Since I'm a visual person I hardly ever remember the album title but I just remember what the album art looks like.
Lately I've had the pleasure of going on fun little dates with
Mari, possibly the
most adorable, wonderful, lovely person alive. We like a lot of the same things,
so when we get together for a quick dinner, our conversations seems to stretch
on endlessly, touching on everything from favourite local shops (we have
similar picks), how we shoot our photos (Mari is way more advanced than me and
actually has proper equipment), and pretty much everything else.
Of course, we
also talk about makeup a lot. Over dinner a few weeks back, I told Mari (whose name is pronounced like Marie, by the way) about
my love of Pmall cosmetic shopping. She agreed it's a wonderland of treasures,
but a bit too far if you don't drive.
"Have you been to Jealousy around
the corner?" she asked. When I answered with a confused look, she
immediately suggested we pop over after our dinner. Though I knew shopping with
Mari would likely lead to me maxing out my Visa, I eagerly accepted the
Jealousy is a tiny, cramped store right on the main drag of one
of Toronto's busiest shopping streets. I've walked by at least 100 times, but
for some reason, I had never seen it until Mari walked me to the door. Inside
was a treasure trove of cosmetics, candy, and the odd plushy toy. It was like a
mini version of Pmall, but way closer and slightly more expensive.
around for a while and settled on a Japanese liquid liner to replace my dried
out Stila one, but on my way to the cash I spotted a glass case, presumably
filled with fancy special things. I paused to gaze inside, and that's when I
It was the prettiest blush I'd ever seen. Well, I didn't know
it was even blush at first; all I knew was that it was something in a magical
container printed to look like a tiny pastel carousel featuring a horse with
pancakes on its back.
I called Mari over, and together we tried to guess what
was hidden inside based on the three English words on the package: "Heart ball
cheek." We concluded it was a container of shimmer pearls and that I
should buy it, but the price tag was daunting. $30 for one little tub?
feeling shy and frazzled and didn't want to make the sales people open the case
when I wasn't sure I wanted to spend that much (I'm a horrible window shopper),
so I bought the eyeliner, hugged Mari goodbye, and left for home.
But once home, I couldn't get my mind off of the joyful
carousel mystery pot. It was dancing around in my head, haunting me, even. I had
to know what it was, and I had to make it mine.
I tried looking it up on the
Internet, but I couldn't find a trace of it (though I did find these incredible
carousel horse print makeup bags). I messaged Mari on Facebook explaining
my plight, and begged her to meet me at the shop again the next day to help me
make a final decision (and to help me get the special discount that her mom gets
at the store). Of course she agreed, because as I have already mentioned, she
is the best.
Turns out it was blush
all along, magical pearls of shimmery hot-pink blush with baby pink hearts on
them created by a Japanese brand called Econeco.
I reasoned I only owned a basic pink NARS blush and a lavender shade by Tony
Moly, so a hot pink was probably something I needed.
Still unsure, I opened the
lid and found a tiny powder puff with a light pink bow, which obviously pushed
me over the edge. With the approval of Mari (though she preferred the more
orange shade because she is brave), I handed over my credit card and tucked my
coveted prize into my backpack.
But when I got home, I put the blush away in my
cupboard without even trying it on. It's not that I was worried I wouldn't like
the shade (pink looks good on me most of the time), but more that I was worried
I'd somehow ruin the product, damaging the delicate, papery container, or
worse, smashing a pink blush pearl.
Eventually, I snapped out of my pastel trance and resolved to
try actually using the pink carousel blush. I couldn't stand to see it go
unused like my Paul & Joe cat head
lipstick--I'm convinced that unused makeup must feel like the residents of the island
of misfit toys or something awful like that.
I had never used a pearl blush before, so I just gently plunked
the puffer into the pot, swirled it around lightly, and hoped for the best.
worked beautifully, giving my cheeks a lovely rosy pink glow and just a hint of
shimmer. Though this blush will definitely live on my vanity with all my other
prettiest makeup (where I can admire it daily), I'm going to start actually
using it too.
Have you ever bought a product so pretty you're scared to use
it? Did anyone out there ever get brave enough to use one of those Paul & Joe
cat head lipsticks?