I was in your Seattle Westlake store last week where I had probably the worst retail shopping experience in my entire life. I thought you might want to know.
Of special note, a hard sell coming from a teenage mouth with braces is gross.
I came in around 1PM on a Saturday, there were seven or so teenagers working the 8X10 space (yes, it’s essentially a prison cell). Once I was actually in the store, all I could think about it was leaving—but I couldn’t leave, a girl covered in glittered quickly cornered me and she just happened to be holding a bomb. Sure it was a bath bomb, but whatever…luckily, another girl stepped in to lather my arm with some gooey crap that I wasn’t interested in, but the goo was gooey enough to let me slip away toward the soap, what I came for. Just as I leaned in for a sweet whiff of honeysuckle, my hands were shoved into a basin to go—being washed by a mini-Miley Cyrus. I glanced out the window for help, my eyes begging, but who would really believe someone now getting a manicure really needs help!? My purse started to feel heavy, but wait, it wasn’t my purse, it was actually a basket full of crap some creepy kid put on my arm. And it was full of stuff that smelled like patchouli. I kinda wanted to die, but it wasn’t really an option, unless of course the permeating smell of too many mixed bouquets induces a slow suicide…if only blow holes were mobile—that’s the kinda stuff you start thinking about in situations like these, crazy stuff.
I pointed to some random product in the corner—it was like flashing a shiny object in front of a baby, Miley was immediately distracted and I was able to drop down and army crawl toward the register where I just missed a huge blob of self-tanner being thrust into my face. “Look at this,” said the campy cashier. “One of my legs is tan, and the other isn’t, so you can see how great it looks. Doesn’t it look awesome?” I told her it actually looked kinda like !@#%$. And then, the red sea parted—funny that a frown can come in handy now and again; sad that now and again you’re forced to use it.
In a word the LUSH experience, your experience, was schizophrenic. If that’s your strategy, please do carry on. And if it’s not, give me a call. I can help you with that. Please let me.
Most sincerely, Sarah