Days of sun, days of writing on the beach. Days of getting pissed off with everyday things. Let’s see. Manufacturers enjoy testing our patience. That is the only explanation for how the more slippery the contents of a cosmetic product the more complicated they make the cap. Sometimes people stop me on the street to compliment me on my tan. I smile and try not to arouse suspicion. I don’t want them to know the real reason: that I haven’t managed to open the sunscreen yet.
The sun lotion industry is divided into two main groups: the ones with unopenable bottles and those with unsealable bottles. Both make our lives livelier, either on the beach or inside our suitcases. That all too familiar feeling of sticky luggage with a strange smell of aloe vera, only comparable to that other feeling of seeing how half a fingernail is ends up in the middle of the sand and subsequently in a neighboring towel as a result of another failed attempt to remove the security seal. The cosmetics industry definitely knows how to make us happy. It just doesn’t want to. (READ MORE from Itxu Díaz: A Guide to Getting Drunk in Style)
Let’s be clear once and for all: If aloe vera is really good for everything and anything else in the world is bad for everything, as I have learned from watching commercials on TV, I don’t know why we waste our time buying so many varied products in the supermarket. I came to this conclusion a long time ago. I have now planted aloe vera all over the house. When I want to feed myself safely, I eat aloe vera salad; when I need to soothe an itch, I rub aloe vera on it — watch out for the prickles; and when I feel like sunbathing without getting sunburned, I stand in the shade of a large aloe vera plant.
Each “new formula” of a cosmetic product includes — or consists of — a redesign of its packaging, its external appearance. And, therefore, a new cap. I imagine that there are a thousand Chinese workers laughing their heads off in some lost factory on the other side of the world, designing caps that are impossible for normal people to open. I am sure they are manufactured by the CCP. I can imagine the theorists on the matter at a work meeting: “That will make them value the product more.” I have even seen false-nail makers going into the highest office of a multinational cosmetics company saying, “We could have a joint venture!”
When applying any sunscreen, the local customs must be taken into account. In general, it is awkward to ask a stranger to help you apply sunscreen to your back, and the responses can be offensive and frustrating. About 90 percent of people who try it get “no” for an answer and burn their backs. The remaining 10 percent are Bella Hadid, Scarlett Johansson, and Taylor Swift.
For strange reasons, consumers throw themselves passionately into products that claim 24-hour protection or efficacy. I’ve seen some that even promised 48 hours, but I think you have to download an app and make extra payments inside. Anyway, deodorant, after-sun, and all kinds of ointments now promise long duration and maximum resistance to the elements, among which mainly are included water, and implicitly beer. All are questions when it comes to understanding the benefits of this persistence on the skin. And I guess somewhere in there are the answers. For the moment, all this means is that when you come back from the beach, to remove your sunscreen, you’ll have to use a cotton swab soaked in acetone, some sandpaper, and a blowtorch.
The purpose of this upward indentation is to make the stopper rise above the bottle and produce the miracle of opening. Because of its extraordinary effectiveness, most manufacturers have banished it from the market. I am sure that somewhere in the world, there is a group of politicians sitting around a round table considering banning the screw cap because it is “too easy to open.”
Among the most extraordinary devices that the capping industry has invented is the so-called anti-drip cap. It is now a triumph among all sunscreens, but the truth is that its origin was in the urgency to put an end to the ketchup drips that all clumsy people carried around upon on their shirts when they left hamburger restaurants. Once the ketchup stopped dripping, it was easy to stop the typical summer lotions from dripping. However, I have not been affected by the change, except for the price increase of the product, because many years ago I found my own anti-drip technique: keep the jar upright with the opening upward. Quite a find that perhaps I should have registered as “ecological and sustainable anti-drip solution.” Especially sustainable, because if you don’t hold it right, it drips.
Many products now come in a spray version. This adds new incendiary components to the lotion, which increases the risk of explosion or death by self-combustion in bathers heading for very hot destinations. The advantage of the spray is that it is very convenient to apply. The disadvantage is that it has an extra security seal. This is made of plastic and, as the name suggests, is impossible to remove without the help of a plastic surgeon.
The difference between the top and the stopper is that the former can be opened and the latter cannot be closed.
The purpose of applying a cream to the skin is often to apply cream to the skin. If during the process wind and sand have risen, it is possible that the situation may be distorted, and you will have to be aware of your new status: You may have become a croquette without knowing. For what may happen, stay away from the beach bar; there are always very hungry people.
You always have to look for a culprit. In this case, his name is Johann Wilhelm Ritter and he discovered ultraviolet rays in 1801. Until then, the sun did not burn, skin was not damaged, nobody used to apply greasy creams, and, of course, nobody thought of opening earplugs on the beach.
Translated by Joel Dalmau.
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