A little pot of wonder


Last week I found myself shopping again.

Birthdays, Christmas, toiletries. Any excuse.

While in a local department store I spotted a special offer I had been looking for, for sometime. Following a gift of a little pot of face cream.

A tiny pot of magic dreaminess to smear into my face and make me feel good.

The pot is made by a well-known and very expensive brand.

An unwanted gift, given to me by the initial receiver when she saw my excited face on being allowed to use some of her cream, having forgotten mine at home. She, herself, never being the user of such creams or indeed any make-up for that matter. She had been presented with it a few months before, for one of those big 0 birthdays. Along with some make-up packaged together in a smart make-up bag.

I have looked for a replacement of my miniature pot of loveliness for some time. My beady eye has scanned shelves for special offers on this brand for what can truly be described as some months now.

And last week, like a flash of light, there it was.

Almost half price.

Only one problem. My brand had several face creams all shouting at me in German and I had no idea which one actually happened to be the grown up version of my pot.

So I decided to go by colour. Except, despite the many available glass jars I couldn’t spot any in dark blue.

An assistant appeared, happy to sell me more of the expensive product (I, meanwhile, found myself holding my breath at the half price option).

I told her the story of the miniature face cream. The unwanted gift. And as we looked at the much larger jars it occurred to me, that perhaps the make-up and the little pot  were part of a gift set. Specially made.

My story unravelled as we looked and we searched. Same make another land. Yes, the gift given to me in the UK not here in Germany. No. I don’t know what it’s called. But yes, I’m clear it’s a blue glass jar and it’s face cream and it’s made by Estee Lauder.

Yes. I am quite sure.

Keen to sell the assistant pulls in another colleague who also searches and wonders and listens to my story of exotic presents in far off lands.

Slowly, she informs me that in all her years of experience she has never seen a blue glass Estee Lauder face cream. And asks if it could be another brand. She points out a pale blue glass pot from another firm.

I am insistent. This is my brand. The colour is dark blue and it’s in a glass jar.

We discuss further the miniature-ness of my little pot and how it may have been a part of a set and has come from abroad and we deliberate the possibility that a different colour must be used there.

Her solution: I should return with my said jar and show them. Then they could find the matching German equivalent.

It is a good solution bar one point.

By the time I return my brand will no longer be half price. And if half price already made me feel dizzy then I’m sure as hell not going to pay full price.

I feel sad.

Later on at home I picked up my little pot and looked at it and this is what I saw:

 

 

Oh!

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