A giant let-down

For a while now, I have been looking forward to getting to the mall and buying some new make-up. (If I have any male readers, you can just stop now before I start boring you to tears.) I have realized of late that the make-up I discovered and became beholden to in my late 20s just isn't cutting it for the mid-to-late 30s skin I find myself with. So sad, really. Since I have never been to Sephora, and my friends all swear by it, I was sure it would be the answer to my skin care and make-up woes.

First, I was sure that angels would sing as I walked through the doors. Then, I was pretty sure that the employees would possess the supernatural ability to find for me a make-up which was light as a feather, but yet would cover the imperfections that have surfaced on my face in the last few years, forcing me to begin to come to terms that I do, indeed, look my age.

When I arrived at the store, angels did not sing. In fact, I was so overwhelmed by the sheer size of the store, it was like one of those moments in a cheesy tv show where the music is playing and then it screeches to a halt. Yep. That overwhelming. Next, I met a "make-up artist" (clearly they use that term loosely), who basically told me I could forget getting good coverage without feeling like I was wearing any make-up. Really? Not the best sales technique from off the block. So, I told her I'd been hearing really great things about the Bare Escentuals mineral make-up and that it was my understanding that these magic minerals could cover flawlessly without my feeling a thing. She squashed the dream. But agreed to apply some Bare Escentuals for me to see what I could acheive with it. Oh, Clinique Double Pressed Powder, you kick the hiney of the Bare Escentuals magic minerals.

As politely as I could, I pointed out that this was not quite the magic I was seeking and asked if she had anything else in a non-liquid make-up that she could recommend. She reluctantly led me to some new product that literally has a vibrating applicator. It was heads and shoulders above the Bare Escentuals (how MANY times must I type that?), so I decided to give it a shot. She would have let me leave the store with just the one product if I had wanted to - even though I TOLD HER I was looking for a whole new makeup regime. I finally talked her into selling me some primer (that she suggested because I had mentioned that the pores get awfully big in the late-ish 30s). We shall see what primer will do. I'm not convinced, but I was so disappointed in the lack of magic potions being offered, I had to try something.

If you ever meet the "make-up artist" in the Sephora at Lenox, do tell her for me that she could have sold me all manner of eye creams and concealers and bronzers and eye shadows if only she'd tried to convince me they would make me look young again. Was that too much to ask from a woman on commission? LIE to me. Don't crush my dreams. For real!

I came out of the magical land that is Sephora with the following two realizations: 1) I'm going to have to make peace with my age and the skin that comes along with it (until I can afford and work up the courage for surgery) and 2) If I want somebody to lie to me about what make-up can do, I'm just going to have to head back to the Clinique counter at the Macys.

On a more positive note, the angels apparently did sing to Pressley as we entered the store. She wouldn't have been any happier if I had taken her to a candy store. She ran around for a solid 30 minutes saying things like: Oh, mommy, I looooove this! What is it? Oooh, look mommy, PINK! Oh...I want this for Christmas. Will Santa bring me this? Look at this lovely shade of pink lip gloss. Can I have it?

Oh, and speaking of Santa... He was sitting right outside the Sephora. Before the make-up shopping, we simply stopped and looked and gave a little half-hearted wave. I asked if she'd like to sit in his lap and she insisted that later would be a better time. But, then, over lunch we (and by that I mean Pressley) talked incessantly about Santa. And she announced that we would go back to see him after lunch. I was not real excited about hiking all the way back to the other end of the mall, but figured if there was any hope of getting her to have her picture made with Santa this year, we would need to do it in baby steps. So, off we went. She took a candy cane from him, gave him "five", told him she wanted a pink mira (or mirror for most folks) for Christmas, and waved good-bye. This is significant progress since last year. Remember this?

I'm marking it as a W.