Ode to Cold Cream

A pharmacy in Italy. That’s where I spotted a jar of something called “skin cleansing balm.” I’m a sucker for potions, lotions and unguents — especially in foreign countries. So of course, I bought it. It even came with a cunning little cloth.

I used it on my face, carefully following the instructions to rub in circular motions, then remove with the special cloth. My skin hadn’t felt this good since…

Wait! Wasn’t this just cold cream?

That’s right. My skin hadn’t felt better since I was regularly cleansing with cold cream. My mother taught me how. The instructions on the Italian skin balm could have been written by my mom in 1982.

Same kinda thing happened the time I was appreciating the fit of my pants over Spanx and suddenly thought, “Am I actually wearing a girdle?” Yes, I was. Albeit one with a marginally kinky name.

And let’s not forget a Silicon Valley company that accidentally reinvented the city bus.