Yesterday, I was reminded once again as to why I can't/shouldn't write contemporaries. There is just so much of modern life I don't quite "get," and I'm not just talking dating, either.
Take make-up. I had occasion to purchase some yesterday. Buying make-up is usually something I do when I have a conference to attend (approximately every three or four years). Otherwise, I don't wear make-up most of the time, and when I do, it's usually concealer (dark eye circles that have nothing to do with lack of sleep), powder and lip balm (not lipstick or even colored). So I pay little heed to the make-up aisle of the local drugstore.
But yesterday there I was, standing staring at the wall of make-up, agog. The colors, the choices, the fancy names, the incredients, the way it was going to make me look years younger.
And the prices! Oh, my word. The prices.
Nope, I just don't get the whole make-up thing.
No wonder I write about (mostly) cosmetic-free time periods.