Hotel Indigo Chester: An Opulent Stay with Charm and Comfort

I go out so rarely that honest going out is amazing. I’ll listen to music while I get ready. Inflamed, nihilistic stuff like David Bowie’s Time is satisfactory if I’m going somewhere I’m nervous about. I’ve recently liberated myself from adopting body-hugging clothes. I’m trying to buy clothes that feel hedonistic rather than styled. I’ve got into silk tunic clothes from All Saints or the White Company. I also love Inauguration O’Porter’s Bob dresses. She dressed me in one called the Flack for the British comedy apportions.

I would love to be dressed more, because I loathe shopping. I buy overwhelms of clothes from Asos that just sit there until I try them on in a bad fury, right before the returns deadline. I kind of hate get-up glad rags; I still wear hipster-style jeans and I’m always showing my arse – perfectly undignified for a woman of my age.

I’m against lipstick, big time. Dark eyes necessary nude lips, so I just use a kohl pencil and lots of mascara. What I do is too unintentional to be called a smoky eye – it’s more like a smutty eye. My mum taught me how to put on makeup as a youth, and I’ve been doing it the same way ever since, although I participate in started doing my eyebrows. I tend to go quite dark, then characterize as, “They don’t look dark enough”, add some black eyeliner, then I look in the reproduce and go, “Jesus, I did not know that was happening.” I use a Mac foundation and, sometimes, Sally Hansen tanning counterpane on my legs.

I don’t take my makeup off before I go to bed. It’s too boring. I feel damn near the same about brushing my teeth: ritualistic washroom crap have to take about six years off your life.

• Nina Conti is on federal tour with her In Your Face live show from 25 September until the end of November; go to ninaconti.net for particularizes.