Want to find me.. I will be at the bar with a glass in my hand, but not eating the nuts... bar nuts are sort of scary.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Are you being served?

Along with the ‘Wisdom of the Elders’… comes ‘Fine Lines around The Eyes’. Morning,  I notice that my old beauty routine is perhaps not up to scratch.  Well, then again, perhaps it never was.  Considering that most of the tricks and tips that I use today came from Cosmopolitan Magazine in 1980. 

So I bit the bullet and took myself to the TOTALLY intimidating Perfumery in this One Horse Town.  It is not my first visit, usually I just slip into buy a nice soap or a shower gel as a gift (yep, if you invite me to your party… you are getting soap!).  Today, I decided I needed something to hide the multitude of sins that have taken up Squatter’s Rights on the face I present to the public.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me choose a new foundation make-up?”  I was trying to be charming, all the while, wishing I had thought to wear something other than my muddy walking boots and the comfy argyle knit sweater with the hole in the sleeve. 

She was all eyelashes and perfect complexion.  You just know when someone has sized you up in the blink of an eye.  Terminator III had nothing on this girl. 

“Well, what brand would you like?”  As she speaks, she surreptitiously glances at her own reflection in the many mirrors that surround us, and, with her little finger, dabs at the corner of her perfect red lipstick.

“I was hoping you would help with that…”  At this moment she has caught sight of my ragged fingernails and dishpan hands.  A little sigh escapes, a glimpse of tiny, shiny, white teeth… like you might find on a piranha.

red lilps

“Yes, of course, but what I suggest is a good product might not be the same for one person, as it is for someone else..someone else might find it does not suit them.”  Then nothing.  I don’t quite know where to go with this.

“But could you at least tell me if it is the right colour?” I vaguely point in the direction of We-Promise-Miracle-And-Take-Your-Money, Paris office, hoping this will not cost me more than my last car.

With a brisk nod, she starts opening and closing drawers.  Those tiny white teeth come out and start to chew on her perfect red lips.  I study her carefully and am delighted to notice that she has a little earwax peeking out. 

“Either of these two would be suitable.”  And immediately starts to use my face as a palette.  Slapping first one side with make-up and then the other with a shade darker.  With a quick about face, she marches over to a round mirror situated near a bright window.  “Perhaps the light is better for you over here?”

Obedient child… I follow in her perfumed wake.  Bend at the waist and peer into the mirror she is holding.  Gasp!  Who is that woman.  This is the mirror from hell.  The fine lines around my eyes are now tantamount to moon craters.  The spidery red lines on my cheek have become raging red rivers. My ungroomed eyebrows, an overgrown black jungle, complete with, what I now believe, is a smear of toothpaste.  Did I really leave the house looking like this.

“Fine, I’ll take it!”  I want out.. fast.  I point to the right side of my face, hoping to god that I don’t look insane.  I don’t ask how much, I don’t care… I just want to get away.

“Would madam like a sample?”

Sure, whatever… just let me out.

When I arrived home, I discover a little gift at the bottom of the bag.  Concentrated Anti-Wrinkle Eye Cream.

Subtle… Me thinks not.


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