Sea Salt Zombies
E: M. Do you have a House of Fraser in Edinburgh? I bet you do, full of tartan and shortbread and stuff.
M: Yeah, I never go in there. It’s depressing. It’s like 5 levels of Oasis and a decrepit Dior counter.
E: Well here’s another reason not to go in. The DEAD SEA SALT SCRUB ZOMBIES.
M: Who are these zombies and what do they want?
E: They hang around department stores and try to lure you into their special “makeover” corner. If you happen to be loitering anywhere in the beauty hall, they see you and pounce:
“Hello madam, can I ask you a question?”
“Do you moisturise your skin?”
I AM IN A BEAUTY HALL; WHAT DO YOU THINK????
M: Also, don’t call me Madam. I am not 65.
E: They are all Eastern European. I think they ship them in from Bratislava specially for their salt selling mad skillz. Maybe everyone gets called Madam in Bratislava.
“Can I offer you a miniature spa treatment?” they say.
M: Is that like a treatment in a tiny spa? Or do they just file your one little toe?
E: Neither. It means they drag you to a dark corner of the beauty hall where they have 1. A jug of water. 2. A bowl. 3. Some salt scrub
M: Are they planning on roasting you? To make some E skin crackling?
E: Well. That is quite possible. No-one knows for sure what their end game is. But they are commission hungry, so SO hungry.”Just put this tiny dollop of special dead sea salt on your hand” they say.
M: Is there a suspicious jar of rosemary and olive oil underneath the counter?
E: Cloves of garlic. BBQ sauce. Tongs.
M: So, did you let them touch you? Because you are probably a zombie too now. FACT.
E: I did. I thought it would be useful in the name of research. Basically, you massage the salt scrub into your hand. Svetlana pours water over your hand. Your hand is smooth. You fall over in amazement. Then you are supposed to pay 25 quid for a jar of salt.
M: Right. Can’t you just, you know, get some nice Maldon or something?
E: This is special.
“Is Dead Sea Salt. You know Dead Sea madam?”
“Yes. That is where dead people hang out. Zombies and the like”.
“One jar lasts 8 months, madam”
M: Ha, lasts 5 gazillion years, more like. The jar of salt will still be there when our civilization is exctinct.
E: Yes. The jar of salt is our gift to the future. Anyway. I am ashamed to say, M, that I bought some. Poor Svetlana looked so HUNGRY. And I had gone in to buy my trusty Origins scrub anyway.
M: God, you are such a pussy. But I bet your legs will be delicious with a bit of salsa verde on the side.
E: Yeah. I’m now a zombie pussy but I do have a jar of salt that will outlive you. So there.
Sea Spa Skincare Salt Scrub (try saying that after a small gin): £29.95
