Got 99 Problems, But A Product Ain’t One

CaptureI love products. I love samples. I love samples of products, I mean who doesn’t?! They are just so adorable I want to pick them up and exclaim, “HI MEEM!” (which if any of you know me is my exclamation when I see something cute … dogs, cats, boys, anything). And, you know, it’s great to try out a product before pulling the trigger and buying a full bottle, am I right?

That is why I originally adored the concept of Birch Box. The opportunity to get a bunch of sample products delivered to you in a box based off of a profile you made of yourself? I was head over heels from the packaging and the cute way they announce your name on the box, “the dazzling Kate Concannon,” to the little extras they would throw in. Swoon.

Until one day I looked at my makeup table and realized, “holy shit, I’m about to get straight up swallowed by products.” They were ev-er-y-where. Overflowing out of my makeup drawer, falling off the side of my table, balancing on top of one another. I mean everywhere I looked, there they were (the pictures in this post are an actual representation). And the worst part? I probably had only tried 5% of them. So they just sat there like little multiplying minions all, “Try me! Try me! Me next! Me next!”

Never once really have I tried a product from my Birch Box and had to have it. Actually, I lied, I gave an anti-aging serum to my mom, SHE loved it, went to buy it for her for Christmas and realized it was like $100 for a thimble of the stuff. Yeah. No. But besides that, the sample size is good enough for me. When I get the urge to do a face mask, it is awesome that I can go to my makeup table and choose from 15 different samples. I just wish I didn’t have 15 of them, and then an extra 5 exfoliators to follow suit.

And it doesn’t help that I’m cheap. So when I’m at a makeup counter, or like that time I went to Ulta and they hooked me up with literally a bag full of a samples, I just cannot say no. I’m too busy doing a happy dance and Instagramming my goodies. But instead of finding the ones I like, or gifting away the ones I don’t want or know I won’t use, I just end up hoarding them until my makeup table is more like a sanctuary to tiny bottles of shit that were never opened.

I need to go to samples anonymous, and as much as I love getting that awesome box each month (which happens to come at the most opportune times … during a mental break down, happen to be in an extra stabby mood), I think Birch Box and I have to part ways for a bit. I’m not hating on you, Birch Box, because you have brought me so much joy. But alas, I think I need to become one with the samples I already have, and hell, who knows, maybe pick up a new product I like. I mean isn’t that what it is all about?

For the person who needs a new beauty regime or just needs a little spice to their look, definitely dive into Birch Box. But if you are a closet makeup/sample hoarder, stay away. Far away. And in fact join me at Samples Anonymous. I’ll be serving tiny bottles of Diet Coke and gummy bears and we can talk about feelings.

This isn’t even half of it …

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Wear Protection At Sample Sales

09981f45a262.previewI’ve never been a competitive person. I’ve never even been on an athletic team, and was only a cheerleader in middle school (shocking, I know, right? Not really … I just wanted to be Britney Spears) simply because there were no cuts. I don’t even like watching competitive sports on TV or shows like Survivor. Competing brings out an uber ugly side of people that horrifies me. Having people screaming and being insanely mean for the sake of “winning” doesn’t sound delightful, am I right?

As an adult, competition shows its ugly face in weird ways, not just on sporting fields or whatever the hell you call it. In the office, over men, and what I’m really here to talk about, at sample sales. Oh yes, cue the lightning bolts and scary music, kids.

You would think getting the opportunity to go to a sample sale would be music to my ears, but wrong, sir! You’re wrong! I’ve only attended one, and one was enough for me. It isn’t all tea and crumpets as women in white gloves casually review the merchandise at hand with classical music playing in the background. Oh no. Ladies, or lack their of, are there to bring home the gold, the most spectacular merchandise for the most spectacular price, and they will do anything and everything to make that happen.

These broads bring their A-game and have no qualms with taking a bitch down for some marked down Fendi. They mine as well be wearing protective gear, mouth guards and all, as throwing ‘bows, and not giving a shit for the sake of human kind is all acceptable on this fashion field.

Nothing makes me cringe more than seeing two women fighting in public. Scratch that. Two women fighting in public over clothing and accessories. And at sample sales, especially the big boys like Barneys and Urban Outfitters, the gloves are off to get the goods. Shoving, not saying “excuse me,” hair pulling, cursing, grabbing merchandise out of bins like tomorrow an asteroid is about to strike and the only thing that will save their families is marked down hipster clothing, are all things you are more than likely to see.

Sure, the idea of getting couture for a quarter of the price makes my heart sing. It really does. But having to deal with women who throw their manners to the wind and will say anything and do anything for a good deal isn’t my bag. In fact, keep the bag. You win, crazy lady. No need to make me cry in order to rip the marked down Marc Jacobs out of my hand. Take it. Got enough problems, thanks.
I dare any of you sample sale jocks to take a look at yourself while you are preparing to give the girl eying up the same marked down Theory jacket as you a bloody nose and see how you look. I double dog dare ya.

confessions-of-a-shopaholic