Makeup. Makeup everywhere. Makeup on the counter. Makeup in makeup bags, stacked and hanging from the towel rack.

Did I mention that this is my husband’s sink? My sink is surrounded by face wash, deodorant and hair crap.

My makeup collection had outgrown the bags and had spilled onto the counter, even after “the purge”. Even though he rarely complained about the fine layer of powders and streaks of eye shadow in his sink, I was much more vocal about the prospect of beard hairs sprinkled all over my stuff. My stuff that was technically in his area…

Last Sunday was a monster trip to Target to take advantage of an additional 5% off coupon that I had been awarded via my son’s frequent and varied prescriptions. (I guess I can thank Impetigo for my coupon?) I decided on a plain white armoire and a cadre of wire mesh baskets, drawers and bins.

The bottom shelf has two large bins. One holds foundations, BB Creams and Primers; the other has powders and blush.

The middle shelf has a compartmented basket, with lip and eye stuff in the front and all of my shadow palettes in the back.

The top shelf is my favorite. I have random stuff in the drawers, like individual eye shadows and sharpeners. The reason that it’s my favorite part is that I get to display my mother’s jar. She used to keep eyeliner and brushes in this jar and so do I. It’s a milky white glass cold cream jar – you just don’t see those anymore. The jar has ELCAYA in relief on the side and ELCAYA NEW YORK on the bottom. Google told me that Elcaya Creme was a fancy cold cream sold in the 1910s and 1920s. It was $4, which is like $50 in today’s dollars.

Every day, I think of a question that I wish I could ask my mother. Today, I wish I could ask her the story of this jar. It couldn’t have been used by her or even her mother. If I had to guess, I’d say that she picked it up at a flea market. Most weekends, we would go flea marketing, looking for furniture to refinish. I never thought about why until now. The “cynical me” says that it was because we were poor. The “whimsical me” says it was because my mother preferred things with a history. The “realistic me” says that it was because of “blue laws” and flea markets were the only place really open on Sundays back then. It’s probably a combination of the three…

It’s not fancy or anything, but it works. My husband gets his side of the sink back…kinda. I still do my makeup on his side, I just put my stuff up after I use it. Everybody wins!