A love letter to 'service in beauty'

Beauty expert Tracey Woodward fondly recalls her beginnings in the industry, starting with her very first job behind a Clinique counter...

1985

I attended an open day in the January of 1985, the ad in The Evening News paper invited women to attend an open day at the Westbury Hotel Mayfair to become a Clinique Consultant. My opportunity had arrived to realise my dream of working on the counters in London department stores. We had a few hours to get there as the interviews were taking place that evening.

After rocking up and being reviewed in the queue, as I waited patiently, nervously smiling at anyone that looked my way, remembering my mum's words: "You've got to look like you belong'. I was standing there in a size three pair of slingback shoes (I'm a size six), a borrowed dress, when I was told I’d made it to the next room. Not everyone made it to that space. It was were the interviews took place and I remember being interviewed by a lady that had this amazing citrus coral lipstick. Her name was Shelley Smthye. She looked glamorous in her Clinique uniform and I was shaking as it was the first formal interview I ever had.

After the interview, I was told that I would hear back via a letter and to keep an eye out for it. I remember saying to Shelley, "don't worry - I live alone in a council flat and I am going to buy it one day. I just need to get the right job first". She smiled kindly at me. I'll never know if it was that cheeky comment that got me the role, or if my mum's advice had worked. Look like you belong.

You see, I used to shoplift with my mum professionally, and I was almost illiterate until I was 15. I always used to say to her, "this is not my life, it's yours. One day I'm going to work on the counters and get my life sorted and be respectable, like all those ladies in the shops".  To which she would mockingly say, "if you think you can, you will, so you better get your arse into gear". I would retort with "you just watch me".

I waited so patiently for that letter to arrive - and six days later, it did. It offered me a role at Debenhams of Croydon, pending store approval. So, off I trotted to be approved by Debenhams Croydon. I was to be interviewed by the Department Manager and the Lancôme consultant, Helen Thorowgood - who went on to become one of my very best friends (and still is to this day). They gave me the store approval slip.

I fed that back to Clinique Grosvenor Street and I was booked onto a training course the very next week - heading to the education centre at 55 Grosvenor Street for a week of intensive learning that would finish with a haircut at Stephen Way's salon on Bond Street. I had hardly been in a classroom environment - it was alien to me, but I loved it. I had a brilliant teacher (Lynn), who taught me so much about skin. We role-played as a group - at least 30 women, all with big dreams. We saw it as a great honour to work for The Estée Lauder Companies.

I left the training on the Friday with my bouncy new hairstyle and a certificate to follow in the post. We all had the confidence to analyse the skin on the Clinique computer and the how to apply at least 20 products in just one makeup session. I was great at it as I'd often watched my mum apply makeup. I also learned the importance of multiple unit sales, how to make conversion with customers, how to ask open and closed questions, and the value of following up - by phone or by post. The customer always comes first, we had to make them feel good.

My rate was £3.50 per hour, plus commission. I'd take the 68 bus from West Norwood to Croydon, with a book or a Walkman. I worked Tuesday to Saturday, with a late night on Thursday every single week. I so wanted to be just like Alexis Colby from Dynasty - to build an empire, and this was my starting point: an honest days work. Perhaps I could take a job with Elizabeth Arden next; their uniform had been designed by Karl Lagerfeld and I loved his fragrances - my top three were Largerfeld, Halston and Chanel No5. However, I was loyal to Clinique. Aromatics Elixir was my everyday scent and I used all of Clinique's skincare. I was hooked, and I was determined to make the customers want it too.

My goal was to analyse at least five ladies' skin on the computer every single day and perform one to two makeovers. It was expected, and I was up for the challenge - I most definitely went for it, smiling at everyone, making eye contact, cleaning the counter until it sparkled under those bright lights, and even standing outside my counter spraying anyone that would stop. The rest of the ladies used to tell me off because the whole department smelled of Aromatics Elixir. We often had to call the cleaner to mop the floor after I had been out spraying.

This was my opportunity to learn how life was really lived. I would never have been able to afford to spend the money my customers spent on products. The most affordable product was around £6 for an eye, lip or brow pencil. The super hard-milled soap was £9 but lasted for 3-4 months if used every day and night. And I can tell you more than one way to use Clarifying Lotion No. 2.

I loved it and learned so much about my clients. I had always been a good listener and would listen to their stories while I applied their pore-minimiser foundation, always applying a second foundation to ensure I made my 20 unit sale. After the clients left, I would take out my note book and write down any specials occasion, updating their record cards. When I look back at it now, with such fondness, I recall the conversations about unfaithful husbands, unhappy women unable to leave, trapped in their lives. Only a decade before, women couldn't open a bank account or get a mortgage. There were also others being treated like princesses, in loving relationships. Younger women trying to get their boyfriend to marry them, and divorce suddenly seemed more common. There were women going back into the workforce or retraining - coming in to buy a porcelain blue eyeshadow to boost their mood and leaving with a bag full of products that gave them the confidence to take on the world. They almost always bought the handbag-sized Aromatics Elixir. I told them it was how I added my superpower and confidence to my day, finishing my look with a spritz above my head and a dot of lip gloss on the bow of my lips.

We empowered each other. When I look back now, I believe that most of us were there as therapy for these women - they needed the moral support, and we needed the sales. It was a brilliant exchange. Remember, in those days, there were no blow-dry bars, manis, pedis, or brow salons. If you wanted a perm, it was more than likely your nanna doing it for you out of a box on a Saturday night, along with highlights - but never at the same time, for fear of going orange.

They were amazing times, so different from today. We used to play disco music on the counters with our subwoofers, the store manager often telling us off for being too loud - but also reminding us that we were the first people the customers saw as the entered the store, so we had to make sure we smiled and welcomed them. That honestly worked for me: connecting with a smile, humility and empathy!

Clinique 'promotion site' from 1982. Credit: Clinique

I won all the incentives and extra commissions. I was driven to create success. My role at Clinique was my first bit of independence and the store discount helped me furnish my home. The first credit card I owned was a Debenhams store card. We called it the "glad and sorry" - glad you've got it, sorry you had to pay for it.

I was promoted to the Special Events team in the West End of London, as I was one of the top performers in the South East. I had to get store approval for Harrods, Selfridges, Harvey Nichols, Dickins & Jones, DH Evans, Army and Navy Victoria. I was on my way to becoming the sassy, cocky, stocking and suspenders-wearing beauty consultant, with big ambitions and even bigger dreams. I was entering the world of the Grand Dames of beauty, bigger and better counters, and professional sound systems. Every day felt like Christmas Eve in Central London, and we worked hard to deliver success as a team.

I have met so many amazing people on my journey through this amazing industry. If I could go back and take one last peak at myself, it would be those times at Debenhams of Croydon. In my mind, I see a picture of me with porcelain blue eyeshadow, bright pink lipstick, sculpted cheeks, and bouncy blonde hair, standing and waiting patiently for customers to ask for help - ready to listen, watch and learn, observing how she held herself, her life story, her dreams and aspirations.

It's where my education began in how to behave and look like a lady. The older counter ladies, whom we then called "the Golden Girls", taught me so much about life. They really had lived and traveled, and I was in awe of them. Every woman who shared her story with me gave me the courage to push forward. I learned to speak better, become more eloquent, and gain confidence. These lessons helped shape me into who I am today. I will always be grateful for that opportunity.

Outside of work, it was the 1980s. The music was great, the clothes were too. I saved a fortune having a uniform to wear everyday, and anytime I made a purchase, I would work out the return on investment per wear. We were all great friends and partied and played together.

It's all nostalgia, but what I also realise is that everything is new again. As I look around me today, I see remnants of the 1970s and 1980s appearing, and I am grateful that I was there the first time around.

Main image: Clinique