Trust me when I say that you’re going to love this guest blog — I’ve read it at least ten times since Lacie sent it to me and every time I do, I love it even more. But first, let me introduce you to Lacie Powell of POSH by Lacie Powell, your go-to gal for all things shopping, lifestyle, home and event in Seattle and on the Eastside. Lacie and I worked on an event together recently — which she pulled off seamlessly, I might add — and we’ve been chatting back and forth on email ever since. Lacie, thank you for sharing this post with us and filling in for me while I’m gone this week! I think we need a coffee date asap in 2012. xo.
“Your total comes to $295.87.” She smiles wide-eyed, perfectly tweezed eyebrows arched and looks at me as if to say, “Can you afford this?” Then she says it out loud.
“Is that okay?”
Holy mother of Peter. $300 bucks? What the hell did I buy? A fur coat? Diamonds? I panic as I realize my silence is giving me away. I have to regain my composure and pretend like I spend this much on moisturizer and eye shadow every day.
”Oh yeah Gretch. That sounds grrrrreat.” I drag my “R”s out all nasally to add the extra bit of snobbery to pull me through this mortifying situation. Of course it’s okay. It has to be okay. I’m standing at the cosmetics counter at Nordstrom with a line full of people behind me. To have it not be okay would be like standing naked in the middle of….well Nordstrom. Besides, what was I going to say, “Well, the truth is miss, I’m a freak and I get on these kicks where I decide I need a whole new fill in the blank; bedroom set, wardrobe, filing system and in today’s case make-up selection. While I appreciate you spending the last two hours with me and my splotchy face, I decided I won’t be needing any of your products but have a lovely day.”
See what most people don’t realize is, I get on these binges and I go big or I go home. I don’t do anything half-ass and I usually end up in way over my head. Today was a perfect example. I had the day off of work and decided that I could no longer go on living with your every day run of the mill Maybeline blush, mascara and eyeshadow—I had to have the good stuff. I needed a make-up makeover. So I pulled on some jeans, a plain white top and threw a newsboy cap on. I looked in the mirror and decided that while it wasn’t fantastic it was the sort of “I’m so hot I can get away with whatever I want to wear and people will still adore me” look that is suitable for Nordstrom. I pulled into the lot about 20 minutes later and very excited to meet the new me. I approached the counter and explained my situation.
“Hi, there. I’ve decided that I need to start using a new make-up line. I’m not sure what colors to get or anything and I was hoping you could help me.”
“Certainly. We’d be happy to help. What is your current skin regime?”
Ummmm…..well, let’s see. I usually remembered to wash my face in the shower in the morning. “Well, you know…lather, rinse repeat!” I lean on the counter and simultaneously knock over a rack of mini vials (ala Jurassic Park) while smiling in hopes that my charm will get us past this question.
“Haha!” A polite and very fake laugh. “That’s funny. But in all seriousness, skin care is a very significant thing and it will help me to know what sort of background you have.” Are you kidding me with this? This is moisturizer and mascara not the CIA.
“Right, I know. Just a little skincare humor. I use Proactive.” Throwing in something Jessica Simpson endorses has to get me somewhere, right? I smile again hoping I’ve passed the test. She looks concerned and frowns a bit. I consider telling her that frowning will cause premature wrinkles but I decide against it.
She continues, “Right. Okay, and what line of cosmetics are you currently using?” I was starting to get sweaty. “Target kind.” “What dear? Target? I can’t say I’ve ever heard of that.”
“Oh. Uh. I mean I buy it at Target. I don’t remember what kind exactly but it’s verrrry expensive.”
She purses her meticulously matted mauve lips and bends them into a grinch-like grin as I picture one of those little cartoon thought bubbles above her head that reads “Yes, I bet so dear. And monkeys might fly out of my butt.” I clear my throat and consider bolting for the door but realize I would be worse off if I tried to make a run for it and ended up losing a loafer.
“Nevermind dear. Let’s just sit you down over here. I’m going to ask you a few simple questions so I can survey your skin needs.” My skin needs queso and tortilla chips, long walks on the beach and a great party every now and then.
“How often are you in the sun?” Using a tanning bed three times a week doesn’t count right?
“Do you use sunblock?” You mean baby oil?
“How often do you wash your face?” Whenever I remember to.
Would you say you break out all over or just in your T-zone? T-zone, is that like a G-spot? For both our sakes, let’s hope not.
Are you dry or oily? No, I’m not thirsty thank you.
Once we got past the third degree, we got to the part where we tried stuff on.
A cleanser to clean out my pores and get rid of all those nasty toxins that our depleting ozone layer has allowed to pass through and invade my skin. It turns out my nose is a regular war zone.
A toner to regenerate my skin cells—as you get older, they regenerate less and less you know.
A moisturizer to give my dry skin the drink it so desperately needed. I decided maybe I did need a drink after all. Did they have a cosmopolitan?
Eye cream to rid me of dark circles and puffiness from lack of sleep. I should probably wake up an hour earlier than I had been to start my new regime.
A concealer to hide my 23-year-old wrinkles and the zits caused by anxiety and poor diet. Geez, where the hell was my cosmo? Oooh maybe I should order fries too?
Foundation to get rid of splotches that the tanning bed three times a week had given me. But I paid money for those splotches.
Eyeliner and eyeshadow to bring out my eyes since they’re a tad on the beady side.
Mascara because my lashes where thick but not long enough and straighter than an arrow too. What a pity.
Blush and bronzer to give me a nice glow. I had a glow lady, remember? You covered it up with the foundation.
I walked in the door and collapsed on the couch. What was supposed to be an ego boost made me feel like I wasn’t worth the trash Nordstrom set out on their curb each night. Now came the worst part, I had to tell Ken. He got home and noticed the bag on the counter.
“What’s this babe? Did you get some of the new make-up you wanted?” No, I didn’t get some, I got it all and I’m not even sure where to apply 90% of it. Do you know where a t-zone is?
“Yeah, but I think I went a little overboard so I’m probably going to return some of it.”
“Well, why, what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing really, I just shouldn’t have spent that much. It was like $300 or whatever.” All he could do was grin. He knows me too well. My lip started to quiver
“I have to take it back but I’m too embarrassed.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it for you.” My knight and shining armor.
What is perhaps even more shameful than spending $300 and returning it all is that I kept all the little samples you get when you spend a butt-load of money. They are so cute—I imagined little miniature people or Barbie’s using them. I wonder how often Barbie washes her face?
find lacie at POSH by lacie powell
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