IUSED to think those stereotypical jokes about make-up counter women with orange faces who jump out from nowhere and spray perfume at you were exaggerated.

But now I know different.

Those women are ruthless. Make-up is their weapon, and they certainly know how to use it.

I went wedding make-up shopping in Manchester with my little sister/ bridesmaid last weekend... and I only just managed to escape unscathed.

First stop was a well-known department store’s most popular make-up counter. Yeah, that one. The one that famous people always say they wear. It begins with the letter M.

All was going well as the make-up woman (complete with eighties-style electric blue winged eyeshadow and a serious-looking utility belt full of brushes) applied a rather nice eyeshadow to my eyes.

Well, to be precise, she applied about five different eyeshadows, gel liners, base coats, and other things to my eyelid before blending. That was the key she said – bllllennnd.

I looked into the hand mirror she’d given me. Hmm, not bad, I thought. This isn’t as scary as I’d thought it would be. And so I relaxed into the chair, enjoying being pampered, as she massaged various moisturisers, primers, and highlighters onto my face.

Then we moved onto the foundation.

I should’ve known better than to trust a make-up counter girl, but she’d lulled me into a false sense of security... and now she was smearing a thick cream across my face that looked like it would be a perfect match for Willy Wonka’s Oompa Loompas.

Resisting the urge to scream: “What have you done to me?! Are you colour blind?” I bought a few bits and pieces and made a sharp exit.

Outside I scurried around the corner out of view and got out my compact mirror. I looked like I’d been tangoed.

It seems like I’m not the only one to have an unfortunate run-in with these make-up counter women.

Sharing my experience with friends, it soon emerged that loads of us had fallen foul of the beauty counter army.

One friend had gone in for an under-eye concealer and come out with a bright yellow paste the woman had assured her looked “fabulous” and made her skin look as flawless as glass.

Another pal had been duped into spending wads of cash on various lotions and potions to reduce her oversized pores, although she admitted she didn’t even know what these were.

Thankfully, with the help of my little sis, I managed to eventually find the right make-up for me (i.e. stuff that didn’t make me look like I had a death mask on).

But it took another three goes and an argument before I managed to get one the same colour as my actual skin, and not that of an orange.

What’s the lesson to be learnt? Never trust the opinion of someone who’s trying to sell you something.