Stan Sitwell
I got eyelash extensions this weekend for the first time ever. Before we got started I had a consultation with both the salon’s owner and the technician. We talked a lot about what style and length would be right for me, but most of the conversation was in Japanese so I actually had no real clue about what was going on. Right before I was about to step into the room the manager stopped me and asked if I was “dressy.” I was wearing a $20 H&M dress, flip flops and no makeup. I was like, “Huh?” She said, “You usually dressy?” motioning up and down at my cheap ass dress. Because of the language barrier, I took it to mean, “Do you wear a lot of dresses?” And I do. But only because my jeans still don’t fit me yet. So I said, “Oh, yes, almost every day.” She took the technician aside, said some more stuff in Japanese and then we got started.
Two hours later, I looked in the mirror when we were all done and my lashes are so long and curly and thick that they touch my eyebrows and swipe my glasses with each blink. It’s a bit much, considering that I spend a lot of time barefoot and braless in my home hanging out with an infant. They look nice but also very “dressy,” like I should be going to someplace fancy like the opera.
