The Case of the Vanishing Makeup
As a gift to our mother, Sister-san and I scheduled a family portrait for the day after Christmas. Mother Media doesn’t have any formal photos of herself with her granddaughter, CNE, so we decided to fill that gap while we were all together for the holidays. We even went so far as to make sure all the grown-up girls had new purple sweaters to match the little one’s party dress, and that Chef Jeff had a tie with the right color stripes in it.
All went according to plan. We arrived at the portrait studio only a few minutes late, all primped and polished and primed. The photographer captured several nice shots of various family groupings, and at least one of CNE spinning in a circle to make her pretty taffeta skirt flare. We completed our sitting without any meltdowns from either the two-year-old or the grown-ups, and Mom could not have been more pleased.
As we packed up to leave, however, a problem arose. I had brought my makeup bag into the building with me, but now it was nowhere to be seen. No one could remember whether I had carried it into the studio or left it in the reception area, so we scoured both locations. We moved furniture, props, holiday decorations . . . no luck. Finally I left without it, puzzled and frustrated.
I called the studio the next day to thank the photographer for a great session, and to inquire about my makeup bag. Despite enlisting her husband’s fresh eyes in the hunt, she had not located it. Apparently a small Bermuda Triangle existed somewhere in her studio, and my kit had fallen into it. Resigned, I purchased minimal backup supplies for my return to work the next day.
Later that evening, the call came in: they’d found my bag! It had gotten wedged under one of the props, a little red wagon. Every time someone rolled the wagon aside to look beneath it, the bag slid along with it. The bag was finally revealed when someone lifted the wagon instead of rolling it.
So I was reunited with my cosmetics and we all lived happily ever after.
I get to look at the portrait proofs tonight so we can narrow the field of choices for the final prints. I hope the camera captured the fact that I took time to powder my nose.
All went according to plan. We arrived at the portrait studio only a few minutes late, all primped and polished and primed. The photographer captured several nice shots of various family groupings, and at least one of CNE spinning in a circle to make her pretty taffeta skirt flare. We completed our sitting without any meltdowns from either the two-year-old or the grown-ups, and Mom could not have been more pleased.
As we packed up to leave, however, a problem arose. I had brought my makeup bag into the building with me, but now it was nowhere to be seen. No one could remember whether I had carried it into the studio or left it in the reception area, so we scoured both locations. We moved furniture, props, holiday decorations . . . no luck. Finally I left without it, puzzled and frustrated.
I called the studio the next day to thank the photographer for a great session, and to inquire about my makeup bag. Despite enlisting her husband’s fresh eyes in the hunt, she had not located it. Apparently a small Bermuda Triangle existed somewhere in her studio, and my kit had fallen into it. Resigned, I purchased minimal backup supplies for my return to work the next day.
Later that evening, the call came in: they’d found my bag! It had gotten wedged under one of the props, a little red wagon. Every time someone rolled the wagon aside to look beneath it, the bag slid along with it. The bag was finally revealed when someone lifted the wagon instead of rolling it.
So I was reunited with my cosmetics and we all lived happily ever after.
I get to look at the portrait proofs tonight so we can narrow the field of choices for the final prints. I hope the camera captured the fact that I took time to powder my nose.
posted by Jugglernaut at
9:48 AM
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