My youngest daughter and I were on a quest this afternoon. She wanted loose, translucent, face powder. Something to dance in that would not feel heavy, or run, or leave a mark on her clothes, or rub off. I had that kind of powder at home in America in my bathroom cupboard, but somehow it got left behind. Except, what am I thinking? My powder would not do at all!
“Simon’s probably using it!” she quipped half heartedly. He probably is, I thought, to tone down the little red scars on his body builder, almost flawless, torso after his emergency operation.
She wants powder made from minerals. It’s kind to her skin. It’s not so kind to her wallet. Was I an extravagant shopper at nineteen? I no longer have anyone to ask that question.
“The cheap stuff makes me break out…” she proclaims. To which I suggest it’s the applicator, the brush, or the puff, that makes her break out, or the continual touching of her face that she does unconsciously, not the “cheap stuff “as she calls the loose, translucent powder I have successfully used since I was nineteen without any eruptions on my face.
“Well, you are you…I am me…” Wow, I raised such an articulate child. Sounds like a Beatles’ lyric to me.
Because I suggest we go on a quest to find the Coty loose powder, it now has a name because she’s found it on Amazon.co.uk at a price, she agrees to try this non mineral, less expensive powder…if I am buying?
We head into Bromley with a list, I have a few errands to run while I’m using my bus pass. She’s compliant but not entirely happy about the errands part of the excursion so, ever the great Mum who loves all the kuddos she can get, I devise a distraction that has to do with charity shops and skirts. This works like a charm and I manage all the errands while she shop hops in search of the perfect skirt. We finally spend 4 little pounds and I’ve managed to deliver bills, notices and pick up an order at the linen shop.
We then go to the department store and enquire about Coty loose powder,
“You won’t find any in Bromley, you’ll have to go up to London I’m afraid.” said the beautiful Chanel representative.
“No loose powder at all in Bromley?” I ask disbelievingly.
“Oh yes, we all have our own loose powder, do you want me to show you Chanel’s?”
We did and were suitably horrified by the 33 pound price tag.
We left for Super Drug. There’s a whole lot more I’d rather do with 33 pounds than put it on my face while I am dancing just because it feels light, doesn’t run, smear or rub off. But then that’s what I would rather do…and since I’m paying my decision sticks.
At Super Drug we find a couple of choices for a mere 8 pounds, suddenly the price becomes relative.
“In America, ” I start.
“But we’re not in America!” My savvy daughter reminds me.
We go for the name we recognise and today my daughter went out wearing something to dance in on her face and she said it felt light. Then she rubbed her face without thinking,
“Oops, did I just rub it all off?” she asked as she turned towards me for inspection. Not a smear in sight and nothing on her hands.
Thanks Max.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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