I saw that she was wearing Chanel sunglasses and suddenly I was embarrassed by my $15 sunglasses that I impulsively purchased at a mall stand because my other cheap sunglasses broke. Rubbing my finger over the peeling rubber, I thought about buying designer sunglasses for myself.

I carry a blue purse that I got from a store in Berkeley. $20. I liked the color and many zippered pockets so Chris bought it for me. But would people notice the stitching? That it was uneven?

And then I saw someone else with a French manicure. It looked nice. Those nails with the nice tips pointing to the paper tacked to the wall. Care was taken, compared to my own hastily cut plain unbuffed nails. I wish I took advantage of the pushy salespeople at the Seacret mall kiosk.

There was a moment several years ago when my sister’s friend glanced at me—awkward, slightly unaware me. She mentioned a hair stylist, a nail salon, the designer clothing store in San Diego. At the time, I was desperate to be more than the student finishing the last year in undergrad—not knowing what the future would hold. Could the beauty treatments and the designer brands make me into the confident person with success and money? The one to be admired? Happiness?

A few weeks ago, a coworker jokingly said to me, “You’re nerdy. You’re probably the most nerdiest person I know.”

I still hate going to the salon, having someone determine who I will be. Last weekend, I had the opportunity to spend money on designer clothes and beauty treatments. Instead I bought a $35 Venetian masque, handmade in Italy. I spent nearly an hour at the table, carefully fingering the sparkling pieces and holding them to my face in front of a mirror.

“Does this look okay on me?” I asked with only lips visible under a green-blue masque with intricately carved gold.