From Armani to Cover Girl: The Ultimate Riches to Rags Story

I will start by saying that I never really had the money to justify buying Armani anything, let alone a $60 bottle of foundation.  Actually, I bought two at once, lured into the prospect of becoming dewy and flawless.  Oh, and I bought a ridiculously priced foundation brush (tools are VERY important) and a compact of pressed powder which was lost within a week.

What I DID have was store and other major cards with ridiculously high credit limits.  As a nice Jewish girl from Long Island, I was lured to the only Bloomingdale's in Massachusetts where I convinced myself that I was among my people when I walked through the automatic doors and into the world of top-of-the-line cosmetic and fragrance brands.  This was not Macy's or Sephora.  This was the real fucking deal.

I don't care about labels in other things--I have no need for an endless amount of  Louis Vuitton logos repeating on a bag (I kind of think they're hideous unless on turn-of-the century steamer trunks) and the only Coach bag I've ever owned was the most unlike Coach bag ever where most of the proceeds went to charity, not a logo in sight.  I understand that it's probably true that a $150 dollar pair of jeans is most-likely better quality than a $25 pair at Target, but I'd much rather spend my money on fabulous high-quality bedding than a $100 tee-shirt.

I grew up not wanting for much.  I was never materialistic like a lot of the girls who surrounded me.  I didn't feel peer-pressured into having diamond studs (usually secured as Bat Mitzvah gifts) or Candie's espadrilles. I was a bit too heavy to wear Sassoon or Jordache jeans, but I did balk a bit when I got rather cheesy imitation Frye boots, which I incidentally charged on my aforementioned Bloomingdale's charge card about 10 years ago when they had not yet made their comeback.  The $125 investment was well-worth it.

It is entirely possible that I am the only woman, who after reading a 15 (maybe 17?) page article in The New Yorker about the "nose" of Hermes who spent years replicating a certain smell along the Nile, who ran out and bought a bottle.  To this day, it is my one and only signature scent and I admit to enjoying adding the intellectual New Yorker part when I tell people what I'm wearing.  Because I haven't had the money to replace it ($90 a bottle) I pump the spray bottle to at least get the whiff of air that still has the scent.  I'm tempted to throw it against a wall so I can rub the glass shards on my pulse points.

I've closed store credit cards more times than I can count, but I know that I can walk to a counter, show my id, and within seconds, it is reopened again.  I have gone on "one last binge" before cutting up cards, which last time did indeed include a $125 pair of jeans (worth every penny).  My husband and I are still paying off the suit and shoes we charged for our wedding over two years ago.

I've talked about my new (forced) austerity in this blog before.  Long gone are the days where I walk into any store with reckless abandon.  I applauded myself when I recently bought a huge bottle of Suave shampoo (a pretty good Aveda imitation) for $1.84.  $1.84!!!!!!  The best tupperware-type things I've ever used I get at the dollar store.  I buy my underwear by the 5-pack at Target and get a three-pack of faux gold hoops for $7.99 until they turn black, and then replace them.

All this being said, I felt slightly ashamed when I found myself in the Cover Girl aisle at CVS ultimately purchasing an "age defying" concealer.  I have it in my bathroom with the label side down (not that my husband or daughter would understand the implications of what I consider to be rather rock-bottom).  I KNOW people will respond by saying that it's all the same, repackaged by one or two manufactures who pump it all out in giant factories, but, I still feel as if I want to climb back up and be able to buy a $20 of shampoo every once in a while.  I was HORRIFIED to discover that a faux-cashmere sweater I've been wearing all winter is from VALERIE BERTINELLI'S CLOTHING LINE.  OMG.  I have sunk so low...

Outsourcing Myself

My husband and I have found ourselves, due to all sorts of circumstances, in a daily panic-inducing financial crisis.  He makes a wonderful salary but almost 1/3 of it is being applied to child support (which of course he is more than willing to pay) and alimony (umm…not so much).   I have taken, because of my passion in my work, a 50% paycut from where I used to be in fairly cushy jobs.   I don’t regret that decision for a second.

We’re not unique in the living paycheck to paycheck way of life but we have often found ourselves in the somewhat scary challenge of living, for example,  on $25 for 4 days.  We pride ourselves on somehow being able to do that without ending up in the fetal position.   You’d be amazed at how delicious dollar store burritos are.

We look at things we can possibly sell for quick cash—outmoded cell phones for example—but looking around your home and trying to isolate things that might be of value is terribly depressing.

When I was laid-off from my last job and not yet employed by my current job (only 15-hrs a week), I was collecting unemployment and looking for work to supplement my weekly benefits check.  I networked a bit and have friends who stepped up to the plate for all sorts of things from writing website copy for her roofing company to personal ads.  I found three tutoring jobs through another site which has been sporadic, but ongoing.

In the past few years there have been a slew of websites, Task Rabbit, Task Mogul and even craigslist where one can “outsource” themselves.   You post your skills and talents,   find an approachable, photshopped picture and brag about yourself to no end.   Through a canned video interview you use big words while wearing a big smile.    After that you wait to see if you’re approved and deemed worthy of being on these sites. 

I have a friend who has an incredible and useful skill.  He used to work at IKEA and knows, without giving up and throwing the pieces of couches and cribs against a wall, how to assemble anything (it helps that he’s Swedish too).   People post their needs in areas such as this, and qualified people “bid” on the job.  You can see what other people think they have to offer and wait for the person to decide who they will hire. 

In my case, I vie for certain writing jobs.  I can’t clean a house to save my life (a very popular need), I don’t have the money to lay out when people need a personal shopper to pick up stuff at Target, so I stick to what I’m good at.  I was just hired for my very first “task” in response to a posting that said:  “Help With Heartfelt Writing for A Special Event, 2-3 minutes in length.”  I pounced on this, gushing about my experience writing presentations at all sorts of heartstring tugging non-profit events. 

You gush publicly where you see other people gushing in equally hyperbolic self-promoting language.  The poster revealed that the job was writing her wedding vows.  Within seconds I sent her a link to my OWN vows that I had posted on my personal blog two years ago.  It sealed the deal.

At first I found it odd that someone would ask a stranger to do this, but when we chatted I learned that she felt she couldn’t compete with her English Professor husband.  She is an incredibly lovely woman and I am honored that she is entrusting me to do this for her.  For $25.

Then there’s craigslist.   I start every day by looking at a section called “gigs” and what is posted under “writing.”  They range from the terribly absurd to the somewhat practical.  I get the sense that there are people who are up all night, hitting the refresh button, to be the first person to apply.  By the time I’m awake I’m sure that the posters have been inundated with e-mails from people who will accept a penny a word for daily thousand word blurbs on farming equipment or flooring.  When certain people are looking for writers with a sense of humor I will respond with subject lines like “I’m the funniest person I know!”   When others need someone who knows about shopping and retail, for example, I might say, “Noone loves retail more than I!”

I hate the sense of desperation in my responses.  I feel like it somehow cheapens me and my self-worth.  The truth is, though, is that I’m not unique in this current economy.  People are clamoring for those pennies a word and the $10 tasks that don’t even cover the cost of the gas involved.  I recently hired my first task rabbit to clean my bathrooms and kitchen to surprise my husband for his birthday.  We chatted a bit and she told me of the many tasks she has done for people like searching every Apple Store when the latest iphones came out, waiting in lines for hours, all for $100.  Me, I would have shot somebody if I had to do that.  For $40 she cleaned my toilets and my bathtub.  In her off hours, she plays violin in a symphony orchestra.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel for my husband and me.  It’s a nice light, and one that will alleviate all of this stress.  It’s many months away, but knowing its coming, that we won’t have to go through that contact list in our heads of who we can borrow money from or banks who might extend our credit lines, has made us look forward to the possibility of fulfilling dreams as simple as replacing our dvd player that has been broken for months to being able to buy a house.  We know it will happen and that we’ll look back and share stories with our grandkids, like our Depression-era grandparents did with us, on how you learn to make do with the things you have.  We’ll spew platitudes like “Thank God we had our health,” and “At least we had a roof over our heads.”  I absolutely know that we are lucky people and we are indeed grateful for everything we do have.  It’s a rough patch, but together, we will get through it.