If anyone knows me, they know something I really desire is perfect skin. You know, skin that just glows and is splotch free. Skin that when you wake up the following morning, you are making a mad dash to the bathroom to cover up spots.
I was cursed with acne starting in middle school and endured it all through university. Things started seeming better until right before my last jet set to Paris…after I landed, my face EXPLODED (well, not as drastically as I make it seem…but still). And being a Southern belle brought up with the notion that no one should see you when not put together, I was always on top of making sure I appeared to have blemish free skin (even when hanging about the house).
When I returned home for a few months, a prescribed regimen started getting my face back in order. However, this didn’t stop me from rolling up to a Marionnaud in Paris to look for something that could help my face.
Once inside, I noticed this older French lady glare at me. So I made a mad dash to the only makeup I was familiar with, Clinique. The lady followed close behind and made sure to keep an eye on me. I turned bright red as I noticed her stare. I tried smiling to break the ice. Nada….This Parisian woman was judging me, and there was nothing I could do.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Uhhhh, toner? Uhhhhh?” I replied nervously.
“Parlez-vous français?” she demanded.
“No, of course you don’t. Hmmphhh…well, what are you doing here? Visiting???”
“No, I’m an au pair…trying to learn…uh…French…I speak a little!”
“Hmmphhh, well, you are in Paris, and it is VERY important you speak French…hmphhh…”
I nodded in agreement and prayed she’d go away and leave me alone, but it appeared she wouldn’t budge. Finally, I decided to ask her advice on a toner. She tilted her head down and looked at me.
“Are you a Clinique girl?” she asked.
“No. It’s just what I’m familiar with…” I replied.
She nodded her head, and the next thing I knew she was whisking me about the store handing me a product that all the young French girls use. She explained how to use it and informed me it’s the cheapest and best product in the store for what my face needs. Then she showed me this BB cream foundation to use and dragged me to the checkout.
“Come back in three months and see me. I promise you will have better skin by then,” she told me.
“Okkkk,” I stuttered.
“Ohh, and here are some extra samples for you.”
It was then I noticed her throwing in samples of Chanel mascara and Coco Mademoiselle parfum. My heart jumped.
She smiled at me for the first time and told me to visit her. She’d teach me French, and I would teach her English. I nodded.
And, then, as I was walking out the door, she said:
“I know you are going to be just fine in Paris.”