She grabbed her bag and hit the pavement. She knew Oribe wasn't the kind of thing you just picked up at a corner drugstore; it was the "liquid gold" of the hair world, and she needed it now .
By 1:45 PM, Clara was in the restroom of the office building. She worked a tiny drop of the oil through her ends and gave her roots a targeted blast of the spray. The frizz vanished, replaced by a sophisticated, "I-definitely-have-my-life-together" shine. where can i buy oribe
"Try or Bergdorf Goodman ," the stylist suggested. "Or, if you’re near a Bluemercury , they usually stay well-stocked." She grabbed her bag and hit the pavement
The humidity in the city was relentless, turning Clara’s carefully styled waves into a tragic, frizzy halo the moment she stepped out of her apartment. She had an interview at 2:00 PM—the kind that could change her life—and her hair was currently staging a mutiny. She worked a tiny drop of the oil
"I need the Gold Lust," she whispered to her reflection. "I need Oribe."