You Have the Mystifying Sheen of a French Mustard

This morning I woke to the radio, and before refining my senses with coffee, swore I heard the DJ say it was "National Condiment Day." Being one who relishes the absurd, yes, I was intrigued, and ventured forth onto the internet. I soon discovered that there is no National Condiment Day (yet), and that today is instead "National Compliment Day." My burgeoning narrative was crushed like so many mustard seeds; I sat with the perfect complement to condiments, the very Periodic Table of Condiments, all dressed up and no place to go. My mind still buzzed with lowbrow punchlines, an infinite loop of "I will ketchup but first I mustard." Spread before me was the awful truth. I had to face it:

You look lovely today, gentle reader; I value your insight. Did you do something with your hair?