All I need is my Clarisonic Brush!
I’m jet-setting back home to NYC tomorrow and I haven’t even started to think about packing. My flight leaves at 6:00am and I’m planning to minimize my wait time by only bringing a carry-on.
But today, when someone asked me what I was bringing home to the big apple, I panicked. I had an instant vision of my full closet, the cashmere sweaters, the vintage Vuitton, the twelve pairs of shoes I planned on stomping down fifth avenue in. My mind was a flurry, mentally shoving denim and dresses and boots into that little black bag. I began matching outfits in my head, mathematically pairing item with item, slimming down my repertoire piece by piece. That’s it, I was officially overwhelmed! So I blurted out the one thing I was sure of, a beacon of light clinging to my subconscious, the only truth in a series of false hopes:
“My Clarisonic Brush!”
If she had asked me why, I was already armed: I’d rather be caught strolling through Soho wearing potato sacks than have a day of dull, uneven skin. If I forget anything else, I’ll survive. It’s the one thing I simply can’t live without.
But no, she didn’t ask why. She didn’t ask, because she didn’t have to. She knew exactly what I was talking about.
What’s the one thing you can’t live without?