I LIKE a bit of slap. And tickle. But mainly slap. In fact, a lot of slap. Because, from the moment I bought my first pot of Yardley’s foundation in 1975 – such a sublime smell – I was hooked on the art of maquillage.

The art of transformation, the act of deft brushwork, is one I’ve been devoted to since the age of 14.

Despite what is said about today’s youngsters, the reckless behaviour, the wilful demonstrations of rebellion, trust me, the previous generations have been there before, done that and committed those acts of defiance in droves. And for females, that provocation often manifested itself in the crude art of face painting. I’m not talking lion king, or wicked witch of the west here.

I refer to that ancient practice, demonstrated so aptly by Cleopatra and Elizabeth I, of adorning the eyes with kohl, the complexion with a forgiving emulsion and the lips with a scarlet slick. Natural beauty has never come easy.

If you can fake it, flaunt it has always been my mantra. Make-up is artistic, therapeutic and fantastic.

So it comes as no surprise to learn that, in these credit crunching times, women are buying even more cosmetics in an effort to cheer themselves up.

It seems we are forgoing expensive items such as cars and foreign holidays in favour of more affordable smaller luxuries, such as mascara, eyeliner and lip-gloss.

The theory has an historical precedent. During the Great Depression of the 1930s, industrial output in America plummeted, but the sales of cosmetics rose.

Moreover, in the US, the number of people working in the cosmetics sector actually increased during the recessions of 1990 and 2001. As the going got tough, the tough simply applied more translucent face powder.

Apparently, after 9/11, the sales of lipstick doubled.