Sephora: Wow Me. Please. I beg you.

I feel like over the past few weeks I've expired. I was feeling good, feeling like I looked decent, then something went seriously wrong. It was like I had an expiration date; I woke up one morning 10 lbs heavier, 10x wrinklier and with 10 inch roots. I've been going back and taking stock on what was different and wanting to blame something other than my newly renewed love for all things bacon, but instead decided that I just needed new face make-up. Any excuse for a trip to Sephora.

I love Sephora. For awhile I tossed around the idea of a "SephoraWhora" blog dedicated to all things make-up and products, but nixed the idea for fear that the only thing I would have left to talk about on this blog would be my kids. In my head, Sephora is this wonderful garden of eden, where one can always have full lips, rosy cheeks and perfect skin. And they also have a pretty amazing return policy.

Unbeknownst to me and my overflowing make-up drawer until recently, you can return that lipstick that you bought that you wore twice before realizing it make you look like more like a $2 hooker than a Victoria Secret model. Which was great because I had purchased a rather pricey foundation just a few weeks ago. After seeing a few pictures which made me look like I had my own personal oil spill spreading across my forehead, I realized this particular product just wasn't the one for me. At the counter, the sales person happily exchanged it for me and pointed me in the direction of someone who could help me chose one with a little bit more of the matte finish I needed.

But could they really help me?

Recently I've come to the realization that Sephora isn't doing enough to train their sales consultants properly. They have this wonderful magical store filled with color, sparkles and the hope of ageless, timeless beauty. And they have me, 30-something-year-old mom trying to stop their child from drawing on the walls with lipstick samples, the glimmer in my eye of lost youth and the desperate NEED to try and feel cool and hip. One would think they'd look at me and see a walking commission check. That the ability to up-sell me rests completely in the uttering of phrases such as "hottest at the moment" or "can't keep this in stock."

This particular salesperson showed me the matte finish make-up I was inquiring about, tested the color on my cheek and was about to just send me on my way when I posed the question: "What's the hottest thing I need to have right now?" To which, I get in response a look look of confusion as the sales clerk desperately looked around the store while asking "Well, what do you need?"

NEED?! I don't NEED anything from this place! Sephora is about want and possibility. NEED is the Target cosmetics section for plastic hair bands and eye make-up remover. When I walk into a store and I ask them to tell me what to buy that will trick me into thinking that I look 10 years younger, they should sit me down, hand me a mimosa and put on a freaking Broadway-esque performance of products.

Had this situation only happened once, I would blame on the sales person having an off-day. But this happens almost every time, in any store I go to. Which is why tomorrow I have to go back and again return the foundation that this time ended up being about two-shades too light for my skin tone.