On Stealing From Sephora (Kinda)
Tester mooching as a feminist act
By Alana Levinson
I am a rabid beast hungry for cosmetics. Saliva drips from my mouth as I wrestle open the heavy glass door; my eyes widen as my face is hit with a familiar cool air that smells of slutty angels and chemicals. A calm comes over me when I fully process that I have successfully entered Sephora, the great jungle of female consumerism, and I’m ready to do what all women should: raid the motherfucking place.
Let me be clear — I’m not advocating actually stealing from Sephora (but if that’s your style, do you). And I’m also not saying you should purchase items from the store (although I do that when absolutely necessary). The true beauty of the establishment is that you don’t have to do either of these things to fully enjoy it. One word: testers.
In 1969, when Dominique Mandonnaud first opened his perfumery Shop 8 — what would go on to be the Sephora empire—it was like no other beauty store in the world. Compared to the then-standard buy-before-you-try philosophy, Mandonnaud’s vision was revolutionary; he freed products from oppressive glass countertops and intimidating sales ladies! His concept quickly flourished and went on to impact the philosophies of other stores. There are now 1,700 Sephoras around the world and the flagship Champs-Elysees store in Paris has more visitors annually than the Eiffel Tower.
I’d be willing to bet that most Sephora “shoppers” leave the store empty handed, as I do. I like to see the store as a kind of free-floating powder room that’s always stocked with the best products that cost nothing to use. Let’s say I have a date, or some kind of engagement where I’d like to look and/or smell good, after work. Am I going to lug my own crap around all day? Never. Because located conveniently at Union Square, and another 14 locations in Manhattan alone, is a place with far better options. Fellow Messager Jamie Lauren Keiles likes to call Sephora a “woman embassy.”
One can easily dash in for a quick spritz of Chanel No. 5 or blot that shiny spot on their chin. Didn’t have time to shower this morning? Not to worry — there’s multiple kinds of dry shampoo available. Even better is how in browsing you’ll discover new things about yourself that need fixing. The Ever-Matte Poreless Priming Perfector will remind you that that the pores on your nose are looking a bit big. The Guerlain KissKiss Liplift will make you notice that your pout is a bit lifeless. And do not even get me starting on contouring palettes, which point at my lack of cheekbones and laugh.
Sure, sharing testers with millions of strangers poses some ~health risks~. But as long as you avoid eyeliner and mascara, you are okay? I’ve been doing this since I was a teen and I’m fine, so let’s consider that a scientific study. I also like to think that there is some kind of solidarity among the tester abuser movement. There’s an understanding that you don’t partake in the lipstick when you’re having a herpes flair, for example (also not verifiable, but likely).
Besides, you shouldn’t let the tiny threat of pink eye get in the way of The Best Part: the unspoken pact between people like me and the Sephora employees. I love how they function more like cool big sisters than guarded department store robots (their friendliness was an important aspect of Mandonnaud’s vision back in the day). This is a key when considering how they handle blatant tester freeloading. Which is, by not acknowledging it at all.
When a sales lady approaches me, usually while I’m feverishly rubbing creme blush onto my cheeks like a madwoman, she seems to know the score. She will smile and ask, “Can I help you find anything?” “I’m okay,” I’ll say bashfully. She flashes a smile as she turns to leave, and I know that she knows. And she knows that I know. I’m not going to buy anything, and it’s all good! It’s almost like she understands — on a very deep feminine soul witch level — that I have a Tinder date in 20 minutes and I’m convinced that darker eyebrows are how I’ll hook him.
Comedian Kate Berlant takes this idea to the next level. She believes that women have the right to steal cosmetics, and calls Sephora one of her “anchors.”
Kate Berlant - Stealing Cosmetics
Kate Berlant describes her very specific way of stealing.
www.cc.com
“The situation is women sometimes upon birth are forced into an economy. You have to pay for your own subjectivity constantly. So if you don’t have certain cremes, powders, lotions…The state won’t recognize you, you can’t get a job. It’s very violent.”
The joke is hilarious because it gets at an essential truth: That living up to the expectations of being a Woman™ isn’t just hard, it’s also expensive. The old-school feminist response would be to forgo wearing makeup at all. But this is 2015! So the strategy, as Kate hilariously points out, is something like: Embrace your oppression but also subtly mutter “fuck you” under your breath. That’s how I view my behavior at Sephora, and if you don’t already partake, I humbly ask you to join me in my practice of radical cosmetic mooching.
And if you’re really willing to really challenge the status quo, ask for a little sample to take home with you. That’s the next level of sticking it to the (wo)man.
