Last week, I was “treated” to more than $1,500 worth of beauty products on my face (didn’t get to keep them — just try them out). They are supposed to change Life As I Know It. I eagerly await the transformation.
This all started out so innocently. A few weeks ago I strolled up to a cosmetics counter in Macy’s to buy a lipstick. That’s it. A pink product in a little tube. The Brand Representative (no such thing as a simple clerk, anymore) was enthused over the fact that as the highlight of an upcoming beauty event, six national makeup artists from her brand were flying in to do free makeup sessions in the store. She noted, looking at me critically, (I was wearing concealer and ChapStick) that I might really benefit from this celestial event. So I let her make an appointment for me.
I should note here that I am no beauty products novice. I had a long professional career requiring at least minimal skin care and cosmetics and at 63, I have lived through (and mostly ignored) countless breakthrough trends — mink oil, pearl dust, caviar, vitamin infusions, miracle enzymes, The Pinks, The Autumns, The Emeralds, The New Nudes, The Millenium Metallics and on and on. For the past several years I have dedicated my life to volunteer work and have (happily) retired most of the face stuff (along with pantyhose).