Smoke and Mirrors at Sephora

It’s not that I don’t wear any make-up at all, and it’s not that I don’t like to get glammed up every once in a while. But on a daily basis, I keep it pretty simple, as far as make-up is concerned. In the mornings, I quickly apply the stuff to my face according to common sense and rely on Mr. Reade (as in Duane Reade) to be my supplier. So when I received an extremely generous gift certificate to beauty mega-store, Sephora, from a friend this Christmas, it was as if I had been given a plane ticket to a foreign country. I was excited and a little afraid. (Was this gift a hint? Well, I’d prefer to think it was more in the “here’s an indulgence she’d never splurge on…” category.)

Though this company started in Europe, there are now stores all over the U.S. and 12 locations in Manhattan. Anyway, I decided to head to the Sephora on the Upper East Side at 67th and 3rd the other night before a date with my fiancé. We were going to a seafood cooking class at Macmenamin’s Grill up in New Rochelle. Not officially in The Informer’s domain, and not exactly a wild night out on the town, but relevant since it was a gift certificate I had given him at the holidays, so it was a night of double cashing in.

I wasn’t fully prepared for the rush of girly giddiness I’d experience upon walking through the doors of this beauty mecca. The place glows. This is how I imagine it must be backstage at the Oscars or at a magazine photo shoot. I may not wear a lot of make-up, but I do fantasize about these sorts of things. I wished I’d worn stilettos, or maybe a pair of those floofy high-heeled slippers and a feather boa. The whole store serves as a gigantic vanity, complete with mirrors and backlighting galore.

I marveled at the variety of products: the perfumes in elegant bottles, eyeshadows in every color of the rainbow and even a “lash bar” serving up false eyelashes tinted neon green. Of course, such a multitude of blush and lipgloss colors can’t be classified as simply “pink” and “red,” but as “dubonett” or “wild bouquet.” I chuckled to also see the names, “foul play,” “misbehave,” and “orgasm.” There are brands I knew (Lancome, Dior) and brands I never heard of (Urban Decay, Nars). I was drawn to one brand called Stila due, not necessarily to the product itself (it all looked the same to me!) but because of its straightforward, brown-bag enviro-type packaging. (And yes, I often buy my wine based on the design of the label.)

I perched on a stool next to a little make-up station, and asked for the full treatment, for them to “do me up” in whatever way they saw fit. I explained that I was a blank slate, a white canvass, a make-up novice with money to burn. My color expert was Candace Jenkins, a gorgeous woman with ridiculously nice skin – clear, smooth, and beautifully toned. Whether this was nature or Sephora-inspired nurture, I trusted her implicitly. She told me she’s been doing color and skin consultation at Sephora for two years.

“So how long do you spend on your make-up when you get ready?” she asked me.
“About two minutes,” I exaggerated: it’s really more like 30 seconds.
Candace laughed. “Okay!” she said, as if this confirmed my make-up naïveté.

First, she removed my sprinklings of pharmacy grade make-up with Cosmedicine’s Healthy Cleanser and dabbed my skin with a moisturizer from the same company. Then, she applied something called foundation primer from Smashbox. She explained that this would eliminate lines and pores. She started in the middle of my face and brushed out. I think she then applied yet another layer, but it’s possible that I missed a step here, since I had my eyes closed. I was just enjoying the pampering…the sensation was similar to getting your hair shampooed.

Candace chose Lorac’s “rose” blush for me. I asked her where exactly to apply the blush (I mean, I knew it wasn’t on your knees, or anything, but) she said that you should smile while doing so, to accentuate the apple of your cheek as a guide then stop at the edge of your eye. Next, she dusted my whole face with something called high definition powder from Make Up For Ever. It’s apparently one of the newest and hottest items in the store. This translucent powder is talc-free and helps the make-up to set. Candace encouraged me to pinch some between my fingers: the silica in it renders it silky and smooth.

While she was making her magic, I asked what most customers come in for. She said that many clients are already using excellent Sephora products and just want to see “the latest and the best.” They might also be ready for a change or interested in learning some new application techniques. And, “some clients just want to play around with their look.”

For my eyes, she decided to basically go with brown tones since this is “a neutral, natural, professional look and transitions well from day to evening.” Cool by me. She also said that browns work for all different eye colors. She used a creamy “chocolate brown” eyeliner from Make Up For Ever on my bottom lid and also on the top. She made the line thicker at the edges, “winging it out, for a flirty look.” She used two different colors of eye shadow for a “smokey eye” or, in order to, “smoke me out.” I tried to not scrunch my eyes while laughing at these terms. She also told me that, where darker eye shadows are concerned, “blend is your friend.” Of course, I had to stop her so I could jot down that excellent adage.

Having someone else apply mascara was a bit dicey, but Candace had a steady hand and I tried not to flinch. She told me to focus my gaze on her shoulder while she gently brushed on Smashbox’s Bionic Mascara in jet black.

Finally, she brushed on some bronzer in a loose ‘W’ formation. This is called “Caribbean” by Sephora; they evidently also have their own brand. This would help me to appear “warm and healthy.” Those sounded like desirable qualities. The final touch was lipgloss called “dolce vita” by Nars. It had a velvety texture and appearance.

It was time for the big reveal: I looked in the mirror. “Wow!” It was me, but a fancier, a bit more polished. I looked more like a woman than a girl, a transition I suppose is long overdue (and I have reservations about)…but my mother would be so proud. And Candace did all of this in less than 30 minutes. She applied something like nine (or was it ten?) products in this short time. I usually use only three.

Because I had to rush out to my cooking class, I had to return a few days later in order to make my purchases. That day, color consultant, Angelique Ferrante, gave me thorough tour of the store to collect some of the products that Candace used. In the process of identifying some new lipstick, she cheerfully painted the back of her hand several different shades of pinkish red until it looked like she’d been attacked by a tribe of raspberries. With her help, I found something similar to what I already wear but slightly more dramatic. While we were darting from aisle to aisle, we caught wind of the fact that Martha Stewart was in the store. I strained my neck and swiveled it around like an owl but couldn’t spot her amid all the mirrors and make-up displays. We heard that she was taller than expected.

As I briefly browsed on my own, a woman asked me if the lipstick she was testing looked more red or more pink. “Orange?” I responded with a smile and a shrug. “How does it look?” “Great!” I said. “But I’m no color expert.” We both laughed.

In the back, there are three different sections of skin care. The Classic section features products by old standards like Clinique and Shisheido. The Natural section, as the name implies, skews toward more natural ingredients. One of these brands, Caudalie, is from a vineyard in France and uses grapes as its main ingredient, i.e., “Beauty from the vine.” There is also a Doctors section, featuring products developed by dermatologists such as Dr. Perricone. One of his products features something called DMAE that somehow involves fish oil and vitamin C, which Angelique told me is known for “brightening, lightening and tightening the skin.” In other words, “BLT.”

So I excitedly bought a few things, all more extravagantly priced than I would normally even consider. And amazingly, this ate up only one third of my certificate. This will give me a chance to go in again…maybe for a BLT, or to get “smoked out” some more, or to indulge in some “foul play.”

Oh, and my fiancé? He thought the full face of make-up looked great, and he added, “you always look beautiful, anyway.” Love that guy.

That night, I cooked in style, dicing and chopping with a little extra flair. Instead of a photo shoot for say, Vogue, I pretended I was modeling my glamorous new look for the pages of… Gourmet or Bon Appetit. The bottom line is that it was fun and I did feel great. And I don’t want to make anybody jealous or anything, but I could have sworn one of those lobsters winked at me.

Smart Cars on the UES

Remember when the Mini Coopers first hit the scene and we all thought they were so tiny and cute? I wanted to go up to every one I saw and just pinch it’s adorable little fender. Well, move over Mini, because now there’s something even more miniature: the Smart Car. These are manufactured by German company, DaimlerChrysler, but actually produced in France. They arrived in the U.S. almost exactly one year ago. One of the first ones to hit town was even displayed at the MOMA. Now, these super small vehicles are starting to speckle the Upper East Side like so many colorful polka dots.

It’s hard to describe how small these vehicles are. They’re wallet-sized. It almost seems as if they could fit in your back pocket. They’re like Vespas with roofs. Of course, since they’re only about 100 inches long, they require very little space (say, about 102 inches) to park. Think about that parking space you recently failed to fit into: a Smart Car owner pulled into it with room to spare. Or that one you passed up because your inner calculator told you to not even bother? Smart Car, no problem.

The best is when they’re parked at the very end of the block. Drivers in any other car wouldn’t even consider those unused inches right before the crosswalk starts. Smart Cars pull in there all the time, almost as if they’re perching, or crouching inconspicuously, in a game of parking hide and seek.

I caught up with Smart Car owners Anna Kepe and Jonathan Haas who got theirs this September and confirmed that, indeed, a car this size makes parking remarkably easy, especially in Manhattan. Besides, Kepe says, “It gets great gas mileage and is totally adorable.”

Because these cars are relatively new, they’re still causing a bit of stir on the street. People stop in their tracks to marvel and coo. In fact, walking by Kepe and Haas’ yellow Smart Car on 75th one day, I noticed a father and young daughter staring at it and giggling as if it were a puppy. Haas says that sometimes he gets spontaneous high fives. Kepe told me that people have even asked, “if they could hug the car. And doormen want to take the car inside the building.”

I first saw cars of this size in Italy. This petite sizing is more standard throughout Europe, but here in the U.S., where, for decades, people have been relying on cars to provide them with status and largesse as much as transportation, the Smart Car is a tougher sell. As Kepe says, “There are people who think that a real car must be BIG.”

Environmentalists of course contend that the solution to a lot of our problems isn’t necessarily just smaller cars on the road, but less of them. I agree. Even so, many of us city dwellers still need a car (I know, up for debate), either because we transport an unwieldy number of items (me) or current public transportation doesn’t yet get us where we need to go (me, again). In these cases, the Smart Car, or something like it, is obviously the “smarter” way to go, rather than say, the heinously large Hummer. For the record, I’m itching to see these two parked beside one another: an old gas-guzzling rhinoceros next to a sprightly hummingbird.

Smart Cars may be small, but they’re mighty. Haas, who is a drummer, claims you can fit more into them than you’d think. “I used to own a van. I have filled the Smart Car with tons of drums, less than the van, but with the roof down, we can get the drums high.” And he says that it actually handles pretty well in the snow and ice, once you get used to it.

Ever since I started seeing these on the street, even my little “compact” car has begun to seem oversized. When it finally expires, I’ll donate what parts of it I can, sprinkle the ashes in a dump then maybe I’ll head over to Smart Center Manhattan, located on the Upper West Side. Then, let the parking party begin.

Midnight Run in Central Park

“Are you crazy?” That was the most common response to my admission (okay, boasting) that I would be participating in the New York Road Runners Midnight Run on New Years. This annual “fun run” is 4 miles and takes place in Central Park. It has been happening for 30 years. When New Years Eve day actually arrived, people starting saying to me: “You’re not still going to do that are you?”

In fact, though the temps were well below freezing and the wind was a-blowing here on the Upper East Side, I was determined. After all, I’d roped four friends into this wacky plan, and I’d been looking forward to it. I did this run five years ago, and it was one of my more memorable New Years Eve’s to date.

It’s cool to start the new year doing something healthy along with thousands of other people. Apparently, more than five thousand laced up their sneakers this year…a decidedly different way of “tying one on.” Unlike more conventional ways of celebrating this holiday (and I’ve done that a lot too), this feels as if you’re setting a positive tone for the months ahead, especially if, like me, you have resolved to be better, healthier, and more motivated in every conceivable way. (Wish me luck.) When the starting gun goes off at midnight, the excited, fleece-clad crowd erupts with cheers and the sky above erupts with fireworks. And then you start moving your feet. It’s a rush, indeed.

But I’m not going to say it wasn’t a challenge, on a few different levels. First, and most shockingly, we discovered around 9:30 pm that all the Starbucks were closed for blocks around. Closed? Double lattes were a critical part of our getting-pumped plan. Instead, we aimed toward the 3 Star Diner on 76th and 1st for hot chocolates with espresso. But on our way, we got stuck in a wind tunnel so strong and so fiercely cold that each step was like sparring with a gigantic icicle.

“Are we really going to do this?” Three of us looked at each other doubtfully, in a momentary lapse. The espresso shots (we had few of them) quickly got us back on track. At my apartment, we further pre-partied by trying to replicate some of Beyonce’s dance moves in her video “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)”. This was a good warm-up, especially for the abdominals – let’s just say my attempts to groove provoked considerable laughter.

Thus commenced the Ceremonial Layering, during which, the “Should We Wear One, Two or Twenty-Seven Layers on the Legs?” topic was hotly debated. Then, my girl friend presented me with a surprise set of custom-made gloves, with a window cut-out designed to show off the new ring I recently acquired. (Yes, that kind of ring, Beyonce. A fairytale story that could fill up a whole other blog…)

Anyway, pinning on those numbers makes you feel as legitimate as a marathoner. In fact, I’m not much of a runner at all: my weekly treadmilling has taken me up to only about three miles, maximum. Conversely, three people in our group, or, “team” as I preferred to call it, have actually run marathons, a feat I have trouble even imagining.

Fortunately, a few short steps off my stoop, we caught a cab and made it to the park entrance at 72nd and 5th Avenue just in time to meet up with our other two friends near the bandshell, and see some of the costumes for the contest that takes place right before the race. Though we didn’t make into the center of the action, we saw a bunny, a Santa, and a few tutu-clad fairies, at the periphery.

Lots of people wear funny hats for this event, and others go all-out. While running, we spotted one woman wearing American flag tights. Another had a silver lame cocktail dress over her running tights, accented with a shawl or evening wrap covered with white balloons. More than once, I attempted to snap pictures of the great costumes passing us, and I almost tripped on someone’s foot or slipped on the ice in the process, so I decided to resist the “photojournalism” (very much in quotes) in the name of self-preservation.

My brother called at 12:22, when we were somewhere around the 2 mile mark. “You’re still running?” he asked. “Yup,” I panted. I guess he thought I had a five-minute mile? Not quite: try more like 12 minutes. Our team stopped very briefly twice to get cups of water and champagne (disappointingly, it was sparkling cider this year) and to re-tie our laces, but I think we all considered it to be a full-out victory. I crossed the finish line with my hands in the air. We all high-fived while grinning, and trying not to limp (oh, the knees, the ever-creaky knees…) “Did you win?” my mom asked, jokingly, when I dialed her around 1 AM. “Sure did!” I answered, buzzing on endorphins.

This was truly a great night. I recommend this run to everyone, whether you’re a so-called runner or not. And the wintry weather actually makes it even more exhilarating: you feel a weird camaraderie with all the other crazies because of it. Despite the winds at 25 miles per hour and the 17 degree temp, with a “real-feel” of negative 5 according to 1010 WINS, it really wasn’t bad once you were moving. Granted, the chill crept in a little more aggressively before and especially after the run, but, if you’re creative enough, you can even start to see the shivers as part of the workout.

As planned, we caught cabs and headed over to Upper East Side staple, Gracie Mews Restaurant on 81st and 1st afterwards. There, I, for one, proceeded to un-do a lot of that healthiness with some bubbly and far far far too many French fries. The place was bustling with happy revelers who’d been involved with quite different celebrations from ours. Even our waitress seemed to be having fun.

Ringing in, or I should say, running in the New Year with friends was fantastic…it feels like it’s going to be a very good one.

New York Road Runners hosts lots of fun runs and races, both long and short, in the park all year long. Their offices are on 89th between Madison and Fifth.