I am a product junkie.
My obsession started way back when. You see, I grew up in a Prell (awful, green smelly shampoo) and yellow Dial soap house. That was it. There were no choices, there were no alternatives, you used what was bought and that was that.
My mom always had Ponds cold cream and a good ole' jar o' Vaseline. A few little products, but the woman had her hair done once a week, so she was not styling with the products. And since she was fairly au naturel (and beautifully so), make-up-wise, she did not suddenly spring to keep up with Joneses for products nor did she care.
My sister started to buy Jhirmack. Jhirmack was what I considered a highfalutin’ hair product chain way back when and I just thought we'd become royalty. I was SO sure my hair was 20 times better, that it was outrageously more beautiful and it became a daily discussion in my grade school classroom. As my sister got a little older, she slowly started to accumulate a few more items (which I eventually tampered with and made my own). When she moved out, I was left with the skeleton of what was once a small mesh of products.
My best friend growing up, E, had a product junkie of a mother. Their bathroom counter (a double-sinked one, mind you) was covered inch to inch, corner to corner with stuff. She let us go to hell and high-water to play with everything. Since E was a tomboy, I felt like I had my own boudoir, filled with lipsticks, lip pencils, lip shine, lip crease enhancers, eye shadow, crease filler, mascara wands, eyebrow pencils, cheek highlighters, blushes, rouges and marked bottles of glop that I was sure would transform my rotund, pre-pubescent shape into that of a leggy supermodel.
Not.
When I started to work, I was able to start my slow journey into the world of products. Of course, my first job came around the time that people still bought the white-bottle Aqua Net for 99 cents to make sure their surf-wave of a hair-do could sustain earth, wind and fire. I could afford to buy a little Wet n' Wild (which to people who are not familiar, the line is similar to "Aziza"…FOOF!!)
As the years went on, my small addiction became larger. But these were my "drugstore" addiction days.
My years as a perfume sprayer at the Marshall Fields on State Street in beautiful, downtown Chicago started a whole new, upper-class level of addiction as I was surrounded by the fine and uppity lines from Chanel, Dior, Mac and several others that I got at discount prices as an employee. Since I was sensitive to the smells, I tried to stay far away from being an overzealous sprayer and concentrated on being best friends with at least one person per counter. My little apartment slowly filled up with vials, jars, creams, shower gels/lotions, hair junk for ever type of style, flasks and all sorts of pretty scented lotions.
Working hair shows and getting free bags of goods was like an addict getting their score. For a mere day of getting my hair done into strange do's, I would get my rush. Upon returning home, I would carefully place every jug, every sample, ever beautifully marked family of bottles in special places in my everso populated care cabinet.
These days, I keep it to a duller roar. I don't have the pull I used to with make-up counters, the money or the time. The real irony of this campaign of products is, I really don't wear a whole lot of make-up. I do not overuse or abuse hair stuff. I try to keep the scent-wearing to natural stuff and on the down-low. I wear lotion consistently (and thanks to T for my two new jugs of wonderful lotion!). I have a large BAG of lipsticks, a seperate one for eye stuff, and several small ones for skin-care, etc. I guess having all the product makes me feel like if I should go down the path of needing it, everything I need it at my disposal. My shower is like a small chemistry set. I switch things out every few weeks to keep things interesting. I have a special cabinet chock-full with my goods.
Ironically, I still have bars of yellow Dial soap. Dermatologists says it’s the best thing for your skin AND hair. Who knew? I guess my parents were really onto something and not just making me suffer.
P.S.
Marshall Fields.
If you have never heard of Marshall Fields, it is a staple in the Midwest, but mostly in Chicago. Its an amazing department store that has the feel of Bloomingdale's, but still manages to make common-folk feel welcome. The State Street location I spoke of is one of the most spectacular old buildings from the outside to the inside.
Their windows are a well-known Christmas-time with a location near-to perfect.
Sadly, the new owners are turning this amazing Chicago landmark into Macys in the year 2006. To learn more about Marshall Fields history, check out:
http://www.fields.com/common/store_history.jsp
or
http://chicago.urban-history.org/sites/d_stores/fields.htm
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