I have a love/hate relationship with Lush Cosmetics. I love their products but I hate their salespeople. Being a somewhat socially anxious person, I find entering a Lush shop to be extremely stressful. If you so much as glance at a product, a salesperson will sidle up to you, creep into your personal space and talk at your face in an aggressively hip manner like some kind of Generation Y cyborg who does not know how to feel. I’ve almost been reduced to tears by their intense eye contact, trapped like a deer in the headlights as they dribble deadpan compliments at me about my hair while trying to tell me how “conceptual” their roll-on perfume is. One time I tried to outsmart them by sneaking in really fast, grabbing exactly what I wanted and running to the cash register. Nope. They still accosted me while I stood in line, blabbering at me about how great my choice was and how I simply must try this product as well and also this one and that one until all my resistance is washed away and I am dragged down into the sudsy hell where they keep their victims once they suck the essence from their soul and lock it in one of their recyclable pots.
So I decided to try and make my own bath bombs. I found a bath bomb making kit online, chose some fragrances (rose and violet, of course) and ordered it, undoubtedly putting myself onto some kind of government watch list in the process.
Everything seemed to be going very well. I mixed in all the ingredients, including a dash of purple colouring that came with the kit. The instructions didn’t specify how much colouring to put in, and it was a bit hard to mix it through, so I might have put in a little more than I needed. I didn’t think it would really matter, though. It made the bath bombs look super pretty!
Much prettier than my attempt at a rainbow layer cake a few weeks back…
So I was super happy with how my first attempt at bath bombs worked out. All I had to do was wait for them to dry a little and then I could test one out.
In the evening, I sat in my bathtub, giddy with anticipation. I held the bath bomb aloft, thinking, “Take THAT, Lush! I don’t need you anymore. Never again will your terrifying salespeople attempt to rub lotions on me without my consent. I have won! I am my own Lush now! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!”
I plunged that bath bomb into the water. Fizzing purple bubbles spewed forth. It worked! It fizzed and smelled pretty and did everything a bath bomb was supposed to do. But then I realised that the purple colour was not diluting in the water. It was clinging to my legs, to the walls of the bath tub. Just like poor Violet Beauregarde, I was turning violet.
I jumped out of the bath and ran to the shower to desperately scrub the stain from my skin, then I did the same to the bath tub. Despite this, both the tub and myself are still slightly purple. I don’t know if the tub will ever recover, and I guess the seven other bath bombs I made from the same batch are useless. Despite promising beginnings, my bath bomb venture ended in purple tears.
You win this round, Lush.