The Queen, Lush & I

Now Playing: Placebo - For What It's Worth

95% of the time, I'm hella risk-averse. I know the flavours of ice cream I like - mango in summer, chocolate in winter - and I stick with them; when I went skiing, it wasn't so much skiing as much as it was a slow, agonizing sort of inching down a bunny slope/piste verte; recently I went shopping for leggings and thought myself daring for buying them in red.

The other 5% of the time though, I'm the Queen of Whimsy. I'm not sure what brings these fits of impulsiveness on, but they do seem to be learning experiences. For example, thanks to my alternate persona, I've learnt that honey-flavoured icecream is surprisingly rubbish, as is chartreuse, empire waists are evil as are skinny jeans, and tall girls are allowed to wear heels and look good in them too.

Nevertheless, I'm wary of the Queen. "COME ON," she says, "YOU'LL LIKE IT! PUCE* IS TOTALLY YOUR COLOUR." I believe her, being a sheep, and pain and cracked mirrors is the result. This is generally why I try not to shop by myself - I need other people with me to say, "Seriously, puce? No."

Sadly, other people are not slaves to retail as I am, and so sometimes I do find myself alone in a mall, with no defences against my own impulsiveness. When this happens, as it did last week, I shuffle quickly along, eyes down, hoping not to see something in a window that the Queen will like. Since the queen is an omnivorous compulsive hoarder, this is difficult to manage. "SALE ON MEN'S TIES? WHAT IF YOU STARTED WEARING TIES?" For Christ's sake, I thought, and dragged myself away into another corridor. "MEXX! WE LIKE MEXX!" the creature yelled. Boxing Day Sales! I yelled back and fought on. "LUSH! IT'S HANDMADE!" It screamed, maddened. No, we like Body Shop, I thought, or Fruits and Passion at a pinch. "BUT IT SMELLS SO GOOD!" It did smell good. "GO ON. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BUY ANYTHING." I always fall for that one - this time was no exception.

Now, Lush does smell fabulous - it's one of those stores where you want to pick up everything and smell it - but the problem is that it's overpriced. I bought a bar of soap and a tub of shampoo and the bill came to $30. My inner puritan is still weeping over it. My inner hedonist, on the other hand, loves the soap. It's called Sexy Peel, and it is just sensationally citrus-y, more grapefruit than orange, and it smells so good you will have trouble leaving the shower.

The shampoo, on the other hand, is a bit problematic. Like the soap, it smells great, coconut with a fruit undertone, which works great for me because as a Malayalee, I have a mystic affinity for coconuts. Total Trufax! Proof: My Mum, who has no sweet tooth to speak of and is a wee little thing, will hurt you if you stand between her and a Bounty Bar. Ah, the coconut, it calls to us, it is bred in the bone, it is applied on the hair, it is used in our food... but I digress. Curly Wurly shampoo, however, has actual coconut flakes in it, which is just a tad much, because the flakes are the devil to rinse out of curly hair, and you know what coconut flakes look like in curly hair? Huge flecks of dandruff. It's a shame because my hair smells fabulous and curls better, but I hate to run the risk of leaving the house with bits of coconut on my head; I might pour extracted coconut oil by the bucketful on my hair, but I draw the line at actual bits of fruit. Next time I go to Lush, I'm sticking to the soaps. No matter what the Queen says. I hope.

*Example provided for illustrative purposes; I am proud to say I own nothing in puce - yet.