How?! Sephora children in my lectures????
By: Grace Donahue
As I settled in for my Tuesday/Thursday 2:30-5:15 lecture, I double-checked that I hadn’t forgotten anything in the far-off land that is my South Campus apartment.
Laptop, check. Phone fully charged for a mid-lecture scroll, check. An obscene amount of water, check. Retinol and hyaluronic acid serum, waitttttt.
That last one was not a lecture necessity and certainly did belong to me, but as I sat — baffled by the appearance of this anti-aging holy grail product — I heard footsteps approach, “Hey girly pop! I see you picked up my Greened Out Giraffe Brightening Serum, but you can’t have it, my mom just bought it for me!”
The small creature in front of me looked just like you or me (even though I’m sure she didn’t; you and I are college-aged adults and I was looking at the yet-to-be-broken-by-academia face of a 12-year-old girl).
At this moment, a deep-seated fear crept into the back of my head — Sephora children are here, in my lecture hall. I wasn’t sure whether to cry, scream or moisturize! How were they able to evolve this fast?? I thought it would be another 6 months before these terrifying mutants figured out how to apply to college (I think they thought it was a new concealer).
They must’ve started listening to the 17-year-old elderly hags talking about the CommonApp and, through Google, learned that this was not the newest technique for foundation application.
Nervously, I craned my neck around the small child wearing head-to-toe Urban Outfitters, and there they were: her gaggle of fellow mall children gone wrong. They were surrounded by piles of neon and white bottles and vials, with lip plumpers rolling across their desks and chemical exfoliants that created a fortress around their crew.
“…So I’m gonna just leave this skin plumping cream with you, girlie. You’re looking a bit… tired. Anyway, see you never, grandma!” With that last dagger in my elderly heart, she skipped to the back corner of the lecture hall with the rest of her dewy-skinned demons.
As I got up to leave the basement of CGS (the truest depths of hell), the back of the room was empty. The Sephora Children had left as soon as they appeared on campus that day. If you listen closely you can almost hear their insults from the CAS bathroom mirrors about your icky lip combo.