[A dressing table with chair, folding mirror (closed) and makeup box; a young woman, late 20s/early 30s, dressed for work, sits down at it and sighs]
Jacqueline: Train leaves… [checks phone] 8:16… twenty minutes to get there – no, make it thirty, can’t use the bike today, it’s got to be the bus… ten minutes beforehand should be okay… so… leaving 7:30 latest, that gives me half an hour for… [calculates] fifteen minutes plus breakfast… [pauses] no, scrap it, I’ll eat on the train, twenty-five minutes it is…
[Sighs again and opens the folding mirror. On it, in large letters written in lipstick, two words are scrawled: “NEED” at the top of the mirror and “LESS” at the bottom. She blinks for a few moments in surprise]
What the hell’s this? “Need”. “Less”. Who wrote that? Who’s been in my… [Looks around nervously for a moment] Wait. I wrote that. It was me. Last night, I remember. I was taking everything off then I suddenly got the urge. Grabbed the lipstick. Big letters. Just like that. [Reads again] “Need. Less.”
[Stands up and begins walking around]
I’ve been getting more and more like this recently. I’m not myself. Or my evening self’s not my morning self. Or the other way round maybe. Something’s not in sync, that’s for sure. People don’t write themselves messages. [Looks at the mirror] Not this sort, anyway.
[Continues walking]
Maybe it’s the pressure of work. Since I moved up. Maybe that’s it, now I’m a line manager. [Considers] But in some ways it’s better. Pay’s better. Pressure’s still there but it’s different, more…energizing. No more customers, just the workforce. No more being polite, no more suffering fools. I can get tough if I want to, say what I’m thinking. [Considers again] Yes, that must be it. I’m getting more critical now, more judgemental, now I’ve got staff under me. I’m enjoying it, and it’s building up in me, all day long, and then by the evening…
[Turns back to the mirror and looks at it. Makes to rub off the lipstick but then pauses]
“Need less”. Need less what?
[Sits down at the table]
Alright then, I’ll play your little game. Evening Jacqui’s trying to manage morning Jacqui, make her more efficient, so what is it? [Rummages in the box] What do I have to cut down? [Picks a sponge out of the box and waves it at the mirror] Less foundation? Is that what you’re saying? You know I can’t stint on that, not with our office lighting. Alright, just a few dabs then. [Starts applying] Here, here, and here. Happy? No? That’s the bare minimum, for Pete’s sake. Okay, I’ll wipe off the forehead but not the cheeks, alright?
[Sponges off her forehead, is about to rub the remaining cream into her cheeks, then pauses]
This is really what you want, isn’t it? Okay. Okay.
[Sponges off both cheeks]
No foundation it is. Might as well walk into work naked.
[Whips out the eye shadow]
I’m not backing down on this, though. No foundation, more eye shadow, that’s the trade-off.
[Her brush hovers over her eyelid]
What are you staring at? I just saved you five minutes, I get the full ten for this, alright? [Considers] Ten is an awful lot, though. And no one ever compliments me on it these days. Not like they used to. Maybe eye shadow’s not very… managerial. Great for looking all wide-eyed and wondering at the boss but no good for scowling at slackers.
[With an immense effort of will she returns the eye shadow to the box. Exhales, walks around the desk, sits down again]
Alright. [Picks out the mascara] I’ve earned myself this. Because there’s no way – no way – I’m facing the day without it. It’s not human.
[Looks at her reflection and pauses again]
Oh. I see. You still think you know better. Think you are better. Staring back at me with those little eyes, those little, mean, judging eyes. “Less is more”? You think that workplace motto belongs here? Well screw you, it doesn’t, less is nothing here, buster! My eyes are my best feature and this [waving the brush]… this …this [losing confidence] …this isn’t my eyes, this isn’t my eyes, it’s just a bit of paint, it’s not…
[Slumps miserably]
Yes, I see what you did there. Such a low blow. Such a low, clever blow, just where you know it’ll get me.
[Stands and raises herself to her full height]
Well, there’s one thing you’re not separating me from. You couldn’t, no woman alive would be separated from it.
[Takes out the lipstick]
This is what it comes down to. This is the red line – the thick red line that I’m not budging over. And you want to know why, Jacqui? You want me to spell it out for you, in great big letters, like you did? [Yelling] I’m wearing this because without it I look like a fucking man, we all do! [Pause. More calmly] Nothing against men, I just don’t want to look like one. Same way I don’t want to look like a gorilla. Or a walrus.
[Sits down at the table and makes decisively to apply the lipstick. Hesitates]
Except, you don’t look like a walrus. Or a gorilla. Or a man. So why would I look like…?
[Looks at the lipstick]
You’re right. This isn’t for me. It’s for them. And they don’t know me like you do.
[As if in a trance, closes the folding mirror, picks up her phone and dials]
I’m calling on behalf of Jacqueline. She’ll be switching to evening shifts from now on. [Pause] No, no, it’s a personal preference. She just works better after dark.
[Lights down]
homo monologous 