It’s the weekend everybody!

While the asphalt on the pavement outside my flat is slowly burning up in the summer heat, I sit inside in the cool and think about my plans for the evening. Actually, to be honest I don’t think about it that much. In this season, everyone will emerge eventually as it gets later, as soon as the evening and more amenable temperature come knocking at their door, just like always, ready to enjoy themselves in the city’s cafes and clubs. Let’s spring ahead now though to the Sunday morning and to a situation which may well be familiar to some of you. I’ll wake up after a turbulent weekend, to meet with my own battered reflection in the mirror. It will stare at me reproachfully, asking me things like “Do you realise what you look like? Did you dance on your own face last night? And do you realise quite how ridiculously tired your eyes look?”. Here we have arrived at the biggest problem: the eyes. How does it go again? The eyes are meant to be the windows to the soul, something like that? Well, my friends, on this Sunday morning the eyes will look like something closer to a broken-down pair of barn doors, and the soul at this point will probably still be sitting in some club and trying to dance to the last beats the DJ is laying down before he goes to bed himself. To be honest, the cleaning lady has probably got to work in that club already. Having successfully resurfaced into partial consciousness, I will then mechanically and painstakingly make my way, through carefully-planned movements, to the fridge. Having opened it, I won’t have to look long to find what I’m searching for, as it’s pretty much empty (where would students be without pasta and sauces that come in a plastic tub?). I will find my little bottle of Kimberly Sayers Eye Lift Gel, spread it in a thick layer under my eyes and then hurriedly grope my way to the bathroom, to shower the club out of my system and to make it clear to the part of me that still thinks it’s there that the night is now over, actually, and I definitely have a breakfast date I’m supposed to be turning up to. While I’m undergoing this kind of spiritual and mental resurrection, the gel will have it’s 15 minutes to sink in and to work it’s little wonders. It’s actually the case that, once you gently wipe away the excess from under the eyes, the area below has become astonishingly fresh and somehow smoother and firmer. I basically use the gel every day now and am as much taken with the refreshing effects as I am of the lovely delicate scent it has. Is it Ylang Ylang?. The thing I am most taken with, however, is that even in times of complete desperation that thick layer of cream cannot fail. (By the way, I feel that line could have been spoken by a Z-lister: ‘Oh, that thick layer of cream is simply unassailable, darling!”)

A wonderful summer’s evening to you all.

As a final endnote: I feel I should mention that my mother loves this gel too and raves about it being organic and not in the least greasy, and generally also that I as a ‘young person’ am in absolutely no need of it. Dear Mother, do you not realise that I only look like I don’t need this stuff because I’m using it practically every day?!