A Smart Girl in A Material World
The mall. While I try to avoid it, there are just some things I need that I can't get elsewhere. So today I trekked to fashionista central for some ritual snubbing by the cosmetic counter clerks who think hawking overpriced "beauty" products is a stepping stone to (insert fashion designer, actress, model, kept woman, etc. here).
These women were high school mean girls who somehow managed to find a place in the world where they can get paid to pout and primp and make other women feel bad about themselves. Of course, they (usually) have to smile and make nice to the customers while selectively inserting snide comments disguised as friendly chatter ("You're, uh, look, is really, uh, natural, huh?). Since way back in junior high when Marti (my mother) first "let" me wear make up, I've felt overwheming anxiety about the mall make up counters. First, the lighting: Harsh flourescent lights are a perfect way to shame women into binging on beauty products. Then of course the helpful sales women: They wear theater makeup, which is the only way anyone could look good in that lighting. This allows them to retain their egos while demolishing mine.
Somehow the counter divas always seem to recognize that I'm not only not one of them but that I' don't particualrly feel all that comfortable with the cosmetic counter experience. So now when I make the dreaded trip to the mall for the few products I'm convinced I need, I'm all ready for battle. I wait for the carefully crafted insult-compliments designed to coerce me into purchasing more than the moisturizer and coverup so vital to my "natural look."
Today was worse than usual. I knew I wanted a specific product, but the sales girl was busy giving a make over. She mumbled the obligatory "Be right with you" so I waited, then another woman came. Apparently, there were two divas at the counter, and the other woman found the second one while I waited. So I went over to the cash register and waited there, where both divas were ringing up purchases. A new woman had joined the line, and she was helped next. The first sales girl knew I had been there the longest and didn't even make the customary "I'm sorry for the wait, we'll be right with you" overture. So I left and went to Big Department Store Number 2. At this counter there was one woman working and she was helping two customers. She did not look up once to say "I'll be right with you" or any of the other expected expressions that acknowledge another person's existence. So then a couple more women began gathering around, and eventually a second counter jockey appeared with another customer. I knew if I waited I'd be last again, not because I'm a victim of cosmetic counter cruelty but because I just can't stomach the idea of competing with other women for the pleasure of spending my money on goop I've been brainwashed into believing is vital to maintaining my grasp on the elusive feminine mystique since I got my first subscription to 17 .
So in the end, my ego won (for a change) and I bailed. Instead of spending upwards of 20 bucks on a beauty potion, I went home and found a DIY site that taught me how to make my own. Now I have one less reason to go to the mall.
To make your own goop, check out http://www.thesite.org/healthandwellbeing/appearance/skincare/diybeauty
These women were high school mean girls who somehow managed to find a place in the world where they can get paid to pout and primp and make other women feel bad about themselves. Of course, they (usually) have to smile and make nice to the customers while selectively inserting snide comments disguised as friendly chatter ("You're, uh, look, is really, uh, natural, huh?). Since way back in junior high when Marti (my mother) first "let" me wear make up, I've felt overwheming anxiety about the mall make up counters. First, the lighting: Harsh flourescent lights are a perfect way to shame women into binging on beauty products. Then of course the helpful sales women: They wear theater makeup, which is the only way anyone could look good in that lighting. This allows them to retain their egos while demolishing mine.
Somehow the counter divas always seem to recognize that I'm not only not one of them but that I' don't particualrly feel all that comfortable with the cosmetic counter experience. So now when I make the dreaded trip to the mall for the few products I'm convinced I need, I'm all ready for battle. I wait for the carefully crafted insult-compliments designed to coerce me into purchasing more than the moisturizer and coverup so vital to my "natural look."
Today was worse than usual. I knew I wanted a specific product, but the sales girl was busy giving a make over. She mumbled the obligatory "Be right with you" so I waited, then another woman came. Apparently, there were two divas at the counter, and the other woman found the second one while I waited. So I went over to the cash register and waited there, where both divas were ringing up purchases. A new woman had joined the line, and she was helped next. The first sales girl knew I had been there the longest and didn't even make the customary "I'm sorry for the wait, we'll be right with you" overture. So I left and went to Big Department Store Number 2. At this counter there was one woman working and she was helping two customers. She did not look up once to say "I'll be right with you" or any of the other expected expressions that acknowledge another person's existence. So then a couple more women began gathering around, and eventually a second counter jockey appeared with another customer. I knew if I waited I'd be last again, not because I'm a victim of cosmetic counter cruelty but because I just can't stomach the idea of competing with other women for the pleasure of spending my money on goop I've been brainwashed into believing is vital to maintaining my grasp on the elusive feminine mystique since I got my first subscription to 17 .
So in the end, my ego won (for a change) and I bailed. Instead of spending upwards of 20 bucks on a beauty potion, I went home and found a DIY site that taught me how to make my own. Now I have one less reason to go to the mall.
To make your own goop, check out http://www.thesite.org/healthandwellbeing/appearance/skincare/diybeauty
posted by Ms. at 4:05 PM
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