“And this cream is for your dark circles and bags,” said the Lancome lady.
Lancome.
I remember when I was fifteen and bought my perfectly pink lipstick in the coolest silver case at Clinique. I also remember being twenty and stalking the MAC counter for a chance to chat up the really cute make-up artist. I remember being twenty-something and spending an entire paycheck on all sorts of funky colored eyeshadow and goopey eye liner.
Not anymore. No. According to the Lancome lady, the only funky colored eyeshadow I need is to smear under my eyes to distract from the luggage I carry under my eyelashes. In an effort to defend myself, I told her that it was probably remanence of that same goopey eye make up from the early 2000’s. C’mon, we were listening to Aqua’s Barbie Girl, it was a confusing time.
Upon taking a closer look at my face, Rosario, undoubtedly Lancome’s top grossing sales person, also informed me that I was in need of some moisturizer. Oh, and that I needed an industrial cleanser. Then, she asked me if I at times frequent the outdoors. Clearly, a trick question because I obviously just came from outdoors. I tried to back out of the sunscreen by telling her that I normally wear a surgical mask, fedora and glitter glove on my walks through the mall. It was no use. And my new sunscreen is like me, thirty-something and white, but not really.
Can you imagine how upset I was at everyone I know? How can they have just let me go on without telling me that my face had fallen off of…well, my face. No. Not only had my face fallen off, but it has now been replaced with the Scream Mask(TM).
I bought everything. Everything. So much so, that I earned ten free gifts, including actual stock options in the company.
It was only when I placed the last shopping bag in the car that I remembered my reason for coming to the mall wasn’t for make-up. It was for a pair of pants. For her birthday. All she wanted was a pair of pants. Specific pants.
Obviously, I told her they didn’t have her size.
Mari de Armas 