The Mall | 30 April 2024
“The wall of aroma was rivaled only by sheer visual enticement. Bubblegum pink. Canary Yellow. Lavender. Mint Green Baby Blue. Hot-rod Red. Fuck-me Red. No-tomorrow Red.”
BNR Response
Sheree wondered to herself why the nail varnish colors weren’t given names that actually described the colors, the way we all name them when we see their vibrant hues ourselves. It’s as if the branding team behind Dior, Chanel, NARS, and the like suddenly become pearl-clutching prudes when it comes to naming the colors; eschewing the fact that their latest spreads in Vogue are just that – spreads. Instead they were called oblique non-descriptive names like, “Hidden Oasis”, “Lunch Date”, and, “Sandpiper.” All these names could just as easily be used for wallpaper samples from the 1980’s Laura Ashley collection.
Her eyes subtly scanned the department store as it was winding down from a busy Saturday: weary saleswomen and fragrance sprayers wiped down their display cases, put caps on samples; mothers walked weary toddlers out towards the waning daylight of the parking lot, drooping balloons tied to wrists; and teenagers gossiped over braces-laden teeth about a girl sadly trailing at the back of the pack.
This was her favorite time, when the store got quiet again and it was all restored back to its untouched glory. Gone were the smudged fingerprints and blouses teetering on one end of the hanger. The overwhelming affront of several perfumes being sprayed at once calmed to a subdued floral scent with an undertone of coffee from the beans interspersed on the countertops. Every lipstick, eyeliner, mascara found its way back in its rightful place, and they lined up like soldiers dressed as escorts to a ball.
Sheree waited for the music to soften and stepped down from her vantage point, shaking off the stilettos of the week and rolling her head on her tight shoulders. She placed her taupe handbag in a cosmetic consultation chair and felt her body relax as she strolled by the La Mer counter to see the latest face creams and tonics. She glided through the nearby lingerie and swim sections, and her favorite song came on. “Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream / Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream / Make a bad one good, make a wrong one right / Power of love will keep you home at night…” She laughed, trying on sun hats and spinning herself up in scarves, playing dress-up while lip syncing to Huey Lewis.
This is what it should be like every day, she thought. She had a lot of private musings. She was having a blast entertaining herself - peering over Jackie-O Gucci sunglasses at the costume tennis necklaces. She made it to the handbags and was pivoting left to right in the full-length mirror, Versace on her left arm and Prada on her right. Definitely Prada. Sheree ducked behind a counter as she saw Joaquin, the floor manager, leaving his office in the back, his keys jangling as they met the change in his suit pocket. Close call.
Her escapade continued through Tom Petty, Wilson Phillips, and Heart. She wished they hadn’t put her in this double-breasted suit, they definitely weren’t back in style and were so retro compared to the new looks on the runway. Sheree had successfully dodged the housekeeping team and security sweep, and now her night was winding down. It wasn’t often she got the run of the place to herself, but it was always a treat. She didn’t have gourmet meals or romantic dates to fill her time and imagination. After all, mannequins have to take little pleasures where they can find them.