After a recent trip to the Korean Spa, where perhaps I had gotten dehydrated, melted my brain, and seen some really excellent infomercials on Korean beauty products, I asked my homegirl if we could stop by the Korean Mall. They have the biggest, prettiest fruit in their supermarket and on previous trips to the mall she mentioned a “Korean Sephora”. Oh hell yes I want to go to Korean Sephora.

I loaded up on these ridiculously large apples and found the curry mix with instructions in English as well as Korean, having learned my lesson buying food with directions I can’t read. I’m all for winging it, but not when it makes me hangry. So under the guise of food shopping, I casually suggested we hit the beauty supply store.

This would have been the optimum time to point out to my Korean that I am a sucker. For those of you who know me, I’m unreasonably gullible. I am the weirdo who went to film school, and although I’m aware of the gaffers, grips, craft services, generators, boom poles, and camera operator, I still scream at scary movies. It doesn’t matter if I’m home or in a theater, I let out  screams that once, when I was dog sitting, scared my friend’s dog into attack mode.

Anyway, even with a few years out of the marketing game, I am still highly susceptible to marketing. The lady at the Korean Beauty Supply didn’t need any marketing or  gift with purchase incentives, because she had that charming harsh Korean honesty on her side. Even with her limited grasp of the English language she managed to tell me, “You have pimples.” Wow, just like that. She walked right up and told me I desperately needed specific, hella pricey, products to spruce up my grill. Initially I resisted, I was coming out of a three hundred degree sauna, so I looked like hell, but as her harsh assessment sunk in, I found myself with a bag and a new frequent buyer loyalty card in my wallet.

I am telling you, I can be sold anything, I am that Eskimo buying ice cubes. However, I am also an innovator. Before Christmas I bought myself a Clarisonic, which is an expensive hand held face washing device made by the same folks who blessed us with fancy rechargeable electric toothbrushes. At first it was another case of marketing, but this thing actually works. As someone who buys 3 pairs of the same sneakers, if it works I buy it. So  when I heard they made a fancier little machine that puts your lotion on for you, well I’m a fucking idiot for shit like that! I investigated and the “Opal” was outta my budget, but it got me thinking.

Supposedly, what makes this tiny electronic lotion applicator so effective is the “micro-vibrations”. I don’t know about micro vibrations, as I’ve always figured bigger is better. It occurred to me that maybe I needed to hit the Pleasure Chest, which is a local love shack, rather than Sephora. So now I’m running my own test trials and applying my face lotion with a vibrator.

Beauty Regime

Genius, I know.