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May 8, 2003
No vain, no gain
As you know by now, I have a thing for making confessions in print. In a weird way it is cathartic. Or perhaps it’s just plain weird. My insecurities, paranoia and other assorted quirks are there for the world to see and ridicule (or empathize with) but I don’t seem deterred. This week, my confessional is about my beauty care products collection and my need to add to it or feel deprived of a reason to live.
On a simplistic level, I just have to own them. Them of course refer to an assortment of products, varying from lipsticks to pore strips, from conditioners to foot exfoliating creams. You’d think therefore that I’d be a well-groomed person. Anyone who knows me is probably choking on his/her morning cup of tea right about now because nothing could be further from the truth.
Of course this doesn’t stop me from owning a gazillion tubs of face washes which I have neatly arranged in a line to resemble my version of Karachi’s skyline. I will rearrange them every so often, and if I’m in the mood, I will them dust them occasionally but I will never throw them away. Never mind that I have products older than my dog but just like I can’t imagine parting with Veeru, the same logic applies for my papaya body scrub.
In short, I am the reason companies like Estee Lauder exist — and do such roaring business. They have a department for the likes of me, called “products we know Muna will buy irrespective of our false claims of eternal freedom from blackheads”.
In supermarkets, products with the words “new and improved” are like a magnet, steering me towards them. I will buy a L’Oreal face cream and five days later will splurge on its ‘new and improved’ version. Since my hair follicles have a mind of their own, I am particularly attracted to the words “anti-frizz”. Unfortunately it is never limited to just one product. Once I have bought it, and used it twice, I wait like an eager beaver for the next, new and improved version of it. John Frieda is another success story that can be attributed to the likes of me. He has tons of money while I have frizz.
I know I am not alone. And I know that it’s not just me and people like the Spice Girls who behave this way. I am tempted to start one of those support groups for people “who own 20 tubs of moisturizer but never use them.” We could get together every month and plan charity evenings where the money would go towards curing us of our strange obsession for moisturizer —a hurdle that prevents us from moving on to other beauty products like hair straightening balm.
My friend Meena in Dubai could mint millions off the likes of me if she chose to supply all the latest beauty and skin products in the market directly to customers. All it takes is for someone to say that they’re going to Dubai and I’m on the phone with her with a list of things I simply must have. Bless her for her patience. And bless my male friends who act as the go-between and probably endure strange glances from airport security staff — think Marlboro Man carrying Lancome whitening cream.
Every time I buy a product with the word “miracle” on it, I secretly pray that the miracle is that I remember to use it more than five times. I buy it in the hope that this time, I will be able to stick to my new year’s resolution (made in 1985) and spend time taking care of myself, feeding my soul and body blah blah blah.
The problem is that while such theories of “looking good for yourself first” are extremely important, they don’t really produce results. You have to use skin care products for weeks if not months before you see anything visible. It’s akin to having a relationship — at least it is for me.
If only these companies could take a lesson out of dangerous drugs and come up with something similar to a hit of cocaine but for the face with no dangerous side affects. It’s like asking for a great paying job where you do nothing. (Although I know a few people here who have exactly that position and their skins are always glowing.)
Let’s face it: it costs to look good. I’ve got the cost part figured out but I have to work on actually investing in the product that I have invested in.
We live in a fast paced world — which should be obvious by the fact that you now get shampoo and conditioner in one bottle. Life’s too short to count on six weeks to remove fine lines from face — especially when skin polishing gives results in an hour. But I’d rather be old fashioned and stick with buying products than rushing off to get peeled, zapped, high tech exfoliated etc. I prefer being weird to looking weird.
I’d like to borrow something Observer columnist Barbara Ellen wrote: “[Beauty products] are a bit like democracy — they might actually work, but who’ll ever use them long enough to find out?” There’s nothing wrong with being vain. I should know. I’m a lazy version of it.
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