I love the blogsphere. Oh, sure, there are blogs I like and there are blogs I don't, but in general I feel like bloggers are my peeps. My posse, or some such misappropriated 'street' term.
Anyhoo. So every now and then I feel like I'm out of step with this huge diverse community. This 'hood full of my homies. (That's my last one, I swear bitches.) It's kind of hard to tiptoe around the blogsphere these days without someone giving a shout out to how much they love Lush. Maybe it's the blogs I frequent, but I don't think I've ever read a single dissenter. (Sure I mostly read blogs by women and people of the homosexualist persuasion, so it's a skewed sample I agree.)
I can't bring myself to even walk into the store. I will scurry past as fast as I can, I have a Lush Aversion situation happening. Here in Sydney there is a big Lush store in the basement level of The Queen Victoria Building shopping precinct. Here's my issue. It stinks! You can't even walk past this place without wading through a thick fog of various really strong smells. It's so strong that I've even looked to see if they aren't pumping some sort of spray out into the arcade.
Not to mention that the store looks so hectic, music pumping and staffed by young spokesmodels. If I want to buy an anti-wrinkle product I do not want to be made to feel old when I do it. Cut me some slack, like the skin on my neck. Give me an octogenarian saleslady and subtle lighting, preferably.
I think my aversion is fed by the fact that just a few doors away is that temple of calm, that serene edifice to subtle scents and savagely expensive eye creams with stuff like ground up tourmaline in them (That's a gem stone, people. It's like jewellery for your skin!) called Aveda. Sadly no octogenarian salesladies, but you can't have everything, right?