A few years ago, my BF (let’s call her Rhonda) and I took our daughters to Chicago for a few days during spring break of their senior year. We had a great time with the girls and took in the city sights. While walking along Michigan Avenue, we wandered into Nordstroms and saw that they were having a Makeover Day. Every line they carried was doing free makeovers so we signed up and went back the following day.
The girls went to Laura Mercier, Rhonda and I to Bobbi Brown. We were at our most charming as we entertained the makeup artists with stories, jokes and general mischief. We spent some $$$, left feeling hip and gorgeous and walked back to the hotel.
Rhonda was in the bathroom doing a close inspection of her new look and let out a shriek. I went in to see what was wrong. On the wall was a magnifying makeup mirror with an accordian arm and she was staring intently at her face. “Oh my God, will you look at all these hairs on my chin? How could I have gone there with these?” I told her it wasn’t that noticeable (to the visually impaired) and then had a look see at my own situation and let out an equally horrified scream.
The gals at Nordstroms must have thought we were two freaks on leave from the circus because, at least in that bathroom mirror, we looked like a couple of bearded ladies with fine lines being the least of our problems. Humiliated, we hit the Hotel Happy Hour early, sloshed down a couple glasses of wine, stroked our stubbly chins, discussed where to go to dinner (dark please) and tried to put the whole hairy mess behind us.
We got busy tweezing the next day, stayed away from Nordstroms (where we’re certain they still talk about us to this very day) and enjoyed our last day in the city. We have many fond memories of that trip but rarely discuss The Makeover for obvious reasons. Now that our girls are a little older (and of legal drinking age) we’d love to do it again. But the next time, before we iron our overalls and hitch our wagon for the bright lights and big city, we’ll definitely remember to farm our face.