WWPD goes socialist

I did what needed to be done, and headed to the Flatiron district (appropriate, given the situation) to see what Sephora had in the way of hair-flattening devices. Ricky's had a good selection, but the explosive device formerly known as my old hair iron was once a Ricky's purchase, so I couldn't get myself to repeat that transaction. I hadn't noticed this before, but right next to the Sephora on 19th and 5th is a store called Essentials--I'd thought the only one was on the West Side. As versus Sephora, Essentials has the feel of being the store for those in the know, those who will not be swayed by shiny things when out purchasing... shiny things. This is a subtle but important point: just because you want some beauty products does not mean you want to trade your entire paycheck for eyeshadow, which is Sephora's purpose. Essentials is an easier place to enter and exit in a reasonable amount of time.

One might think there's something contradictory about a store selling beauty products calling itself "Essentials," but as I mentioned, this was what needed to be done, so the name is justified. Both Jo and the woman at Essentials remarked that I didn't need much in the way of hair equipment since my hair is already straight; to both I replied, the thing only exploded once I'd finished using it that one last time.

The above less-than-riveting anecdote leads to the essential of this post: no matter how ardent a believer in the free market, everyone has certain stores or aspects of capitalism that cause her inner communist to emerge. Sephora doesn't much bother me, nor do Starbucks, McDonalds, or i-banking, whatever that may be. For me, it's the following (with no links to stores, since all links function as advertising):

1) Ralph Lauren: Come in, and I will sell you whiteness.

2) Kay Jewelers; more generally, TV commercials for jewelry: Come in, and I will sell you your wife's affection.

3) Ads in the NYT Magazine: Need an apartment with an extra 30 bedrooms? Or perhaps you just sold your company for $50 million, and are worried about how this will impact your family's values? Um, oh well.

4) Not having a dishwasher: I had one in my old place, for which I paid Chicago-ish rent for a Park Slope-ish location. My current apartment has... a sink, a sponge, and a drying rack, and has rent that's just a bit higher. Until I once again live somewhere with a dishwasher, I will have a constant underlying feeling of class resentment, a weird sort of class resentment that causes me to resent many people who are not in fact well-off.

5) The Annual Report from the girls' school I attended, grades K-8: In the photos, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves at some event or another in the Hamptons. Since I only receive these newsletters when I meet my parents in Manhattan and they give me the mail that still gets sent there, I always end up reading the Reports on slow, weekend-service subway rides back to Brooklyn.

Vive la Revolution!