Dreaming about a Kiss

If there’s one thing I’ve always loathed, oh, ok, you got me, or anyone who knows me has got me, there are MANY things I loathe, but for our purposes here, it’s people who say, “Oh, you can get anything in India”. Uh, no. It wasn’t true 10 years ago when I first heard it, and it ain’t true now. Leastways, not down south of the Vindhyas.

Lancome’s Poeme? Urban Decay foundation 8.0? Tod’s D Bag? Every single one of the 250 books I’ve downloaded on Kindle because it’s not in the bookstore? Peace of mind? Pavements? I digress. But when it comes to the Beauty Biz, it’s a Hell to the No. What’s particularly galling is when you run to the nearest Nykaa (Sephora’s little sister, I presume?) looking for Marc Jacobs’s Daisy Dream Kiss and they say they don’t stock Marc Jacobs. Say what. Look it up on their online store, you say? When you manage to get the site to open, it will tell you they’re plum out of stock.

Speaking of Nykaa. They’ve opened

Paradise found & the price is just about right

in Bangalore’s Lavelle Road, and made the mistake so many companies make: Starting small, dipping their toe in the waters and seeing how warm it is. It’s Alaska warm, honey, because the people who walk into Nykaa know the exact shade, formula and background of the products they expect to see and are willing to buy big for pigments that go on their skin – only you don’t have what they want. Even the hugely popular Huda Beauty has just a handful of wares on display. So what happens? You don’t sell much and we all go back to duty free shopping at the nearest airport. Lose-lose.

Having said that, the Sabyasachi line of lipsticks for L’Oreal (who know a thing or two about marketing in India, I might add), is sublime. Also noteworthy in the lip line: Bobbi Brown, Crushed Liquid Lip Bitter Sweet and the always-trustworthy Stila, see Sheer Splendore, both available at the actual Sephora which, alas, also suffers from a lack of variety. No, I don't see why the Champs Elysees store should be different from the Lavelle Rd one, sorry.

Point to Note: Down South is admittedly very different from Up North; people here are price-conscious in a way no Delhi socialite would stoop to consider. But things are changing, a bit. Women are willing to pay at MAC but the large Bobbi Brown at Garuda mall stays largely empty. Why? Their products are great but their prices are sometimes just silly. Think about it this way: there's a reason why retailers say things like it's $9.99 rather than saying it's $10. It's psychology; they should be saying it's $9.99 Psychologically. While I might throw an internal tantrum but cough up Rs 2,500 for a Studio Fix powder at MAC, I will willingly lose the battle when faced with a Bobbi Brown concealer for Rs 3,650. Psychology. And that's just when seeing the 2 and the 3, not even the 1000 rupee difference. Once I see that, it's game over.

But I still believe in the adage which I will twist because I can: Build your stock, and the buyers will come. (Just don’t be silly about it.) 

Conversations, Bangalore

Me: Hi, Do you have nail polish remover?
Store salesperson: Yes, madam, what colour?
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Me in auto, relaxed, listening to music, halfway to my destination.
Driver: Madam, where did you say you wanted to go again?
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At vague eye clinic, explaining to well-known doctor that the new lens he prescribed is uncomfortable and that my vision was better with my old pair.  He rambled on about how light is transmitted, about colours and perception and so on, until he was satisfied my eyes were glazed from more than just the wrong lens. When people ramble in response to a question, asking the question again seems futile, something evasive individuals understand and use to the fullest extent possible.
His final word: There's no need to wear a higher power. The distance in this room meets international standards.
(Did I mention the new lens cost me thousands? And that this is why I wish I could pray to a God that when I am struck down by one of His whims, I will succumb quickly, with no need to meet my end at the hands of an utterly indifferent physician. The only Hippocratic oath this lot takes is what that word sounds like.)
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Receptionist at same eye clinic, taking down my particulars, name, age, do I have hypertension or diabetes.
Her: How do you spell your last name? T..H..A....ok.
Pause.
Her: How long have you had it?
Pregnant pause.
Me: How long have I had what?
Her: Hypertension.
Me: Oh. Years. (In my head: From the beginning of this conversation.)