Yesterday marked an impromptu talk given by *don’t say it* YOURS TRULY *ack, Rotary Club moment* on verbatim, “the purpose of base makeup,” with discussion points being “Is it more crucial than skincare?” and ”How much should you apply?”. Holla. I can hear the eye-rolls but hey, super important points, especially in fonda-crazed Manila.
I agreed to give the talk despite my terrible congestedness — I am currently in under of weather state — since Raizelle of Paul & Joe is an old industry friend and an all-around good soul. That, and she basically pacified me with the fact that only their V.V.V.I.P. clients would be going. Thanks. I felt so much better.
A babbly 15 minutes later, in the middle of my defense of the importance of midday retouching during the uglifying hours of 2:00-3:00pm (true story), one of their Extremely V.V.V.I.P’s crept in and asked for five pieces of their bestselling primer. My heart skipped a beat — five at once? A gal after my own heart, ohemgeez, could it be? I asked around; turns out this sudden panic-buying spurt was brought on by a previous out-of-stock experience, where Paul & Joe ran out of one of the most favoritest and most vital products in said E.V.V.V.I.P.’s arsenal. Overcompensation at its most justified, I say. Looking around at all the attentive faces — the vein-color undertone technique seemed like quite the attention-grabber — I commended this woman. She is in a safe space.
The beauty horror story of the discontinued product is one that still gives me the willies. I know, it’s incredibly OTT, yet at the risk of sounding pretentious I must say that once a woman finds a brand and a product she loves, much like the pig in the proverbial story, she commits, most of the time to the death. In this overconsumerized world where we’re bombarded with a bajillion choices, finding that one fantastic product that fits you on all counts is near impossible (insert rom-com title here). How many of us have found that one sublime fragrance, only to have it in über-frustrating “limited edition” quantities? And for that matter, what constitutes “limited edition,” anyways? It seems like everything that looks and smells vaguely delicious is touted as “limited edition,” which, naturally, makes it sell out twice as fast. Does this golden-ticket phrase depend on the brand’s actual market number? Is it ten, fifty, a hundred-thousand-zillion?
I attended a fragrance event where the brand’s principal said that the scent they were giving us was extremely limited-edition, that only a thousand were being sold at counters all over the world (gasps everywhere — I counted the editors in attendance: yikes, now there were only 990 in existence on Earth! Yes, I made it an issue.). Even worse, he said that generally once a fragrance has been “discontinued,” regardless of its present availability, all surplus stock would be thrown into a raging blaze (I kid you not) and literally burnt at the stake. And overzealous sales associates — even those annoying perfume hawkers, those who almost bowl you over with their bottle-bearing enthusiasm — would be persecuted (okay fine, chastised) for wearing a scent that was already removed from the market.
WTH! Did we just revert back to the 1600s!?
What is the meaning of this? What is the meaning of life? Do you know how many poor people there are in Africa who would die to smell like “a delectable infusion of iris, orange blossom, and the effect of a droplet of water on a woman’s skin?” In this age of recession and economic turmoil, these bizarre consumer habits should definitely be brought under scrutiny.
Almost all ladies I’ve met have mom stories — those that start with “My mom is such a fan of suchandsuch, she’s used it forever” — on Oil of Olay or Pond’s Cold Cream or Revlon Charlie, on classics that have stood the test of time. My own mother, an ex-flight stewardess back when they were called flight stewardesses, can’t stop raving about Maybelline Great Lash and its smudge-proof perks 10,000 feet above the atmosphere; her vanity used to smell like Chanel No. 5, her poison of choice, and to this day the scent, which I find a bit cloying myself, still reminds me of locking myself in her boudoir, playing with her makeup. Such is the power of a classic, and when that elixir of power is *emphasis, spittle* discontinued by heartless men in suits who don’t know jack, a part of you dies a little. So for all beauty’s novelties, there is something to be said for oldie-but-goodies that could care less about their status on the trend meter. Take THAT, limited edition fools!
Anyhoot. Have a classic Halloween, full of spooky, ghoulish goodness and lots of drink-drank-drunken fun (wear lots of perfume — its 2008!). Stay tuned for our costume party gallery in the week to come, and send in your glammest costume pics for a chance to win a makeup consultation and bragging rights as our Style Star. You have seven days, ma-material girls. Mua-ha-ha-ha-haaa.
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