Turning Pink (cont.)

How a year with Mary Kay turned a shy writer into a gutsy moneymaker. It wasn't the lipstick.

And Studio Pink attire is much more professional than anywhere I’ve worked. Snazzy abounds. It’s a mix of the Mary Kay dress code, though the colors change every year or so: grey suits (directors with a team of at least 30), red jackets with black skirts (team leaders and star recruiters with a team of at least three); and white blouses with black shirts or a black dress (everybody else). Plus pantyhose and close-toed shoes. I own neither.

If I want to hang with the makeup girls, I have to look the part. I buy a straight black skirt at Ann Taylor, along with some black hose and shoes, and am back on the road to blending. Though the pantyhose rule was revoked in 2007, units across the country still uphold the expectations of their founder.

Now for the makeup. Everyone I’ve met so far in Mary Kay has a natural glow. Their skin is flawless, eyes sparkly, lips plump. Still, I can’t shake the blue eyeshadow images of my youth, where foundation looked as though it was applied with a putty knife and lashes are so thick with mascara they may as well be tarantula legs. Putting my own glamour in their hands is a leap of faith, but it’s one I have to make if I’m really going to pull this off. Every Thursday, Marti (a pink Caddy driver and director of Marti’s Miracle Makers, the unit I’m in) and Elizabeth (cheer-leading director of the Elizabeth Queen Believers, a sister unit) co-host these Success Meetings at Studio Pink, and they encourage us to bring along guests for free facials.

“Facial” is the enticing code word for a product demonstration, around which the meetings revolve; they are a way to bring in Mary Kay virgins and get them to try out the goods. I have a hard time even imagining any of my friends willingly attending a two-hour session devoted to self-pampering. Mary Kay ladies have a no-touch rule, so they simply hand you the product and instruct you on how to use it. I can see it now: “Hi, Alyssa, would you like to have a free facial?”

“Free! Sure!”

“OK, here’s your moisturizer and here’s your cleanser. Just put it on, and you’ll love the way your face feels!”

“I thought you said it was a facial?”

Fortunately, since I’m new to the business, I get a free pass from bringing a guest. Instead, Marti gives me a facial so that I can learn how to do it for my own customers (knock on wood).

I sit at a table with three other women. No time for small talk: Marti immediately sets a small mirror in front of me and a Styrofoam tray, on which she squirts five squiggles of different creams. She places a shiny, colorful card next to the tray. My tablemates receive the same treatment from their own Mary Kay representatives. At the front of the room, another Mary Kay director leads the facial by reading verbatim from a flip chart.

I follow along, cleansing with a circular motion to increase my skin’s radiance. My face softens as I apply Time-Wise Day and Night solutions to diminish signs of aging. It practically plumps with hydration as I swath it in TimeWise Age-Fighting Moisturizer. The last squiggle is foundation, which I smear on in a circular motion, as directed.

“Now how does your face feel?” Marti asks. “Isn’t that the soft, smooth feeling you love?” Yes. Yes, it actually is!

“And that’s just after using these Mary Kay products once. With all the additional anti-aging benefits the Miracle Set offers, just think how your skin will look and feel when you use it every day.” I’m thinking, I’m thinking!

Next she tells us to lift the shiny cover on the card she gave us. Underneath the plastic I find smudges of lipstick, blush and eye shadow, each with its own applicator and instructions. It’s genius. My guard lowers when I see that the eye shadow is brown, not the swimming-pool blue I remember from my youth in Texas.

Following the instructions on the sheets, I build three layers of color around my eyes, starting with light and adding on the dark tones. The other three women at my table are reading the instructions just as intently as I am. Feeling a little more confident, I streak the blush across my cheek and then blend, blend, blend, followed by a finger full of lipstick and a nice pucker. Not bad, I think, glancing in the mirror. My skin tone is even, and my eyes have depth and definition, but without looking like Liza Minnelli’s.

“Now,” Marti says, “I want everyone to turn to the person next to you and give them a compliment.”

The woman to my right is still looking at her reflection, and it’s easy to see why. She’s glowing. “Your skin looks so soft and smooth,” I say.

She smiles shyly. “Your eyes look really beautiful. They really stand out.” Touched, I say, “Aww, thank you!”

MY MARY KATE alter ego is developing. She’s bubbly, says things like “soap is a four-letter word,” and refers to wrinkles as “personality indicators.” She talks to
anyone who will listen about Mary Kay, trying to sign them up for a facial.

“The old you would hate the new you,” a friend dryly points out. She’s probably
right. The old me is still in there, knocking around, mortified by the red-hot dance and the idea of an in-depth discussion about the pros of lip gloss. But that me seems to be shrinking. With the makeup lessons, the professional attire, and my bevy of lotions, ointments, and salves, I actually start to feel prettier. I get compliments from my friends on my skin and how healthy I look. The topic of makeup begins entering my daily conversation, replacing the writer’s diet of politics and crime. I’m starting to morph into a girly girl stereotype—and I’m starting to like the transformation.

At first, the pleasure conflicts with my ingrained feminist paradigm. So I start sneaking the makeup past my own cerebral programming. If a touch of Pink Diamonds lip gloss and a dab of Hazelnut eye shadow makes me happy, is that so wrong? Pretty soon, my own way of thinking begins to change. I begin to see a feminist side to the company that I never expected. It teaches business skills and presents new and different opportunities to women. It allows women to work from home, earning money while raising their children. And the founder and role model was herself a single mother who built an enormous enterprise that in 2007 had $2.4 billion in wholesale sales. What’s more feminist than that? For my first month I commit to Marti that I will perform 30 facials in 30 days in order to jumpstart my business. I break out the cyber-Rolodex and flip open my phone. I’m more nervous about finding time for the appointments than I am about finding people to fill them. Mentally counting friends and family, and friends of family and family of friends, the first 30 will be cake. It’s the second and third 30 that make me bite my freshly manicured nails.

“Hi, Kim. So, I just joined Mary Kay and—“

“What? You?”

“— and I’ve been challenged by my director to do 30 facials in 30 days. Would you mind helping me out?”

Every day for a month I take my bag of tricks and my flipchart script to a different house and recite the spiel. And for 30 days every single person who puts those products on her face likes it. I like it, too. Because as they apply the TimeWise solutions and marvel at their soft skin we catch up on each another’s lives and gossip and we laugh. Even if the sessions are prompted by business, the visits are also personal, harkening back to the days before cell phones and e-mail when friends would actually spend time with each other.

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