I went home for Passover last Tuesday, to my parents' house near Boston, and stayed until this afternoon - a bit longer than planned, because despite all kinds of familial angst it felt kind of therapeutic to have my mom taking care of me, and because I kept thinking that I was going to get all kinds of work done, which never happened...but so it goes. Also because they have cable.
Anyway, in true suburban fashion, I went to the mall with my mom yesterday afternoon. Coming out of Macy's, we got accosted by this plump blonde girl working one of those little cart things that they have lining the hallways of the mall, selling stuff like mongrammed teddy bears and cell phone covers and pseudo-ethnic woven bags and shit. This one was devoted to pushing the Ella Cosmetics skin care line, imported from Israel, endowed with the apparently miraculous powers of Dead Sea salts. "Ladies, let me ask you, do you like to have nice skin?" the plump blonde girl called out to us, and I stopped, because I do like to have nice skin, and my mom stopped too but, blunt as usual, said, "Oh, this stuff. I got trapped into this here the other day. Let me warn you up front, I'm not going to buy anything."
"That's ok, that's ok, just five minutes, let me show you," said the commision-hungry and also very friendly salesgirl, who it turned out - my mom always manages to learn the life histories of anyone she interacts with for more than thirty seconds - had just come from Israel last week, to live with and work for her aunt, who was some kind of manager or something in this skin-care-booths-in-malls franchise. Anyway, despite mom's protests, she grabbed our hands and rubbed them down with Dead Sea Salts and extolled their newfound softness, and she asked if I was fifteen and said we looked like sisters, and then grabbed this pumice thing and headed for my nails. "You see this?" she said, "Three sides, you see?" It did, indeed, have three sides. Well, four actually, of course, but only three functional ones."You start with this one, the black side, see, you rub the nail very hard, you see this dead nail all coming off..." Little nail-flakes were flying everywhere.
"Ow!" I said, because it hurt. "Yes, it hurt a little, that is ok." Well, it wasn't really ok...but ok. "Ok," she said, "Then the white side, you rub it all over the nail, it stimulates this blood under the nail." I must have looked puzzled, or my mom maybe looked skeptical, because the girl paused. Clearly we needed further explanation. "You know Michael Jackson?" she said.
"Yes..." I said, because I do know Michael Jackson; though I didn't know what he could possibly have to do with this situation. He probably has nice nails, I thought very vaguely. (Or did, at least; he probably can't afford manicures all that often these days.)
"Yes, ok, Michael Jackson, you know him. This is like him." She held up the pumice, and sort of twirled it, pointing and explicating: "First he is black, then he is white..." - a final twirl - "and then after, he will be grey."
"Ah...huh..." I said, and stared down at my thumbnails, which really were in fact extremely shiny now, "their own natural oils, just trapped under all this dead dirt" apparently having been released.
I didn't realize until we were walking to the car (no Ella Cosmetics products, alas, in hand; my mom means it when she says she won't be buying) what a very, very, inexplicably weird line that Michael Jackson thing was. Is it, I wonder, in their employee training manual?
Anyway, in true suburban fashion, I went to the mall with my mom yesterday afternoon. Coming out of Macy's, we got accosted by this plump blonde girl working one of those little cart things that they have lining the hallways of the mall, selling stuff like mongrammed teddy bears and cell phone covers and pseudo-ethnic woven bags and shit. This one was devoted to pushing the Ella Cosmetics skin care line, imported from Israel, endowed with the apparently miraculous powers of Dead Sea salts. "Ladies, let me ask you, do you like to have nice skin?" the plump blonde girl called out to us, and I stopped, because I do like to have nice skin, and my mom stopped too but, blunt as usual, said, "Oh, this stuff. I got trapped into this here the other day. Let me warn you up front, I'm not going to buy anything."
"That's ok, that's ok, just five minutes, let me show you," said the commision-hungry and also very friendly salesgirl, who it turned out - my mom always manages to learn the life histories of anyone she interacts with for more than thirty seconds - had just come from Israel last week, to live with and work for her aunt, who was some kind of manager or something in this skin-care-booths-in-malls franchise. Anyway, despite mom's protests, she grabbed our hands and rubbed them down with Dead Sea Salts and extolled their newfound softness, and she asked if I was fifteen and said we looked like sisters, and then grabbed this pumice thing and headed for my nails. "You see this?" she said, "Three sides, you see?" It did, indeed, have three sides. Well, four actually, of course, but only three functional ones."You start with this one, the black side, see, you rub the nail very hard, you see this dead nail all coming off..." Little nail-flakes were flying everywhere.
"Ow!" I said, because it hurt. "Yes, it hurt a little, that is ok." Well, it wasn't really ok...but ok. "Ok," she said, "Then the white side, you rub it all over the nail, it stimulates this blood under the nail." I must have looked puzzled, or my mom maybe looked skeptical, because the girl paused. Clearly we needed further explanation. "You know Michael Jackson?" she said.
"Yes..." I said, because I do know Michael Jackson; though I didn't know what he could possibly have to do with this situation. He probably has nice nails, I thought very vaguely. (Or did, at least; he probably can't afford manicures all that often these days.)
"Yes, ok, Michael Jackson, you know him. This is like him." She held up the pumice, and sort of twirled it, pointing and explicating: "First he is black, then he is white..." - a final twirl - "and then after, he will be grey."
"Ah...huh..." I said, and stared down at my thumbnails, which really were in fact extremely shiny now, "their own natural oils, just trapped under all this dead dirt" apparently having been released.
I didn't realize until we were walking to the car (no Ella Cosmetics products, alas, in hand; my mom means it when she says she won't be buying) what a very, very, inexplicably weird line that Michael Jackson thing was. Is it, I wonder, in their employee training manual?
posted by Abigail at 4:32 AM
4 Comments:
“… (The Dead Sea) resembles the sea, but is more nauseous in taste; it breeds pestilence among those who live near by its noisome odour… the (surrounding) soil, which is scorched in appearance, has lost its productive power. Everything that grows… becomes black and rotten, and crumbles into a kind of dust… the surrounding air is tainted… thus the growth decay(s) under the equally noxious influences of soil and climate.” -- Tacitus
sweet. put that stuff on my face.
I think you're being poorly impersonated on the Nerve blog comments board.
i work in one of these little carts in the mall
and the Michael Jackson thing was not in my employee training
its actually very funny when i think about the situation
I am really happy to see that someone else has run into these fine Ella Cosmetics saleswomen. Kepp in mind I am a male. I was asked and literally pulled from my position by what I am calling one of the more beautiful creatures of this earth. I was so overwhelmed by her flattery and flirtations that I bought some product. But it doesn't stop there.
After the sale, this little Israeli Siren asks me for my phone number. I gave it to her. Now I am a little paranoid that this whole thing is part of a larger scheme. Damn my love for sexy accents.
But most importantly I want to share with you the parallels with my experience and yours. She used the Michael Jackson reference with me and she also claimed to have just recently arrived in the U.S. just 10 days earlier. I think I am on to something.
And now for the cherry on top. Just two hours ago I used the face peel. I must say that my face has never felt so fresh and so soft.
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