The death of a good beauty sale

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 to being the keyword, a phrase so noncommittal and vague it could mean anything from a respectable discount to a price barely lower than a delivery fee.

Some foolish part of me still believes. Perhaps this sale will prove me wrong. The one where I stumble upon a deal so generous, so serendipitous, it will feel borderline illegal. Instead, I scroll past full-priced bestsellers plastered across sale banners, past ‘exclusive’ offers that exclude me for not meeting an arbitrary cart value, and straight into the cold reality of what’s actually been marked down.

The art of selling what nobody wants

It’s a truth I feel we can now universally acknowledge that the only makeup products to be found in the trending beauty sale meaningfully discounted are the ones nobody really wanted in the first place. The lonely shades. The exiled palettes. The lipsticks that, if they were a person, would be described as “bold” in a way that suggests concern rather than admiration.

And yet, sale after sale, I talk myself into optimism. Maybe—just maybe—this tangerine lipstick will be my shade. Maybe this radioactive blush will look sculptural rather than cause of medical concern. Am I the problem? Is it the lighting? Do I simply need to believe harder? The answer, usually, is no.

The great psychological heist

Even when a sale seems promising, there’s always a catch. There’s the ‘spend more to save more ploy’, in which I’m told that the key to financial responsibility is, in fact, reckless abandon. ‘Unlock an extra 5% off when you spend ₹5,000!’