Bearing Gifts....BLOGMAS DAY 18&19

I think I remember, very faintly, our teacher back at college giving some kind of lecture about accepting gifts as a journalist. However, I can't seem to recall the conclusion that she drew - was it never or always to take whatever you were offered? Too bad I don't remember, but the obliviousness sure comes in handy at the office at the moment.

See, the magazine I've been interning at for the past four months is relocating, and I'm changing positions for the remaining two months of my time here in Hamburg. The point is, the office is being completely cleaned out and it's been like an ongoing sample sale in there for days now.

First, there were beauty products. The conference table was bending under the weight of carefully sorted jars and bottles and containers. Never in my life have I seen such a wide range of self-tanner. I mean, there was so much other stuff as well, but the self-tanner left a random impression on me. The air hung heavy with a concentrated silence as everyone slowly moved around the table, scanning the supply and constantly ready to reach out for their pick at any given moment, like lion mothers protecting their children. I heard a rumour that all the good stuff was pocketed by the beauty editors themselves, but we won't judge. I managed to get a beautiful Dior lip colour that matched my birthday dress - among about a dozen other stains and sticks. I guess I won't have to go on any lip product shopping sprees anytime soon. Oh and I have three different peelings from a range of brands now; eat that, airport clerk.

Then, there were nicknacks. The rule is as follows: Everything moveable you find and don't like for yourself is put into the kitchen, and from then on it's fair game. I feel a bit like a thief everytime I go in there to slyly check the new arrivals, trying not too look to interested while casually lifting things and putting them back down as if weighing them. Picking them up again and leaving, as if to say "Oh that's still in my hand? Well, might as well take it". I scored a cute little dancing bag this way (crossbody, but chic enough not to be unflattering to your party dress, and small enough not to give you a hematoma while dancing). Missed out on a bright pink laptop case that was so girly it was almost cool again though. But I really can't complain.

Some clothes, too. Not the new ones, of course, but there was a bunch of stuff left in the sample closet that we couldn't figure out where to send and as us interns are the ones doing all the sending, it was our prerogative to pick whatever we deemed nice enough to keep. Mostly yoga wear and one pretty shift dress, but the prospect of getting something for free made me consider bagging a pair of grey Italian trousers four sizes too big for me ("I could alter them" - as if I ever successfully altered something other than taking in the waistband of a cotton skirt). I'm weak that way.

And finally, the books. Oh, the books. When I found out by coincidence that there was a whole table of books that could just be taken away, I thought I was dreaming. But now, everything must go, and I found out that if no one takes them, they'll be - oh horror - put away, which seems to be a euphemism for "cruelly trashed in one of these big silver containers disappearing everyday", so I have made it my mission to a) show everyone the table and have them look around and b) carry as many faintly interesting sounding volumes as I can without knocking someone over out of there everyday.

I still have to constantly remind myself that I am not robbing a bookstore but that it is indeed completely legal for me to just bring home whatever I fancy, but that's the beauty of it, too.

Love,

Rosy Smith