Even though I was very young, I wanted to be urbane, sophisticated, sought after. Because I wasn’t a 9-year-old in a smiley face t-shirt, reading Cosmo in the basement. The real me was in a floor-length white gown, leaning on a mahogany desk in a mansion.
As soon as I’d saved up enough money from my stellar career as a babysitter—I took my hard-earned savings and bought myself Estée perfume. If I pass a bottle of it somewhere, it still smells like the me I wanted to be in 9thgrade. In reality, I was a 14-year-old girl with a double belt and bad hair. But underneath my Estée, I knew I was a misunderstood sophisticate. It was my idealized self-image, and Estée Lauder brought it to me.