It’s an increasingly frequent dialogue I am having of late. The topic being the lack of consideration for one’s beauty regimen if indeed one exists at all. The concern predominantly stems from those outside of the realm of GEISHA as our customers generally subscribe to the importance of “Ritual” in beauty and wellbeing.
Recently a friend and I spoke at length on this very subject as we exchanged ideas for how she might effectively guide her own audience on the subject of beauty/personal care. Her notion was that most of her clients experience certain financial limitations that perhaps mine are not accustomed to. What I challenged her to consider was how likely it was that most of her clientele (like many of us) have a bathroom cabinet overflowing with unused, rotting products. The fact is we all purchase an abundance of items, with vigour in fact but what is lacking is the intent to practice a commitment to such items, to actually making the use of said products part of a daily Ritual. Our exchange was confessional in nature as she confessed that I had precisely captured the state of her bathroom cabinet when I spoke of unused rotting products. “I slap stuff on without a care,” she admitted, “then randomly move on to the next item that promises miracle results at a moments notice.”
As we expanded our dialogue I shared my commitment to an evening beauty/wellness ritual. My friend used words like “anoint” and ceremony” not in a religious context but in how I use our Body Oil in particular and the importance it plays in my end of the day post bathing ritual.
A similar conversation took place a couple of days later with a woman who wanted to speak with me before purchasing products from GEISHA for the first time. She too spoke of a haphazard approach to personal care and wanted to explore how to incorporate this “Ritual” into her daily hectic life. I asked her to describe her bathing routine before bed.
“Oh, I don’t have one,” she confessed. “I just wash my face with water and (if I remember) reach for whatever is close at hand and plonk it on my face.”
This time I tried a different approach. “Well, how do you think your husband feels about your total lack of care before you lay down next to him for the night?” I asked. (Now, I am unmarried. It is therefore plausible that I romanticise the notion of having a husband but I do feel it important whether we sleep alone or otherwise that we lay down as our best selves in order to wake up so, and to also give great consideration for the person whom we sleep next to on a constant basis). “I mean,” I continued, “don’t you want to feel good?
“You know I haven’t given it much thought” she replied. “That’s a good point. Well what do you do?”
And so I shared.
“Goodness!” she exclaimed “You go to bed ready for SEX!!”
An interesting conclusion I’m sure you’ll agree. Tempted to delve into the narrative that best highlights how such a routine be a most personal endeavour, I simply endorsed her statement.
“Always be prepared,” I championed, “always be prepared.”
Bali James 