There was a time when a beauty sale meant something. A time when you could stumble upon a half-priced lipstick in a shade that didn’t look like a bad decision. When you walked into a store–or, more accurately these days, hovered over your laptop with a debit card in one hand and misplaced optimism in the other—and emerged victorious, having secured a luxury lipstick at a price so low, you considered framing the receipt. ‘Limited stock’ meant act fast, not refresh the page in five minutes and it’ll be back like nothing ever happened.
Nowadays a sale feels less like a celebration and more like a scavenger hunt, where the prize is a 5% discount and the deep, unshakable suspicion that you’ve been had.
Up to 10% off and other exercises in disappointment
Few phrases in the English language are as deflating as ‘up to’ X% off. What am I supposed to do with this? Adjust my savings goals? Put a down payment on a slightly nicer coffee? The wording alone is an act of mischief—up…
