Earlier this week, on my way to meet Johann for lunch, he sent me a text:
Can you bring my sunscreen?
I let out a huge guffaw in our living room.
Ask Martina, I snapped back.
Martina isn’t the name of a classmate I caught Johann flirting with or the ex-girlfriend who’s constantly commenting on his Instagram posts. It’s the lady who works at the Kiehl’s counter here in Venice. We met her the week we arrived and she’s been a thorn in my side ever since, plying Johann with free samples and complimenting him on his non-existent pores. Within a matter of weeks, Johann went from being the guy who uses body wash on both his face and his hair to owning two different sunscreens, several moisturizers, a specially formulated eye cream, an after-sun masque and an entire drawer full of sample sized products.
Can you bring my sunscreen, indeed.
Bitch, which one?
Oddly enough, Martina isn’t much of a salesperson. And I don’t just say that because she’s always loading Johann down with free samples when he’d probably buy something off the shelf. I say that because every time we walk into the store, she greets him like a golden retriever while she outright ignores me. This despite the fact that I’m the one who’s standing in the “Dermatologist Solutions” section, reading the label on a dark spot corrector that costs $60 per fluid ounce.
“Look at this skin!” she announces to no one in particular. “Wrinkles are not a problem for you!”
This is what Martina has been saying about Johann since the very first week he met her, and I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. Last time I checked, one can’t claim credit for another person’s genes.
“No blemishes!” I hear Martina gush as she flaps her lab coat. “Perfect skin!”
I narrow my eyes from across the room. “Well if he’s so perfect, I guess we can just leave,” I mutter under my breath.
“We have the same skin, you know,” I hear Martina continue as she drapes herself across a counter. “Very fair. You need to wear a sunscreen during the daytime and moisturiser at night.”
I sigh loudly from behind a rack of lip balm. A sunscreen and moisturizer? Who could have seen that one-two punch coming? Tell me something else: Should he be using water to wash his face? Still or sparkling? A towel afterwards? Warm?
I shoot Johann a look of death as I pretend to sample Kiehl’s new line of lip butter. If there is one thing I don’t have patience for it’s a saleswoman fawning all over a young, attractive man while another customer is a heartbeat away from a total meltdown.
For once, I’m not being hyperbolic. Every time I step in a cosmetics store, my brain short-circuits. All I can think of, all I can see are my flaws. I’m 36 and still have acne and I just started getting wrinkles. I have a dime-sized sun spot on one cheek and huge bags under both eyes. In recent months, my T-Zone has quadrupled its oil production, which was already at least twice as high as it should be. I switched to a powder foundation but I still can’t keep my glasses from sliding off my face. I need assistance! Why can’t Martina see that?
I glare at this woman, who is now digging through her drawers for a sample-sized chamomile after-sun masque for her precious fair-skinned counterpart.
“How many more days are you in Venice?” she says. Martina asks Johann this question every time we visit. She knows the answer, but still pretends to act surprised when Johann answers.
“I’ll be here a few more months,” he says.
So excited is Martina by the news that she loses her grip on a rubber-banded packet of sample sachets and sends miniature moisturizers of every variety flying into the air like high-priced confetti.
“A few months?” she yells. “What are you doing here? Are you working?”
I smirk. Oh, Martina, I think to myself. You are drilling for Nordic oil in a Finnish student’s stipend.
“I’m studying at the university for a semester,” Johann replies. “Art history.”
Martina is oddly undeterred by this news, delighted still, that Johann will be in town through June. That leaves several months for the two of them to get together with their fair skin and stay out of the Italian sun. I guess I could see her point. They have so much in common: being blonde in a brunette world; English as a third language; the need to put chamomile on their faces every time they go outdoors. What more do they need, really?
I roll my eyes and shake a bottle of Midnight Recovery Concentrate with great vigour. My skin might not be much to look at, but it gets the job done. It can withstand cold and heat, snow and wind. Drop me just about anywhere in the world for a few months and I’ll adapt. That’s helpful. You can’t buy an attribute like that no matter where you shop.
I take pride in my skin, flawed as it is. I may not have the complexion of a porcelain doll, but at least I don’t have to do anything special after exposing my face to fresh air. Sop it up like an oil spill every afternoon? Yes. Smooth it out twice a day? Sure. Burn off a mole or two over lunch every now and then? That’s what good doctors are for. But treat myself for 30 minutes of regular sun exposure? No. Don’t need to do that. I might not be beautiful, but I am the superior being and Martina had better take note.
Eventually, Martina does pay attention to me. Generally speaking, this happens when I do something perfectly reasonable and age-appropriate, like ask her a question directly or take a full-sized bottle of face wash off the shelf and drop it on the floor. That’s usually all it takes to get Martina to change gears. She excuses herself from her conversation with Johann and escorts me to a section of the store that’s know as the Intervention Corner. It’s the beauty industry’s equivalent of both an intensive care unit and a penalty box. Every product name contains the word “Miracle,” “Corrective”, “Concentrate” or “Advanced.” These are not ordinary creams or lotions. They are serums; formulas; elixirs. They are made to look like magic potions and women like me want more than anything to believe. Truth be told, this is where I belong. I know this and so does Martina.
Martina isn’t the first sales clerk to put me in a time out because of my oversized pores and she probably won’t be the last. Although, if she was better at her job, she just might be. Regardless, I don’t hold it against her. In fact, if I’m being honest, I prefer her reaction – the flapping of her faux medical coat and the dispensing of something called Super Multi-Corrective Cream – to the alternative, which is when good-natured, naturally beautiful women try to tell me what works for them. This is what happens all the time in Finland. I go into a store looking for something very specific, like an oil-eliminating face wash or a battery-operated facial vacuum cleaner, and the woman behind the counter suggests I try honey instead.
“Honey?” I ask. “Hunaja?” I figure there is no translation issue since even I know that word in five languages, but still I have to check.
“Honey,” she repeats. “That tightens up the pores. Put it on after sauna.”
It is around this point that I usually have to fight the urge to tip over a nail polish display. Because this is every Finnish woman’s beauty routine: something insanely simple, followed by an hour-long birch sauna. It is maddening the way they trot it out to as an answer to every possible problem. Enlarged pores? Honey and sauna. Acne? Peat and sauna. Depression? Beer and sauna.
I hate to be a downer, but this is just not going to work for me. First of all, my home in Helsinki consists of a one-room attic apartment. There isn’t enough room for a washing machine, let alone an entire sauna. Second, even if there were, I don’t have the time to haul wood around and then wait while the room is heated to a piping 120 degrees. (I do, however, have $89, which is about what I think the face vacuum costs.)
Most importantly, I don’t believe that the sauna is going to deliver the results I need. I mean, yes, I’ll admit that I can see an improvement in my skin after I sit in one. And fine, I’ll allow that maybe honey or peat or avocados or whatever else Finnish women slather all over themselves while they’re in there works for them. But I am not them! I was not blessed with the near-perfect skin. I am not starting from level 8 and trying to hit 10. For me, honey just isn’t going to cut it. I require something much stronger to patch up these potholes. I need a product that’s steeped in science and researched in a lab. Something that combines good old-fashioned chemicals with slick new packaging. In an ideal world, there would be a product made just for me, one that is activated by rage and caffeine, artificial lighting and political tweets.
Martina may have her faults, but at least she knows better than to offer me honey. I need real help and she gets that. This is why I allow her to flirt with Johann while I’m raiding her sample drawer. It’s a little game we play, she and I, every couple of weeks when I run out of a full-size something or other that I actually paid for or find a sample product that works well enough. She chats, I dig. She laughs, I pillage. It’s a win/win.
In the end, it’s Johann who pays the price, quite literally. All these samples get him hooked on a high-end skincare routine. Once you try Kiehl’s, it’s hard to go back to body wash. It’s an expensive trip to make on a student stipend, but the products work and therefore they are worth it.
“Just get it,” I always tell Johann when he’s on the fence about the sunscreen or the eye concentrate or whatever else he liked from the latest round of samples. “You only have one face. Ruin this one and that’s it. Trust me, I know.”
I try not to let Martina hear me when I say that. She’s already seen all the chinks in my armor and I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of having that bit of information too. I’m sure she knows that I am embarrassed by my acne and disappointed by my wrinkles and furious about the sunspot, but I don’t need to tell her directly. I’d rather her think that I’m happy with this one face, that I’d keep it no matter what. That if I happened to find a different one in the back of her drawer, I wouldn’t even sample it.
i love this! you are brilliant (and have gorgeous skin)
Thank you! Back at you. xx
That was very funny! We’re in the lucky position of owning a sauna and I must admit it’s been good for my skin. But not that good. Do those blackhead vacuums actually work? I might try one if they do.
I agree. The sauna is great, but it is not a game changer. I still haven’t acquired a face vacuum. I will report back when and if I do. As always, thanks for reading. xx
I tried one of those black head vacuums, and it left hickies on my nose. Not sure that it was anymore effective than steaming and using a blackhead implement. But I love your telling of your search for the perfect magical skin care. Let me know when you find it. I’m 56 and I still get the occasional series of breakouts. You’re so pretty it doesn’t matter.
GOOD TO KNOW. This is the kind of review I need… lukewarm & with a low-cost alternative. BONUS: Nose hicks. Someday, when I have run out of topics to write about, I’ll get one just for entertainment’s sake. I appreciate you reading.. and thank you for the compliment. if I find magic one of these days, Ill let you in on the secret for sure! xx
I love a good Finnish sauna! We’ve been trying to figure out a way to convert our back bathroom. I’m sure it cures all ills, or at least makes me not care about them.The next problem will be to figure out how to get an ice-cold Finnish lake installed in the back yard.
I’m a sucker for skin care samples, although I have to admit to being a soap and water girl when it gets down to it. And sunscreen! SPF 30 or die.
RIGHT?!?! If you have the sauna to detox, you need the water to rinse it off. I have to admit, the sauna+swim is pretty glorious, even if it does not grant me the complexion of a Finnish woman. As for soap and water, I’ve realised, quite by accident, that soap is one of the best ways to combat oily skin… though I still won’t use it regularly. At the end of the day, I believe all the beauty ads telling me that I can’t use soap on my face. The horror! SPF forever.. ride or die. Not sure why I’m spotty, but such is life. thanks for reading xx
Excellent writing. You made me laugh this morning.
Well thank you! So glad to hear! xx
My acne cleared up at the age of 36, so yours should be disappearing any minute now!
I’m definitely a minimalist when it comes to skin care (water and a good moisturizer with SPF 30 are pretty much all I use on a regular basis), but I recently developed some skin discolorations (sun spots?) on my forehead that may require stronger forces – or I’ll simply keep my bangs for the rest of my life.
Great, very funny post!
Well here’s to hoping that in the next 60 days my skin follows suit and clears up. Otherwise, maybe 37 will be my year. LOL. For what it’s worth, your skin always looks great in photos. Whatever you’re doing – keep doing it! As always, thanks for stopping by.
First of all, I laughed out loud and scared The Mr several times while reading this.
Second of all, you’re gorgeous. Embrace it.
Third of all, and not to be *that* girl, but… did you ever try the honey and sauna thing? Because it would be kind of hilarious if it solved all of your issues. Just saying.
OK, so I have never tried the honey, but I would be willing. I would try anything at this point, especially things that are more or less free. Problem is, if it works, then I’ve really boxed myself into a corner, because I don’t have a sauna in my house. I do, occasionally, go to public saunas with Johann or as a guest to his private sauna club, but those are not the kind of places that I want to be walking around covered in honey. Imagine what people would say! Then again, I can’t understand them and Johann would never tell me… so MAYBE PROBLEM SOLVED????? I’ll be right back…. with the honey.
Time, Im sorry to say, solves the oily skin issues, and with your darker complection you will look younger longer. Notice how dried out most of your natural blonde and red-headed friends look by the time they hit forty…
Sometimes I think we get too close to the mirror (which will enlarge any pore you own) both mentally and physically.
Pink lightbulbs in the bathroom can improve any complection. I also think that the more we fuss over our skin the more damage we do to it. Get a nice goatmilk soap and warm water, that’s really all you need.
You’re a pretty woman. It goes with the territory, and please give that dame a slap for me…
Well you’re right about a couple things, the most important being that I should back away from the mirror. I get all up in there. It’s not good for anyone. I also hear you on the soap, although, I must say this combination I have going with Kiehls really has improved my skin… could also be that there is limited pollution here given the lack of cars or the sun or any number of other things… time will tell. In the meantime, I thank you for the compliments and for reading. Next time I see Martina I will picture myself slapping her just for you… after I get the samples, of course.