Saturday, April 14, 2012


About once a year, I have to go to the Lancome cosmetics counter and buy 2 tubes of my Bordeaux lipstick.  I have worn this color for about 8 years and I am very faithful to it.  It has just enough brown that it does not turn hot pink on me leaving me looking like a used up Malibu Barbie and with just enough sparkle to skip the gloss which often so sticky it feels like rubber cement gluing your lips together.  Most lip gloss leaves me feeling that if I dare to part my lips after using it either a loud “Pop” will happen when the gloss un-adheres itself from itself or long stringy lines will form between my lips like when you try to remove a piece of pizza and the cheese just keeps holding on.  Clearly, I am not a fan of gloss.  Anyway, when I got there,  I was pleased that it was free gift time and I would get some free stuff to give to Lindsay.   I gave her my order, “4 fried chickens and a coke.”  Oh, wait, wrong order.  I am at Nordstroms.  “2 tubes of LeRouge Absolu, Bordeaux, please.”   They had none on hand.   The nice lady ordered me 2 tubes, sent me home with my free gift with purchase assuring me that in 5-7 days my old friend would arrive.    9 days later, I got a call.  “We are soooooooooooooo sorry.  We have no idea what is going on with that color, we are canceling the order.  Call us if there is anything else you want. “   Fancy make up counter lady,  Say What?  My lipstick is, at best “on a break” and at worst walking out on me after all these years!  Curse you Lancome!  Curse you!  My brain went into a bit of a panic.  I did not want to go searching for a new lipstick.  It would be like dating again. 
After the news of the break up, I used an hour of free time to go into Sephora.  If I am going to buy something, I will go there because 1) it is very convenient. 2) There are not people hovering all over you trying to upsell you eye shadow when you came for lipstick. 3) Despite instantly feeling old(er), wrinkly(er), and ugly(ier) upon entering the door, they have a lot of stuff to choose from.   
I step in the door.  The bright lights and mirrors are somewhat blinding.    The multitude of stuff almost gives me a seizure.  This happens to me at IKEA too.  I become completely overwhelmed.  I walk out the door.  I am not tough enough to do this.  I go to my car.  I examine myself in the mirror.  I am wearing “none” makeup.  When my Lindsay was little she was very good with grammar and rarely offered up a mishap.  But the confusion of no and none happened and we still use it in our home today when we are completely without something.  So there I was back in my car with none make up on.  Old, wrinkly, ugly.  Big sigh.  I look into my tube of Lancome, now so very low that even when I fat out my lips, the tube scrapes them as I try to put it on.  I know I could get a lip brush, but then I would lose the brush in my purse and find that I have painted my checkbook with the last precious drops of my lipstick.  So, I get out of the car, toss it in the garbage, because it is done and I need to move on. 
Back into Sephora.  They are probably calling security because of my abrupt exit a few minutes earlier.  "Crazy lady entering the building" is what they likely say.  I begin to wander the aisles.  I spray myself with some perfume, so I don’t stink.  Or at least if I do, there is a thin layer of botanical loveliness wafting from me, much like pigpen’s cloud that follows him in Peanuts cartoons.  I am picturing my cloud as butterflies and glitter.  Butterflies and Glitter---I am beginning to think I am about 8 years old.  And there is the problem.  My 8 year old can kick my butt at make-up application.  It is a gift.  It is amazing.  She will go play in the make-up and most times come out looking respectable.   I was forsaken in the beauty department.  I am telling you, it is a toss-up day to day if I will look respectable even with 25 years’ experience in make-up application.   I think it goes back to my first lipstick being a frosty pink color and my kind and sensitive brothers saying I looked like a corpse when I proudly exited the bathroom with it on.  They were actually right and since then, and the blue eye shadow days, make-up is somewhat terrifying.  Well, that and a fear of looking like Mimi from Drew Carey.   But at the moment, I am in a cloud of butterflies and glitter and I am going to find a lipstick.  
I begin to really look at lipstick.  Too brown, too orange, too red, too plum, too pink, too salmon, too matte......  I stare at the tubes critically, holding them up to the light.  I am sure I look as though I am examining evidence on CSI.   I don’t care.  Then I see one.  It has promise.  It looks the same.  I put it on.  It turns hot pink.  It is sooooo not hot.  I clean it off.  Then I start looking at names.  I find one that looks pretty good.  It has a non-lame name.  I try it.  I walk away from the mirrors and sniff bubble bath for a bit.  I return to the mirrors.  Still Red! , but not toooooo Red!  It is a keeper!   It’s a miracle!  Dior Addict Extreme #829 “Sunset Blvd” is coming home with me.  And so is some of that bubble bath!  I am going to need it after this outing.  


Jen said...

I fear I'm the "Mimi" type in the lipstick department (and hence my daughter's frequent refusal to wear ANY color whatsoever on her lips). Maybe I should have you take me Sephora?

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