Sorry I haven’t had more time to write, but I’ve spent most of the past week languishing in the bathtub. Like Johnny Depp, I’m kind of a delicate flower. You know the type: soulful, but basically useless. Anyway, earlier this week I found myself faced with the task of completing one of those tedious chores that we all must face sometimes in life: dragging my fragile, wilting butt (on a cold day, no less!) to the LUSH store all the way down the street. It had, until this day, been a major source of irritation to me that I, of all people, had heretofore failed so miserably to understand what was so great about LUSH. All I could think, upon flipping limply through the catalog, was “bad fonts.” On another occasion, I entered the store with a friend only to have some irridescent glitter speck or chunk of organic free-range seaweed fly up my nose and send me out onto the street in a violence of coughing, sneezing, wheezing, and wailing. Even after I figured out that bath bombs are meant to be sniffed gently, I was still overwhelmed by the unweildy array of colors and cutesy names and weird products like glittering jelly meant to be used for the purposes of bathing. LUSH bewildered me, and furthermore, I suspected a major scam. I just don’t trust beauty products that come with a little cartoon sticker of the person who made them pasted to the side of the container, and I am even more suspicious when these very same products come with an expiration date. I mean, it’s shower gel. It’s not supposed to go bad, even if it’s been harvested by Tibetan monks on the third Tuesday in January under the northern lights during a waxing moon.
It’s not so much that I experienced a change of heart during this most recent visit to LUSH. I just was in that “buying” mood. So I got some stuff, and I have been home playing with it ever since. I’m not even entirely sure that LUSH doesn’t suck, only that I have now experienced enough of it to form a somewhat educated opinion. My problem is that I just don’t want to. It wears me out.
These are the products from LUSH that I’ve tried so far:
Flying Fox Shower Gel: Oooh, this a screechy, peachy cantatrice of a jasmine from hell if ever I have smelled one. Or not really peachy… more…. poopy and mothbally. But definitely screechy. I like it because it purportedly contains three different kinds of jasmine, including the most expensive. And also because it is meant to be sexy, and also to cure PMS. There’s a big clump of what is supposed to be honey at the bottom of the bottle, so it requires a shaking more vigorous than I ordinarily have the strength for. But chances are that if I am already standing up for a shower, I can pull it off. I would like to carry this around on a handkerchief to replace my usual smelling salts because it is pungent and soothing at the same time.
Dream Cream: Meant for “troubled” skin, well, I liked the sound of that. My skin has troubles. Dry patches and rough patches and scaly patches and well, just… patches… of no good. This rich lavender-scented lotion sinks right in and goes to work on the baddies, leaving me with skin as soft as Johnny Depp’s bottom. Oh, I’m still troubled. Sometimes I think I’ll always be troubled. But meanwhile, it’s nice to have a support system as luscious and easy-going as Dream Cream.
Buffy: This strange and exotic product is a bar of grease that suspends large particles of ground rice, almonds, and aduki beans. You rub it all over wet skin and then shower off the remaining scrubby thangs. While I do like the sound of “aduki beans,” I do not like an exfoliator that leaves me with scratch marks and a thick coating of grease that takes hours to soak in. On the upside, Buffy smells lavendery and lemony and like that indefinable powdery-good-for-you thing that I am coming to think of as LUSH-y. It was a free gift with purchase. I am still hoping my shower melts it before I think it is a good idea to try using it again.
Green Green Bath of Foam Bubble Bar: Millions of bubbles atop a turquoise bathtub-lagoon! And it smells kinda like the dearly departed GAP Grass! Did not irritate my sensitive skin, nor did the bubbles dissipate for the entire duration of my endless bath. Shaped like a little Christmas tree with pink peppercorn ornaments. I think I like it because I know it’s a limited edition and I will almost certainly be too lazy to go to the store again before they run out.
Titsy Totsy Bath Bomb: Another freebie, gifted to me by a former co-worker. This didn’t really do anything for me. It has a sweet, light, lovely rosy fragrance and six or seven tiny closed rosebuds that float around in the tub and look very pretty. It didn’t make me fall in love like it was supposed to, though, or turn the water any interesting colors. I think my attention span is too short for this one.
Blue Skies and Fluffy White Clouds Bubble Bar: Cinnamon and patchouli-scented bright blue water with bubbles. What more could anyone possibly need out of a bath? Except maybe a little bit of In the Nude thrown in there with it.
In The Nude Bath Melt: Has that sandalwoody, herbal LUSH kind of smell to it. Melts in the bath and makes it all slippery and good. I like to make the water really hot, so this bath melt helps me convince myself that I’m not really drying my skin out. Emollients, don’t you know.
Floating Islands Bath Melt: White cupcake-looking thing with big hunks of melty cocoa butter inside. This one is even more emollient than Naked. Again, it has that generic LUSH-y smell, but maybe more sandalwood than herbs this time. That’s a good thing, I think. Turned the water all silky and sexy feeling, which almost made me want to get out of the bathtub and go to the bar. Almost. It’s good, but it’s not that good, and I need to stay focused on my lounging this week.
So, in summary, I’m not sure if LUSH products are whatsoever worth the money spent on them, but I am also so relaxed after a week of indulgence that I also don’t care. And that’s pretty much all I have to say about them. Will I be participating in any further LUSH orgies down the line? Maybe. I feel as though these products call for a specific kind of cold, miserable week with nothing better to do, a pile of good books to read, and the nagging beginnings of a cold that refuses to either turn into a proper illness or go away.
Oh, except for Dream Cream. That one goes straight into the permanent arsenal.
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