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I'm going clubbing tonight with some friends, and we're wearing costumes, kind of--in the sense of sexy tights and horns, not in the sense of actually attempting to depict anything. I pretty much don't wear makeup at all these days, but this is the sort of outfit that calls for it, so I decided I wanted some dark purple lipstick. Last time I bought lipstick that looked purple in the tube it actually turned out to be red, so first I googled "purple lipstick reviews" to find some pictures of people comparing different shades. I took notes on my phone organizing them in order of preference and trotted off to Target to buy me some facepaint.
Target had none of them. I asked if they had any dark purple at all, thinking I could google-image it on my phone, and the salesperson said no. No? Okay, there are like four colors that lipstick can be, right? Red, pink, brown, purple. Target has aisles and aisles of makeup and they only have three of the four options? That's like a Bed, Bath & Beyond that only sells beds and beyond.
She shrugged and offered me a shade of vaguely purplish red that was nowhere near what I wanted, then directed me across the street to Nordstrom with a warning that it would be expensive. I went warily, telling myself that if they tried to charge me more than twenty bucks I'd just use black eyeliner on my lips like I did at Pride.
I found Nordstrom's rack of MAC testers and blinked at them for a moment before asking someone else perusing them if she knew where the names were. A salesperson magically appeared as I asked the question (there was not even anything for her to have been hiding behind, I have no idea where the hell she materialized from) and plucked a tube from the rack to show me, as she and the other customer chorused with matching tones of disbelief, "They're on the bottom."
Oookay. Clearly I missed a few lessons in How To Be A Girl school. I checked a few of the darker tubes and found one marked "Cyber," my second choice. "How much is this?" I asked the salesperson.
"They're all fifteen dollars."
"Okay, I'll take it," I intended to say, but before I opened my mouth, she had once again vanished into whatever spacetime portal she clearly had at her disposal. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out what customer service protocol could possibly incorporate Disapparating right before an obvious sale. The other customer continued to browse, pointedly averting her eyes from me.
Eventually I tracked down another salesperson with a little more respect for the laws of physics and asked if they had my first-choice shade. "Hm," she said. "I don't think so. Do you know what collection that's from? It might have been limited-edition."
Lipstick comes in collections? There are four colors, how do they make collections out of that? "Sorry, I'm not sure," I said. "I'll just get the Cyber, then."
"Sure, I just need to finish up with my appointment and I'll get that to you in a minute."
Oh. You're supposed to make appointments to buy lipstick. I did not know that. "Take your time," I said, and stood around awkwardly some more. The other customer by the MAC rack had somehow summoned the first salesperson, who was doing something to one of the tubes. As I watched, she handed it over to the customer, who applied it directly to her lips. I began to wonder if there was a makeup acquisition user's manual somewhere I could consult.
Fortunately, the other salesperson reappeared with the Cyber before I managed to actively set anything on fire. She whisked me off to a register--she didn't actually touch me, but the way she guided me there was impressively forceful. As she rang me up, she complimented my week-and-a-half-old brick-and-mortar-patterned nails and asked if I wanted a bag.
I looked at my purchase dubiously. "Do people really ask for a bag for one tube of lipstick?" I asked.
"Well," she said. "It says MAC on it."
"Oh," I said, baffled, and stowed my new lipstick in the pouch of my flour-dusted Phoenix Coyotes hoodie.
Maybe next time I'll plan ahead and order this shit online.
Target had none of them. I asked if they had any dark purple at all, thinking I could google-image it on my phone, and the salesperson said no. No? Okay, there are like four colors that lipstick can be, right? Red, pink, brown, purple. Target has aisles and aisles of makeup and they only have three of the four options? That's like a Bed, Bath & Beyond that only sells beds and beyond.
She shrugged and offered me a shade of vaguely purplish red that was nowhere near what I wanted, then directed me across the street to Nordstrom with a warning that it would be expensive. I went warily, telling myself that if they tried to charge me more than twenty bucks I'd just use black eyeliner on my lips like I did at Pride.
I found Nordstrom's rack of MAC testers and blinked at them for a moment before asking someone else perusing them if she knew where the names were. A salesperson magically appeared as I asked the question (there was not even anything for her to have been hiding behind, I have no idea where the hell she materialized from) and plucked a tube from the rack to show me, as she and the other customer chorused with matching tones of disbelief, "They're on the bottom."
Oookay. Clearly I missed a few lessons in How To Be A Girl school. I checked a few of the darker tubes and found one marked "Cyber," my second choice. "How much is this?" I asked the salesperson.
"They're all fifteen dollars."
"Okay, I'll take it," I intended to say, but before I opened my mouth, she had once again vanished into whatever spacetime portal she clearly had at her disposal. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out what customer service protocol could possibly incorporate Disapparating right before an obvious sale. The other customer continued to browse, pointedly averting her eyes from me.
Eventually I tracked down another salesperson with a little more respect for the laws of physics and asked if they had my first-choice shade. "Hm," she said. "I don't think so. Do you know what collection that's from? It might have been limited-edition."
Lipstick comes in collections? There are four colors, how do they make collections out of that? "Sorry, I'm not sure," I said. "I'll just get the Cyber, then."
"Sure, I just need to finish up with my appointment and I'll get that to you in a minute."
Oh. You're supposed to make appointments to buy lipstick. I did not know that. "Take your time," I said, and stood around awkwardly some more. The other customer by the MAC rack had somehow summoned the first salesperson, who was doing something to one of the tubes. As I watched, she handed it over to the customer, who applied it directly to her lips. I began to wonder if there was a makeup acquisition user's manual somewhere I could consult.
Fortunately, the other salesperson reappeared with the Cyber before I managed to actively set anything on fire. She whisked me off to a register--she didn't actually touch me, but the way she guided me there was impressively forceful. As she rang me up, she complimented my week-and-a-half-old brick-and-mortar-patterned nails and asked if I wanted a bag.
I looked at my purchase dubiously. "Do people really ask for a bag for one tube of lipstick?" I asked.
"Well," she said. "It says MAC on it."
"Oh," I said, baffled, and stowed my new lipstick in the pouch of my flour-dusted Phoenix Coyotes hoodie.
Maybe next time I'll plan ahead and order this shit online.
