Sephora

I have a confession. I use Sephora, dare I say, abuse Sephora. There is a location across from my office in Soho and each morning I apply my eye primer at home and say to myself "gosh, I don't have a color to match these moss green pants/purple suede shoes/brown silk top, I better hold off on eye shadow till i get to work."

Off the subway I duck into the store as the manager is ending her morning employee meeting and the security guard checks me out, for he long ago stopped smiling at me. I honestly think I may be the first customer to hit their store each day at opening. It's to the point of "oh, here comes that tall frizzy haired girl again..." and may be followed by "...the poor thing can't afford any of her own eye shadows." This cute little asian chick always asks if she can help me, and every time I tell her no thanks. They don't seem to watch me like a hawk so I'm going to assume they don't think I steal their eye shadows but I still feel a bit queezy. That is...until I see the lines and lines of colors, array of summer pallets, smudges, mascaras to volumize, sleekify, elongate, oh - the choice don't stop! Do I want pink kitten or cinnamon karma as the base coat? Do I line my lower lid in Oregon Green or Full Moon Blue? Yes, these are the choices I have to make.

I was thinking of bringing in my own brushes next time, but I'm worried they'll think I'm taking theirs so I've been resisting the urge so far. Hum. We'll see. Perhaps another time.