Humor
The One Where the Universe Gifts Me Charlotte Tilbury Makeup and Promptly Takes It Away
I really hope my neighbor never reads this.
The box sat unopened in the junk corner of my kitchen.
“What did you order now?” Justin asked as he handed me a small package the day before.
“I didn’t order anything,” I replied taking the box from him. It would be inaccurate to say I don’t always have a stream of packages showing up at the house. It’s usually boring stuff, but there are times when I treat myself.
The shipping label had my correct address, but the name on the label was not mine. Who was Jane Stanley? I didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood by that name. When I looked at the return address, my eyes widened: Charlotte Tilbury. What fun goodies were lurking inside?
As much as I would have liked to be the person who had ordered whatever was in this box, I wasn’t. I began investigating by looking at the members of my neighborhood’s Facebook group. The search came up empty. I even Googled and didn’t find anyone who lived in my town with that name. Who was Jane Stanley? In an effort to be a responsible and neighborly person, I posted in my neighborhood’s Facebook group that I’d received a package for Jane Stanley from Charlotte Tilbury.
The post was viewed by everyone in the group and didn’t receive any comments. After 24 hours, passed, I decided to take down the post. Whoever she was, Ms. Jane Stanley wasn’t part of the Facebook group, and likely not a person in our neighborhood.
After walking past the box for a whole day, I decided to open it. Maybe there would be an order form on the inside with the correct address.
The knife sliced through the label making it easy to open the box. It opened like a treasure chest. I could hear angelic voices as the lid reached its apex. A rich burgundy tissue paper hid the beauty products underneath.
With a soft hand, I lifted the paper and lined up like soldiers ready for battle was a boxed set of lipsticks and lip liner, a concealer in a shiny gold case, a glowy primer, a foundation, a contouring wand, and a tiny lipstick sample. I just love things in miniature.
I felt a little guilty opening the box. I knew I hadn’t ordered the items in there, but I couldn’t resist. What a haul. I moved the items around the box and there was no packing slip.
Had I just been given a little gift from the universe?
I texted my bff.
“Well…possession is 9/10 of the law. I feel like the Universe wants you to have it.”
Maybe Court was right. Maybe the Universe was making up for the previous six weeks of shit and trauma I had endured.
I still wasn’t sure about using or keeping the makeup, but I did bring it upstairs to live on my dresser for another two days.
My sister and I had made plans for a lunch. Since I work from home, it was a nice excuse to put on some cute clothes, a fun pair of shoes, and put on a full face of makeup. I’d been walking past the treasure box of Charlotte Tilbury makeup for two days, and decided it was, in fact, a gift from the Universe.
Thank you, Universe. You are so kind. Makeup and a contour wand surely make up for the absolute shit storm.
You’re the best, Universe.
I got out of the shower, and pulled out the contour wand, concealer, primer, and foundation from the box. I also have quite an extensive makeup collection, but I was dying to try that contouring wand and was on the market for a foundation. It was kismet.
My hair was pulled back as I started applying my makeup. I was so excited to try it all that I’d even put on my contact lenses. Would the concealer hide how tired I looked? Would the foundation filter out the years of sun damage, the cost of growing up a beach baby in Florida?
The packaging on all the makeup was lovely and thoughtful. The shiny gold case the concealer was in clicked open, and I used my ring finger to gently apply it around my eyes. It was luxurious and creamy and stuck nicely to my skin thanks to the glowy primer, I’d used. That contouring wand is fantastic. It was much better than the contouring stick I currently have. Things were really looking up. I hadn’t bought new makeup in a while, and this stuff was fantastic. I arrived to pick up my sister feeling confident and jazzy.
As we drove to the restaurant, I told Michelle about the Universe’s gift.
“You’re not going to believe this,” I told her as we pulled out of her driveway.
“The contouring looks great. It’s super-subtle,” she noted. “As it should be.”
For the first time all summer, it wasn’t a scorching hot day, and the restaurant had the windows open and the breeze was refreshing along with our cocktails.
I looked at my phone as I reached for my wallet. A message from Justin:
It was a picture of a note.
Hi, Neighbors!
It looks like one of our packages has been delivered to your house.
(Delivered Wednesday for Jane Stanley)
If so, would you text/call me so I can come grab it?
My heart sank. Was I wearing stolen makeup? I felt horrible.
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I’d ignored my gut as I eagerly sliced that box of cursed treasure open. It had taunted me, first in my kitchen then in my bedroom, now my beautifully contoured face was red with shame.
“Oh no! I used some of it.” I replied to Justin.
“Good job,” he replied.
I returned a sarcastic gif and looked up from my phone.
“Are you okay?” Michelle asked when she saw my face.
“You are not going to believe this.” I showed her the note on my phone.
“Oh shit. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I whined.
We paid for our food and walked back to the car.
“I can’t believe this is happening. I waited three days. Three whole days. I should have never used it.”
“Honestly, you should just keep it and tell her you never received it. It was delivered to your property.”
My phone buzzed and it was Justin.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll take care of it,” I replied to Justin.
I kept thinking about how cruel the Universe was. This felt like it was happening to me. Why couldn’t I just keep the pretty and expensive makeup? Didn’t I deserve it?
Of course, I didn’t deserve it. I hadn’t paid for it, and I knew that if I was in Jane’s situation, I’d hope my neighbor would return the makeup to me.
“Surely she would get a refund if she told Charlotte Tilbury it hadn’t arrived,” Michelle said. “Just give her back what you didn’t use and then the company will send her new makeup.”
“Ugh, how awkward. She’s going to hate me. I can’t keep it. It would be wrong.”
We started heading toward Michelle’s. I was going to drop her off and then try and figure out a solution.
“Maybe I could just give her cash for the stuff I used?”
“Or you could tell her that you never received it.”
“That’s dishonest. I can’t do that.”
“Oh! I have an idea. They sell it at Nordstrom,” she said looking up from her phone. “We could go to Nordstrom. You could buy the concealer and the wand you used then you could return it later if you don’t want to keep it.”
“Like it never happened.” I smiled as my villain origin story began to take shape.
“Like it never happened,” she repeated as if we were Marv and Harry in Home Alone.
We walked into Nordstrom with a plan. We were going to get the concealer and the contouring wand and get the hell out of there. On Monday, I would come back and return the concealer and contouring wand (maybe keep that since it was fantastic), and I would move on with my life. This whole incident would just be another reminder of quickly the Universe could give and take.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind a cosmetics counter asked.
“Yes, where is your Charlotte Tilbury counter?”
The woman guided us to a counter that was surrounded by makeup lovers. It was one of the busiest counters in the cosmetics section.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?”
I eagerly explained that I needed concealer and the specific shade I was looking for. She came back with it and handed it to me.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, I need the contour wand.”
The saleswoman’s eyes dropped.
“Oh, I’m sorry. We are sold out. We have been for months.”
“Months?” I gulped.
“We just can’t keep it stocked.”
I looked at Michelle who shrugged her shoulders. I paid for the concealer.
“What the hell am I going to do now?”
I pulled out my phone and looked to see if Sephora carried Charlotte Tilbury, and we headed into the mall. Surely, Sephora or Bloomingdales or Dillard’s or whatever other department store would have what we needed. This was the fancy mall. Fancy people usually got what they wanted.
Michelle insisted we stop at Bloomingdale’s even though I kept telling her that our only hope was Sephora.
I’d worn a new pair of very cute sneakers, and was, of course, getting blisters on the back of my ankles adding insult to injury. I swear I’ve never once been able to wear a new pair of shoes without suffering first.
We finally made it to Sephora. Michelle left me in the store, which under normal circumstances would have meant I’d fill an entire basket full of products I absolutely did not need and might lead to bankrupting my family. This time I was in a makeup emergency. I needed that contour wand, stat.
The Charlotte Tilbury section was right at the entrance. The display was lovely. The eyeshadow palettes were calling to me. Who doesn’t love a creamy pink neutral against dark brown eyes? And look at those gorgeous taupe — I was getting distracted. The contour wand was on the bottom of the display.
Excellent. I’d buy it and maybe some eyeshadow, oh and that delightful berry-shade of lipstick, and get out there. Pack up my neighbor’s order, and drop the box off like a thief in the night. Like it never happened.
Wait, where were the wands?
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“Excuse me,” I called to the woman restocking a shelf nearby, “I’m looking for something and don’t see any here.”
She walked over.
“I’m looking for the contouring wa — ”
“We haven’t had those in since I started working here.”
“Umm, okay.”
“I’ve been here for like 10 months. I’ve literally never seen them. There’s like a huge shortage or something.”
“Awesome,” I tried to hold back tears. I was about to be the neighborhood package thief. Someone would shame and cancel me on the neighborhood Facebook group. Eventually, I’d be walked down the main road while my neighbors shouted shame in a parade behind me, my face free of makeup, my eyebrows needing shaping and filling, my lashes bare.
While I waited for Michelle to get her coffee, I sat down and pulled up the Charlotte Tilbury website. I’d just order a contour wand and tell my neighbor what happened. Problem solved. It would make me look like an asshole for using the makeup that hadn’t been claimed for over three days, but whatever.
I typed, “contour wand” in the search bar of the website.
Sold out.
F u c k.
I called the Charlotte Tilbury store at another mall about an hour away they were also out. I tried every location that Google provided within an hour’s radius. How had Jane even been able to order it in the first place? It was sold out everywhere.
When Michelle returned with her coffee, I updated her on the situation.
We walked back to the car and headed began the drive back to Michelle’s house.
“Ugh, and today was going too well…” The day had started swimmingly. The sun was shining, I had gotten a lot of writing done before meeting with my sister. I had on real clothes. Lunch had been delicious, and now I was in a self-inflicted problem with an answer that would leave me looking like a jerk.
“Why don’t you tell her you opened it on accident since your address was on it?”
“Sure, but that doesn’t explain why I used her makeup.” I took a pause. “What if I told her I had a really bad last few months and literally thought it was a gift from the Universe because oh my god I love makeup so much?”
“That’s definitely a reasonable option,” Michelle said rolling her eyes. “Why don’t you tell her you thought the package was your Ipsy subscription and you didn’t realize it until you’d already tried the wand?”
“That’s not a terrible idea, but she probably waited so long to get it because it’s always sold out.” Since the pandemic, it seemed everything was limited and sold out. As much as I wanted to keep this very insignificant thing, I just couldn’t.
“Oh my God, Michelle, this woman is going to hate me.”
“You don’t even know what she looks like. Just offer to pay her for the wand and be done with it. If it was me, I’d just tell her to dispute the charges on her credit card and keep it.”
Here are a few reasons why I would freak out until I figured out a solution that didn’t leave me looking like a package opening Gollum.
- The thought of a neighbor not liking me was just too overwhelming for my people-pleasing self.
- The guilt I felt for using the makeup I had not ordered was sending me into a shame spiral.
- While giving her the money was, at the moment, the obvious solution, what if it resulted in some kind of confrontation? I imagined her yelling at me, “Bitch, who do you think you are? You knew this wasn’t yours and you used it anyway?” Just thinking about some kind of confrontational and tense situation made hot tears sting my eyes.
- I felt bad that she’d probably waited months to get the wand and would have to wait again for it.
- The Universe’s absolutely cruelty had crushed my spirit and had somehow reminded me that I was, in fact, a piece of human garbage who couldn’t keep her greedy paws off things that didn’t belong to her.
Michelle nudged me out of my trance.
“Will it really be obvious that you used it?”
“Yes, the way it’s designed, which is brilliant by the way, it has a soft cotton ball-like top, so the contouring liquid comes through the cotton and you dab it on your face. That’s why it’s so subtle and lovely.” I wanted to cry.
“Screw it. Just give her the money.”
“Maybe I could try and clean it? I’ve only used it once. I bet I could get it clean.” Though I am convinced that I was a walking dumpster fire raining chaos wherever I went, if there was one thing I was good at, it was cleaning.”
“You are good at cleaning, but is it worth the effort?”
“Worst case, I tell her what happened and give her the cash.”
“True. How are you going to clean it?”
“I think my facial cleanser and a makeup brush cleaner should be good.”
“Do you have any micellar water?”
“No.”
“You can take mine.” I could tell she felt she was in on this, too.
I walked into the house. Justin was on the couch chatting with our son. He looked up at me. “Is it taken care of?”
“Not yet, but it will be.”
I ran up the stairs. There was an unexplainable sense of urgency. I needed this Charlotte Tilbury makeup out of my house. The longer it stayed in my house, the more likely I would be to abandon all sense of morality and keep it, and then where would that leave me? I imagined myself being arrested for stealing perfume and eyeshadow from Sephora. Not to mention, she’d probably seen me pull into my driveway. She’d know I’d seen the note. This charade could stand no longer.
First, I repackaged everything just as it had been when I opened it. I lined everything up. I replaced the used concealer with the new one from Nordstrom. My goodness, the packaging was just so lovely. Then I took out the wand and placed a small amount of my facial cleanser on the tip. I agitated it and rinsed it. It wasn’t quite perfect, but it was close. I used the micellar water and rinsed it again, careful not to over scrub because then the tip of the wand would look used — because it was used.
Wait, was I being deceitful? Oh goodness, who cares? I didn’t have time for another guilt spiral.
The cotton, though mostly clean, still looked like it had a bit of makeup in it. I opened my bathroom cabinet, surely, I had some kind of product to fix this under there. I saw some makeup wipes.
“This can’t hurt.”
I gently wiped the cotton and watched as the last remnants of the contouring liquid lifted out. I rinsed it once more and then sprayed the cotton with some isopropyl alcohol to disinfect and sanitize it. I used my hair dryer to dry it and when it was dry, I put it back in the box.
Like it never happened.
For a brief moment, I wondered if I could get away with murder. I shook the thought from my mind.
I took the note from my husband and punched in the number. I would definitely be texting. Can you imagine leaving a voicemail in this year of our lord 2022?
Hey!
Your package is here! Just a heads up, I did open it not realizing it wasn’t mine. Sorry. Let me know when you want to pick it up. I can leave it on the porch for you.
When I walked the package to the porch, I felt a sense of relief. Was I an asshole for using the makeup and then going to these lengths to avoid an awkward confrontation? Maybe I should ask Reddit to decide. What would a sane person do?
Later that evening, I looked out the front door and the package was gone. I had a message on my phone thanking me for holding on to the makeup for her. Blood rushed to my face. Ugh.
The next morning my sister sent me a text message showing me that technically if a package is delivered to your house, legally you can keep it. The person who it is intended for doesn’t have any claim to it. Hmmmm. Had I made it a mistake going through all that trouble?
Regardless, it was over now. I could move on with my human garbage existence, my neighbor none the wise. Of course, I would need the Earth to swallow me whole if Jane ever found out I used her makeup. In the meantime, I’ve set a notification to my email waiting for those damn wands to come back in stock.
Like it never happened.
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