Sooo, it’s been one of those weeks. One minute it’s Monday 9AM and the next is Friday…something thirty. I’m totally spent and ready to go off on a road trip with my two favorite guys. But first, I must prepare for my awesome weekend. Glass of wine, kick of the awesome heels that killed my feet all day and off to fill the tub with the latest issue of Cosmo in hand (Carrie looks great doesn’t she?). To ensure success of my ever so coveted bath time, I spend several moments looking over the inventory of bath beads, bubbles, soaps and salts. It’s about 80 degrees outside and we’re grilling salmon later, so the last thing I want is oily or sticky. I decide on the salts. Now the question is what scent? So many decisions…should I go for warm vanilla sugar, lilac or get really crazy and go for the mango fizzie ones? I decide that I needed a little lilac in my life…so as I tear off the corner and start pouring them first into my hand (so I can clinch it under the running hot water and watch it disappear…love that!), it occurs to me that these little crystals look strangely similar to the stuff I just bought last week for my favorite salt bowl whom resides in the room on the other side of the house called my kitchen. Hmmm? Is it possible that this is nothing but course salt with lilac stuff all over it?
So, in effort to not add a “ding ding” complex to my collection, I decide I’m going to travel down the road that lead me to my purchasing decision. Somehow, I must have had a good reason to buy these little overpriced salt lick chips. I remembered being in a great little French boutique somewhere east of here. There were bath robes, soap flakes, fuzzy slippers, every oil scent you could ever imagine. As I walked around I started feeling more and more like a little girl in a candy store. Every table had some kind of product affirming my theory that ‘girls buy this kind of stuff no matter what it costs cause we’re special.’ That’s where the unraveling of reason begins.
After about a good hour of figuring out just how indeed I was going to stock my bathroom with all this cool stuff and not spend my son’s college fund, I figured out that if I purchased everything in my basket and skipped eating lunch that afternoon at some over priced restaurant my husband was meeting me at(only a water for me please), I could justify my purchase. And ALL is what I bought. The problem was that the ‘no lunch’ formula didn’t work once I found out they had seared tuna and seaweed salad (my favorite). Oh well, that’s why they made credit cards, right?
So coming back to my not so unwinding bath moment, I processed the fact that I indeed was duped. How’s that possible? I’m a marketing chic and I should know better! As I sat there listening to the awful sound of the jets (can’t they make those things any quieter?), I looked around my bathroom. Like shocking photos, each one of my hair products flashed me their logo and sexy shaped plastic bottle. My razor peered at me from its cute little shower caddy with a look of satisfaction as if it were saying “Venus probably did not shave her legs dear…hello?” Yes, every corner of my sacred room where I retire in seek of peace and solstice, was screaming “brand slut!!!”.
As I get out to find comfort inside my fluffy white bath robe (with the Grand Floridian crest on it…yikes!) I take one last look around this new room of smoke and mirrors. One by one I acknowledge each of these products who spoiled today’s bath time splendor and I say “If it wasn’t for girls like me, no one would even know you exist.”
So in the spirit of supporting my fellow marketing peeps, here’s to you for making your bottles of fizzies and bubbly stuff look so great on the shelf. I’m honored to continue to help keep us all employed. Now that’s a cause I can pour more wine to….cheers!