January blues? Join le club

Immediately after recovering from the first virus of 2011 I've been struck down with a nasty bout of stomach flu, so it's not exactly been glamour central chez Pandora this week. Not being able to move much from the realm of the sofa, I installed a little network of supplies about me so that I may negotiate the suffering with distraction. Surrounded by mobile phones, remote controls, the laptop and endless cups of honeyed tea, I wiled away the hours watching antiques shows, makeover shows (both home and human) on tv and youtube, and by browsing online catalogues. Now, I do realise that I could have been doing something much more meaningful with my sofa time; leisurely study some French, or finish reading one of many novels I've only half read, or even watch something a bit more challenging than Cash in the Attic. But on days like these the one solace I crave is a good old catalogue!
Oh the lure of the catalogue... all those wonderful things that could be mine placed side by side, filling the pages with promises and my heart with desire! Ok, maybe that's a bit much, but seriously, as a child I got excited by every new Argos catalogue that somehow materialised in our house. I remember pouring over the catalogue slowly, to savour every item and make my fantasy selections which I then meticulously cut out and stuck into a scrap book. Back then at the tender age of 7 my preferred sections were jewellery (courtesy of the grandly named Elizabeth Duke) and Barbie dolls. So my scrapbook was filled with enormous diamond cluster rings, monstrous cubic zirconia necklaces, and Barbie cars.
The Barbie bit I guess is pretty normal, but when I look back on my jewellery choices, however, the phrase 'pimping it large' comes to mind. Oh the shame...

Argos Catalogue circa 1984, featuring the Crystal Barbie doll which I possessed for a mere 4 days before she was brutally stamped on by my brother. I never got over the trauma...

Still, every time a catalogue pops through the door, or is handed out in shops, or displayed online, I'm seriously engrossed in a way which makes my husband think that I may be missing a neuron or two. I think it's because I love the idea of choosing, of making selections, of thinking about how this new product can enhance my life and bring me joy. When I browse a catalogue I actually find myself imagining I have the item I'm looking at and assessing it's value to me. It's basically another form of window shopping. I love all sorts of catalogues, but my absolute favourite has to be the Lush catalogue. Printed like a newspaper, I'm ashamed to admit I'm more likely to be reading the Lush Times rather than The Observer. It's just the way they describe the products, they create an image which is almost edible, and I end up craving the scents like I crave cupcakes. Despite my little catalogue obsession, I rarely end up buying anything. I do have a good deal of self-restraint (although I'm sure hubby would agree to disagree)! There was however one catalogue that I fell victim to time and time again. It came as a beauty supplement in one of the many magazines I used to buy in my late teens and it was called Le Club des Créateurs de Beauté.

Yes, it was French! Oh the glamour! There was skincare, haircare, bodycare, make-up, accessories.... all with that highly desirable French touch. I couldn't resist, and seeing as I had just received my first cheque book, I placed my first order for some Cosmence skincare products and a few bits of Agnès b make-up. It was like Christmas when the parcel arrived, but the joy was short-lived when the morning after I had used the all-in-one cleansing lotion which had promised radiant, poreless skin I had my first (and only) major reaction. My entire face apart from my eye area was red, angry and swollen, like it had been burnt. I was gutted. I looked like a red panda for about 5 days until the redness had subsided. I wanted radiant, not radiating...
Still, the make-up was nice. And I got good use out of the liquid eyeliner and lip lacquers. When Le Club had special offers on I ordered some gimmicky stuff too, like coloured mascaras (a total swiz) and jewel-toned eyeliners which I didn't really know what to do with back then. I continued to browse the skincare with interest, but once bitten twice shy, and I never took the risk again. I realised after about a year or so of ordering stuff I didn't need, that I loved the Le Club catalogues so much more than the products. The real joy for me was in the imagining what they would be like and in the fantasy selection process. It was always lovely to open up a much anticipated parcel of beauty products but somehow they never really lived up to the hype I created all on my ownsome. Le Club des Créateurs de Beauté  is still running in Europe, although they have unfortunately ceased operations in the UK. I had a quick peek at their French online catalogue just now for the first time in years, and what do you know, they have a sale on...