THE STORY BEGINS
"If it were up to me she would never be seen on stage" her mother muffled to the agent. "She has a beautiful voice, but how I pity her looks."
The girl looked out the window. The cars on the city's streets looked like waves in the sea. Trudging forward towards their destination, halting unexpectedly before rushing by again. She sighed. Too loudly. Her mother turned to her expectantly "Well? Do you have something to say?"
"No, mother". She learned a long time ago it was best to keep her mouth closed, unless it was to sing.
"Let us hear it then," said the man sitting behind a mahogany desk. The girl turned to her mother, unsure, before beginning a most somber note. Trembling at first, her singing brought such melancholy, such nostalgia. It was beautiful. She wasn't afraid to use her soprano voice, she didn't care to galvanize those around her. It was her moment. The only time her confidence overcame her natural shyness. The man was dumbfounded, amazed by the sound coming from this girl's mouth. It was quite unexpected. She had come in so quietly, while her mother filled up the room. She hadn't spoken a word, whereas her mother asserted herself brazenly.
"She's quite the star, is she not?" commented the mother as her daughter slipped away in the background. "Yes quite," was all the man could reply.
Years have passed since this interaction had taken place. And now here she was, in front of her dressing room mirror, getting ready for her solo. This memory always came back right before a big performance. It was her way of reminding herself how far she had gotten. So timid, so reserved and now she was about to sing in front of a thousand people. She looked at her hands, they weren't shaking as they used to. She looked around, so many cosmetics at her disposal yet she only had eyes for one brand. One name. So close to her heart, so close to her life. She even remembered the first day hearing the title. It was like a calling, she knew she had to have it. Seeing all the colors and toners offered, none other could compare to how they made her look, how they made her feel. She thanks this product every time she puts on a speck of cream foundation, a dash of Blanchissante, a drop of body lotion. . . they've offered her so much already. She couldn't have overcome her diffident fear of flashing lights and cameras. She couldn't have surmounted her reticent anxiety of singing in front of spectators. Most of all, she had always dreaded people's reaction to her face's skin condition. Born this way, she had grown accustomed to their grimaces and her mother's scowls. As she progressed in her chosen career path, the frowns became fowler and more evident. She had tried so many products before, too many chemicals, too many bottles yet finally she has met her match. And now, she has no fear of the stage, even her mother smiled as she walks in the room. She's no longer ashamed but radiates with light. She loves the crowd and they love her. She does not have to wither away nor have a shadow casted upon her. She is the light. She is the sun.
Even after decades have faded away, even after all the applause, she still does not shy away. She maintains the spot light, never in vain. Since she does not need to worry for her wrinkles nor her aging spots: they are all taken care of by her loyal companion: L' OPÉRA COSMETICS. Her heart still jumps at the sound of the name.
