The Jar That Made Me Believe in Magic (And Also Cry a Little)

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Let me tell you about the most expensive face cream I've ever touched—and how it became my secret pandemic rebellion.

It arrived on a Tuesday, this heavy glass jar with gold lettering that looked like it belonged on a French aristocrat's vanity. Sisleÿa L'Intégral Anti-Âge La Cure. The name alone required three attempts to pronounce correctly. At $1,420, it cost more than my first car (a 1998 Honda Civic with questionable brakes).

Week 1: The Guilt Phase

I hid it behind my $12 drugstore moisturizer when my partner walked by. "What's that?" he asked, eyeing the suspiciously elegant packaging. "Uh... a candle?" I lied, suddenly understanding how people explain Rolex purchases to their accountants.

The first application felt like spreading liquid gold over my stress-induced forehead crease. The scent—like a Parisian garden after rain—made my cheap apartment smell expensive for five whole minutes.

Week 3: The Delusion Sets In

I started taking mirror selfies unironically. Was my jawline...snappier? Were my pores...French now? My Zoom coworkers asked if I'd gotten a filter. I considered sending Sisley-Paris a thank you note written in calligraphy.

Then I caught myself doing something terrifying: gently scraping the last bits from the jar with a spatula like some sort of skincare goblin.

The Cold Hard Truth

Here's what no beauty editor will admit—this cream didn't erase my wrinkles. But it did something better: for six weeks, I treated myself like someone who deserved to rub $1,420 cream on her face. I massaged it in slowly instead of rushing. I drank more water just to feel "worth it."

The real magic wasn't in the jar—it was in the ritual of choosing myself, if only for the two minutes it took to apply it. Would I buy it again? Probably not. Do I still eye the empty jar like an ex I can't forget? Mon dieu, yes.

The Lesson  

Sometimes luxury isn't about the results—it's about the permission slip it gives you to feel precious in a world that tells women to fade quietly. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go stare wistfully at my credit card statement.

P.S. They do make a travel size for $385 if you want to dip a toe in the bougie water.

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