June arrived with heat, humidity, and the faint hope that my IPSY bag might bring me a little joy. Instead, it delivered a full‑scale beauty betrayal. This month’s curation wasn’t just off; it felt like IPSY spun a wheel labeled “Chaos,” “Disregard,” and “Pink Lip Products She Will Hate,” and then proudly mailed me the results.
The no‑choice items alone were enough to make me sigh into the middle distance. First, they sent me a TYS Beauty Lip Butter in Passionfruit—a sheer vibrant pink, the exact kind of shade I consistently rate low and never request. Do you know what I look like in vibrant pink? A woman in her 50s with stupidly bright lips. This would have been annoying on any month, but this was the month they were offering Tower 28 lip products, which makes the choice feel almost spiteful.
Then, as if to double down, they sent a brow gel right after I literally got a brow tint last month. IPSY, my beloved nemesis, if you had looked at my recent products for even five seconds, you would have known I did not need another brow product. You keep a LIST of recent products. Use it.
The choice items didn’t improve things. The first selection forced me to choose between the Dieux Air Angel Peptide Gel Cream and the Glow Recipe Watermelon Dew Drops—two excellent products that should never have been pitted against each other. It felt like choosing between two kittens. I picked Dieux, but I resented having to choose at all.
Then came the true betrayal: the second choice group. IPSY lumped together the Rare Beauty blush, the Rodial drops, the Tower 28 Lip Jelly, and the Tower 28 LipSoftie. All in one group. This wasn’t a choice; it was psychological warfare. I knew they would put both Tower 28s together, but I didn’t expect them to also throw Rare Beauty into the same pit like a sacrificial lamb. My soul left my body. I ended up choosing the LipSoftie because my lips are a desert wasteland in summer and because I was already being punished with that Passionfruit Lip Butter. I wanted that blush too. I was looking forward to having that blush.
By the time I reached the final choice group, I was too tired to be angry. My options were a Dew of the Gods cleanser, the Moonslice 1980s drag‑queen palette I refuse to let haunt my home, or face masks. FACE MASKS! REALLY? Really. I chose the cleanser because it was the only item that didn’t feel like a dare. At that point, I was simply trying to survive the experience.
And then, as the final insult, I tried to contact customer service. I normally do not do this. As a middle-aged woman, one is always very hesitant to contact customer services as to not appear a Karen. Ironically, the only ones who don't worry about this are the True Karens.
Once upon a time, IPSY had a simple “Contact Support” button.
Now they have GlamBot—a sparkly pink AI creature with long fake eyelashes who guards the gates like a glitter‑covered Cerberus. You ask for help, and GlamBot smiles, blinks slowly, and offers irrelevant articles. Then asks you for information that should be already accessed as you're doing this from your profile that you are logged into.
Eventually, after enough pleading, it tells you to “submit a ticket,” which is the modern equivalent of tossing a message in a bottle into the ocean. There is no email. There is no direct contact. There is only the Ticket Portal of Mild Desperation. I ended up sending my complaint to both Instagram and Facebook because IPSY has made contacting them a side quest.
So that was June IPSY: poorly curated, profile‑ignorant, choice‑group chaotic, and wrapped in a customer service maze guarded by a sparkly robot. I am tired. I am moisturized (thanks, Dieux). I am lip‑buttered against my will. And I sincerely hope July is kinder.
Though at this point, I'm considering just quitting completely.
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