I was in the neighborhood, so went into Neiman’s to pick up the magic-in-a-bottle that was the talk of last month’s pajama party.
Interesting what we serious gals talk about when we wear fuzzy slippers and eat popcorn.
There was plastic surgery talk. Who does it and why.
Man talk. Why is it seen as perfectly natural and acceptable for men to date women fifteen years younger, but not the other way round? I find this one especially puzzling, demographically it would be better the other way round since we live longer. And, “Women our age have ‘baggage’, but men have ‘freight trains’!” said one woman from Seattle. (She was engaged before she figured out the guy was addicted to Vicodin. “And I’d thought it was great he seemed relaxed!”)
Kid talk. “Will they EVER leave home?” I got the golden ticket in this department…two college graduate daughters, employed, independent, with their own HEALTH INSURANCE. But I suggested the book Walking on Eggshells, by Jane Isay. Sheila downloaded it on her Kindle right then and there.
And beauty talk. Alicia: “What is ‘threading?’” Various of us attempt to explain the hair removal method. “Do they pull hairs out? Or cut them off?” Mystery of the universe is the consensus. “We need to share all of our best beauty secrets!” Says Susan. Sheila actually takes notes and promises to email them around.
But here I am standing at the Sisely counter, overwhelmed, remembering why I never go in for this kind of thing.
“Can I help you?” asks the man in the lavender shirt and bun.
“My friend recommended some magic potion from here and I can’t remember the name.”
“Oh I’m sure it’s Supremya La Nuit.” He hands me a sleek gold can, dildo shaped. How would I know? Doesn’t sound exactly right, but I can’t find Sheila’s email on the iPhone. “How much does it cost?”
I stand there, dumbly, trying to place the decimal point. Seven dollars and fifty cents is clearly way too little. This is NeimanMarcus after all. Seventy-five dollars I could believe, but the guy clearly said, “seven fifty.” The next possibility I simply cannot imagine.
“Seven hundred and fifty dollars?”
“Yes. And it’s flying off the shelf.”
I burst out laughing.
“I know,” says the guy. “I can’t believe it either.”