Scaredy Cat

I'll admit it, I am scared of those elegant women at the make-up counters of department stores.  Their sheer elegance, flawlessly made up faces and terrific hairstyles make me cringe.  I envy anyone with the self confidence needed to sit down in the public eye so to speak and have a makeover performed on them.

I once got trapped into having a makeover of sorts or at least of trying out some new make-up.  I was prowling as inconspicuously as I could at my favourite cosmetics counter when an assistant pounced on me.  'Can I help you?' she purred and then on my mumbling something about 'just looking at some make-up', she produced a tube with lightning speed and suggested I try it.  Before I could gather what few wits I have, I found myself seated in a chair with the assistant applying make-up and advising me at the same time on what to do about my red and dry skin, all of which could be helped by one cream apparently.  When I looked in the mirror I had to admit that there was a general improvement and I was persuaded to buy the moisturizing cream to help my "little skin problem" as she put it.  In the end I bought the new foundation and also the magic cream, both excellent products I hasten to add, but way above my modest budget.  I know it's worth paying for quality cosmetics but having had to economize all my life, I always feel a bit guilty spending a lot on myself.

Looking back I have to admit that the encounter with the assistant was not guaranteed to boost my morale.  She was pleasant but very impersonal and in a discreet way she was pushy.  That's her job and I am not carping at it.  I am only saying that even though I felt good with the results of her labours, I also felt that I must have looked a wreck before she took me in hand.  But that's more down to me than to the sales assistant.  I know lots of women who love having makeovers and don't care if the whole stores looks on.  I even know one or two who will ask to try different things or reject the assistant's suggestions, something I wouldn't have the courage to do.

So if I'm inspecting a cosmetics counter I will still keep a wary eye out for any approaching assistant and I will move on before she can make me over. But I think I've matured enough to know that in the long run, no one can make you feel good except yourself and not all the lavish attention of a beauty expert is going to change that.  Kind of reassuring, isn't it?

Just Looking

I must be every shop assistant's idea of a shop lifter.  This was borne in upon me yet again last weekend when I went on a browse.  No sooner than I had stopped at the first beauty counter than an assistant appeared out of thin air and honed in on me.
'Can I help you?' she purred.  I told her I was "just looking".  She ignored this feeble statement and with a practised eye noted that I had been looking at face creams.  She picked up a tube of serum guaranteed to iron out even wrinkles you didn't know you had and have you looking younger than you did at 15.  The price tag would have done justice to buying shares in the Waldorf Astoria.   'This is on special offer only this weekend,' she said, holding it out to me enticingly  'Try it.'  I muttered something and moved away but she kept hovering at my side and as soon as I looked at anything on the counter she was there to tell me what great stuff it was.  It was as if she thought I'd pocket something if she didn't keep a sharp lookout. In the end I slunk off without buying anything.  I was even too discouraged to try a sample squirt of one of the new perfumes. 

Of course I should have had more back-bone and kept on browsing, but with a shop assistant keeping a sharp eye on me - or so it seemed to me - I just didn't feel comfortable.  And yet what are all those glass counters for, if not to browse what's on display and maybe buy something that catches your fancy and doesn't bankrupt you?  Half of the fun is window-shopping and in these days of cold austerity it takes longer than usual to decide what you want to buy and what you can afford.  Oh for someone who says "if you need any help let me know" and then goes off and leaves you to it.  Nine times out of ten that's when I make a purchase. On the rare occasions when I really need advice the assistant is usually out of eye-reach attending some glamorous, well heeled customer.  Ah well, that's Murphy's Law, I suppose. 

To be fair, I guess many of these sales ladies are bored.  They've learned all about the products and are dying to impart this information to prospective customers.  The only trouble is that prospective customers like myself prefer to browse in peace and quiet.  Otherwise we take ourselves off to the unmanned counters where we can look all we like.