It started with a tweet.
‘GLOSSIER are doing 50% off everything with code ‘friendsofglossier’. Are you seeing these savings?!’
The news spread like wildfire. Retweets. Fresh tweets. Screenshots of orders. Slack messages popped up to ask for recommendations, to make sure we’d all seen the deal. Whatsapp group chats were soon filled with discussions of BoyBrow (worth it) and Pro Tip (I’m not a fan).
The excitement is understandable.
After all, 50% is a massive discount, one that’s especially exciting when you remember that the hyped beauty brand usually only does one sale a year, at a more reserved 20% off.
But this specific moment in our shared history made the glee reach extraordinary levels.
We’re tired. We’re lonely. We’re sad.
We’ve already been using online shopping to fill all sorts of emotional voids in lockdown, and to be granted a valid reason to do a big buy is a blessing.
The element of forbidden fruit and the addition of time pressure - this is a mistake, Glossier will realise soon and snatch it away, we’re not supposed to be doing this - upped the ante and made clicking the ‘add to bag’ button feel like an illicit high.
It was a rush. The adrenaline coursed through our lockdown-lazied bodies. After the high we emerged delirious and dazed, struggling to return to our usual days.
But it’s not just about the shopping itself, but the chatter around it. Perhaps what we need more than discounted Cloud Paint is connection.1
The closure of clubs and pubs has made the beautiful bonding moments of the girls’ bathrooms on a night out a distant, mourned memory. Some of us haven’t hugged our pals in a year. We missed out on the collective watch and live-tweet of Love Island in 2020.
We are ravenous for those moments of shared joy, of being united, for once, not by rage against the discourse but something that makes us genuinely happy.
For beauty lovers, this was our clap for carers - that thing we were all involved in, that moment of unity, that encapsulation of culture (and, bonus, one that wasn’t grossly offensive to NHS staff who need a payrise, not just applause).
Would the discount code have been as hyped were we not in lockdown? It probably still would have been pretty popular, sure. But I can’t imagine the same warm dissolving of usual walls, the reaching out from coworkers, old friends, casual acquaintances.
This was something special, something to add a sheer shimmer to last stretch of drudgery.
Was it a genuine glitch? Or an incredibly savvy marketing technique (which clearly paid off)?
By 12.15, just an hour and a bit after the first tweet, reports of the code coming up as ‘expired’ began to emerge. Some haven’t received confirmation emails for their orders, prompting worry that their haul may not have been allowed to sail on through.
I contacted Glossier’s press tream for comment, and they responded: ‘Earlier today, we learned that a 50% off discount code had leaked and was being widely circulated on social media (along with some very clever memes). We didn’t mean for that to happen, and it caused quite the frenzy for our team, with our newly launched Beauty Bag even going out of stock in the UK and EU. The code has since been deactivated, and we’ll be honoring the orders that were successfully placed with the discount. We hope everyone enjoys their Glossier!’
Do we believe them? I’m not sure.
But for one brief hour, we forgot about the stresses of the world, the boredom and despair of lockdown. We bonded. We reached out across the void.
For that, we can always be grateful, even if we regret not adding another Lidstar to our baskets in time.
Maybe the real discount code… was the friendsofglossier we made along the way.
Reading recs:
We need both, actually. I am very glad I ordered an excessive number of Glossier goods.