Wednesday, July 6th, 2005
For a beauty editor, there are no two more horrific words in the English language than “beauty sale.”* If you think a beauty sale means “a fun day where you bring $15 to the office and get $100 worth of beauty loot while chatting with your colleagues and avoiding work,” you are dead wrong. In actuality, a beauty sale is a monstrous day of carnage, where otherwise civilized women suddenly morph into growling packs of wolves, greedily dumping entire drawers of products indiscriminately into bags as fast as their little hands can act.Beauty sales turn normally charitable women into snarling penny pinchers. After an hour or two, if a surplus of products is left, it’s common for items to go on sale—maybe 10 items for a dollar. Despite the knowledge that all products are insanely discounted, with profits going to charity, it’s embarrassingly common for women to try and bargain you down, arguing, for example, that they should only have to pay 80 cents, since they have only eight makeup items. At our beauty sales, it’s gotten so bad that we don’t have “last call” anymore—if you don’t buy it at “full price” (for a freakin’ dollar, people!), we’ll either save it for the next sale, or send it straight to a charity.I, thankfully, have not had to run a beauty sale in many years. I do not think my poor heart—or my somehow still enduring love for humanity—could survive it.*A quick primer: for those of you not in the know, a beauty sale happens once or twice a year at magazines, when the beauty department rounds up all sorts of products, organizes them in a conference room, and sells everything at a major discount (usually at a dollar) for charity. Mayhem ensues.