Either I’m overcompensating for my attack of emotional jaundice earlier in the month, or what’s that other thing…? Oh, right: I’ve gone insane. Because, number one, I’m wearing pants encrusted with rhinestones (LIKE A CRAZY PERSON) and striped satin espadrilles. Second, or “B,” I just spent half an hour looking online for something called “Diorshow Ice Pearl Mascara,”which costs $23, and felt actual pangs of sadness when it was unavailable.

Here it is:

I’m not expecting any sympathy, here. I would find it hard to work up a lot of sympathy for anyone whining about the unavailability of $23 clear mascara that supposedly deposits globs of sparkly crystals on your eyelash-tips, creating an ethereal Frost Princess look of great allure. Oh, boo hoo, I would say, and I might say it twice.

I don’t know why I felt the sudden urge for Ice Pearl Mascara. I think it’s because the model on the cover of Sephora’s holiday catalogue is wearing it and looks all frosty and angelic. She also looks about nine years old, and her eyes are a little red, so either she’s been up for thirty hours smoking crack, or the Ice Pearls are emitting toxic fumes. Either way, there’s no way I would ever achieve her fey, snowy glow, even if I purchased forty vials of Ice Pearl Mascara and apply them simultaneously. I know already that the stuff would glob up in giant, non-frosty lumps, creating the illusion that I’d just woken up and hadn’t rubbed the sleep goop out of my lashes. (Hott.)

I can't explain my need for sparkles. It's not really like me, and disturbing, and I'm trying to keep it to a minimum. I'm afraid of heading down the path to crazed middle-aged spinster, all dolled up in leopard-print gauze and a big hat, or something, with lime green jeweled bedroom slippers and a handbag featuring the silhouette of a borzoi outlined in sequins.

Please, someone: I'm in distress, using my BeaDazzler to spell out "HELP" in Austrian crystals on the back of a white denim jacket.

Star of the day. . .Don McLean