gets in the way, but I guess it’s just...I feel more feminine that way. The guys are paying for a woman, so I give them a woman. A real woman. They’re not paying to see you looking like shit.
When he’s with me, he’s not your husband, or your father, or your brother, or your uncle. When he’s with me, he’s someone else entirely. He’s whoever he wants to be, and that’s something he can’t get with you. With me, there are no rules, no social etiquette to tell us how to behave around each other, just the basest of instincts.
Alice: Who’s that old woman in the mirror there?
Daisy: Mummy says I’m too young for make-up. I think I look pretty.
Alice: This is the same perfume I sprayed on the day I got married; only now it smells old and musty.
Maybe that’s the problem. Life’s just made up of big events, and the bits in the middle just blend into one. There’s the first time you have a night out and a man asks you to dance, your first kiss. There’s the day you get married, the day your first child is born. You remember these days above all the rest and they’re like the peak of your happiness. You look back on them and remember how happy you were, and realise how unhappy you are now.
Bianca: No one wants this. It’s no one’s first choice. But it’s better than nothing, surely. I’d rather do this than not be able to support myself.
I remember when I got into a car for the first time. I cried the whole time. Not that he noticed, or cared. But after that, it somehow got easier. If you’ve done it once, then you can do it again.
Alice: Only once in my life have I ever felt desirable. It was something so simple, and in that moment, just for a second, I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. There was a man. I remember the way it felt as he ran his hands over my legs. I remember this kiss. He kissed me just once on the skin left bare in between the suspenders that held up my stockings, and when he did that I felt...good. About myself, about what I was doing and about the power I had over him. Just that one moment, fleeting and stupid, but at least I had it.
