Category: Beauty

Five Things I Loved in August

“We don’t need to have just one favorite. We keep adding favorites. Our favorite book is always the book that speaks most directly to us at a particular stage in our lives. And our lives change. We have other favorites that give us what we most need at that particular time. But we never lose the old favorites. They’re always with us. We just sort of accumulate them.”
― Lloyd Alexander

It was a whirlwind month, so I figured a little introspection wouldn’t go amiss as we head into the month of “back to school” and “seasonal wardrobe” changes. The nights are getting cool, even though the days are still deceptively hot, and all of London is working hard to soak up as much Vitamin D as possible. Winter is coming, and all that, kittens! Here’s a quick run down of the things, profound and silly alike, that made my month.

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Image via Netflix

Stranger Things. Count us among the many who inhaled the series in one go. Proud of the fact I am not (it was a late night). Would I do the same again? Instantly. Noir meets science fiction meets childhood depicted right meets 80s nostalgia. I can’t tell if I’m happy or not it got a second series as it strikes me as one of those wonderful things in real danger of being ruined by its own popularity…but I’m deciding to be optimistic. Anyone else have thoughts to share on the cult-inspired cult hit of the summer?

Shimmering Skin Perfector® Pressed

Image via Becca Cosmetics

Becca Highlighters. These gems come in liquid, cream, and powder form and each have different finishes and effects on the skin. I was always a blush girl but had a hard time getting over the idea of anything designed to make one shine, probably an overreaction to Twilight hype (or more likely just intimidation when considering how I was supposed to use such an item). Consider me converted.

Image via Amazon

Agnostic: A Spirited Manifesto (audiobook). It’s taken me a while to give audiobooks a try, which is odd given that I listen to more podcasts and spoken word media than I do music, but I am coming around. I really enjoyed this book, narrated by the author herself. Lesley Hazelton has a deep contralto voice that I found a joy to listen to at the gym, on public transport, or just doing chores around the house. I like it when authors narrate their own books; they have the most intimate knowledge of their writing, of course, and so I think can probably imbue text with their intended emotional meaning better than even talented and experience voice readers. I wonder how much gets lost in emotional translation in many audiobook cases? I’ve listened to one or two audio books in my time that sounded absolutely silly or unenjoyable in audio form but when I picked them up in text later I had a completely different reaction to them. In almost every instance, I felt that the audio reader “got it wrong” somehow. In any event, I found this book not just delightful to hear, but the topic to be handled personally, intelligently, and even humorously. To write personally about agnosticism, which is usually debated nastily or dismissively in my experience, with wit and mischief was really interesting, and I came away wholeheartedly agreeing with her that whatever one’s personal beliefs, the real danger comes from “one dimensional thinking.” In the end, what Hazelton really seems to reject, in my opinion, is not forms of belief so much as fundamentalism.

Image via Glossier

Glossier concealer. Amateur beauty junkie that I am, I tend to keep an eye on companies and launches that tickle my fancy and test them whenever I can. London is a veritable beauty mecca but there are new and interesting US based brands popping up all the time that don’t have European suppliers or don’t ship here yet. Such a heartbreaker is Glossier who I have been lusting after ever since they came out with their Phase 1. I timed an order to correspond with our visit to Utah and have been testing all the goodies I stocked up on ever since and can dub the Stretch Concealer (in shade Medium for me) an absolute winner. The UK has been roasting for the whole of this month and most complexion goods simply slide off the typical mortal woman’s face in the tube but this baby has held firm. Alas I couldn’t order the Haloscope highlighter…next stateside jaunt.

Email chains with friends. With a chunk of time in July taken up with family travel and a new job offer, my mind was a bit preoccupied. Last month the girls and I (we keep up regular and spirited correspondence, deeply grateful we live in the age of email and text because that six-weeks-delayed-gossip-and-dependent-on-mail-coaches nonsense would simply have not done at all), wrote about creative projects, Tudor history, and shopping for decor in decommissioned masonic temples. Seriously. I’m planning an upcoming trip to Spain with one, getting to hear about a potential new gentleman friend from another, catching up on freelance work with yet another. Food for the soul.

What have been your summer standouts, darlings? And more importantly, what other pop culture do I need to catch up on as a matter of priority?

Lipstick Pilgrimage

“All my life I’ve pursued the perfect red.”
—Diana Vreeland

One of the highlights of my trip to New York was the day X and I spent out and about indulging in some beauty therapy of the old school variety: cosmetics. Custom ones at that!

For some context, apart from sharing what is now pushing two decades of inside jokes, adoptive family titles that we take very seriously, university experiences, spiritual journeys, unexpected career paths, and any number of binding overlaps, we also share an unholy love of lipstick. It is a rare text or email chain that does not include a close up image captioned with the make and model of whatever shade we happen to be wearing that day. So obviously, in planning our NYC itinerary, there was one spot we had to go: the Bite Beauty Lip Lab.

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X was in need of a true coral color, I was on the hunt for the perfect blend of berry and fuchsia. Both of us wanted a highly editorial gray/greige shade that we decided to double up on because if you can’t do a custom best friend lippie than what is the point of life, I ask you? X prebooked our appointed (required) and Jeff bowed out to go hang with a university flatmate currently getting a masters at Columbia…and to do some shoe shopping.

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It’s a thing of beauty to be able to mix your own shades and amazing to see the Bite team whip up your requests expertly. I had a bad moment of doubt or two when a seemingly odd color was dropped into my swirling mash of pigment but inevitably it was precisely what the concoction needed. Shut up and let the pros work, C..

The Bite team are fantastically enthusiastically patient, mixing and tweaking and allowing customers apparently unlimited time to stare at their lips in the mirror and waffle on whether you need to go a touch warmer, cooler, redder, bluer, or whatever. It’s a good thing this place is 1) not entirely cheap, and 2) in another country otherwise the amount of my money it would otherwise suck down would be dire indeed.

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It’s not just the colors that are fun, it’s that you can customize everything from the texture to the scent using oils. I went for a creamy semi-gloss for my purple shade, and X and I decided on a matte finish with a unusual mix of oils for our scent to keep it weird, gorgeous, and unique

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If you’re still on the hunt for the perfect red (or gray, or green, or goodness knows what shade) it’s absolutely worth a visit. Plus the tiny thrill of being asked where you got your lipstick and being able to respond that it’s a creation singular to you is not to be discounted. Couture we cannot have, custom we can!

It’s Happening

“At 50, everyone has the face he deserves.”
― George Orwell

I’ve written before about my general apathy towards getting older. I don’t see it as a bad thing and find too many attempts of people trying to maintain youth sliding into outright immaturity to be attractive. I also think that the physical pressure on woman to try and appear as young as possible for as long as possible annoying, exhausting, and a foregone conclusion in the battle with the clock and gravity. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look at the silver streak for and think, “And so it begins,” a little bit.
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My 30th birthday is but days away and the aging process has begun! My only complaint (besides my apparently inability to keep my camera orientation at the same setting for more than two photos) is that my genes didn’t put this silver streak front and center like Stacey London. Or Cruella de Vil. Honestly, Mother Nature, do a girl a solid and give her some dramatic impact!

Minion coterie, share! First signs of aging in you, your friends, or your family members that you noticed and why?

Feminism and Facebook Facepalms

“The emotional, sexual, and psychological stereotyping of females begins when the doctor says: “It’s a girl.”
― Shirley Chisholm

Facebook, your standards on acceptable depictions of the female body (as discovered when researching image regulations for a client’s social media posts) trouble me. I think we can all agree that bathroom selfies need to go, but out of the three (of four total) images depicting women, the bottom left image is the one showing the most inappropriate amounts of skin? Really?

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Weekend Weirdness

“The computer can’t tell you the emotional story. It can give you the exact mathematical design, but what’s missing is the eyebrows.”
Frank Zappa

Coming in too late for the links, but must be discussed anyway.

We’re friends, right? And friends share weird life facts, right? Well, inspired by Cara Delevigne and the absolute deluge of thick brow-ed beauties gracing the world of media and print advertising (plus some over zealous plucking in my youth), I’ve been growing out my eyebrows for a while. Which is a strange thing to type let alone do, but bear with me. I speak as a woman who has worked in a women’s magazine for a WHOLE WEEK now and is therefore clearly an expert, big eyebrows are A Thing and moreover, A Thing Of Which I Approve. However, this surgery completely freaks me out.

 

The Winter of My Skin’s Discontent

“She couldn’t get any farther away inside from her skin. She couldn’t get away.”
― Cynthia Voigt, When She Hollers

Confession. All my adult life I’ve read the articles in women’s magazines about the perils of winter on a girl’s skin, and I always assumed I got genetically lucky. My skin was largely okay. Even living in a desert state with dry air for years, the only thing that really affected my complexion was hormonal cycles and bad eating (still occasionally guilty of the latter). Then I moved to London. After an initial breakout, my skin calmed down again (many thanks for your advice)…until winter hit.

Team, consider me a convert. The magazines were not, in fact, just lying to promote sales of various products. The desert air has nothing on your old school heater in a city flat. I’ve never experienced the flaking, cracking, and shedding of my epidermis that I have in the last couple of months. Also, as a child I had eczema that mostly cleared up, except for my scalp where it has more or less stayed for the past two decades. Annoying but manageable. Not anymore! My eczema is back with a vengeance and it has become quite painful in areas.

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I’m giving the mirror some serious side-eye here.

Sorry to the more prurient minded among you, that’s not a hickey. It’s but one of the visible patches of winter eczema currently dotting my neck, chest, and face. This one is mostly healed, after a week long battle with medication. I’ve got streaks of it just below the neckline of my supremely fashion forward alma mater hoodie, and a patch on my right temple which took a big enough hit that I’m pretty sure its going to leave some scarring. Drat.

The current arsenal.
The current arsenal, posed in front of the offending heater.

Nivea is currently managing things below the collar bone while my argan balms and are keeping things like knees, elbows, and feet intact. I’ve got my eczema specialist for spot treatment, my moisturizer with SPF for day and my eye cream and Kiehls treatment for night. Lips require their own regimen. Neosporin gets slathered on any point where the skin is punctured, fractured, or generally abused. One heavy duty cream for the nights where they won’t cut it. For the first time in my life I’ve needed the occasional slathering of hand cream after a day out in the cold!

All of this is mostly helping, but I’m wondering if it’s a bit much and if there’s an easier way to keep my skin from falling off. So I’m putting another call out for winter skin and facial care recommendations. RSVP. Before I disintegrate.

Well…Drat!

“If Botticelli were still alive, he’d be working for Vogue.”
– Peter Ustinov

Dear Fairy Who Bestows Genetic Gifts:

I’ve got curves.  I’ve got pale skin (in the lovely way, not the sickly way).  I’ve got dark hair.  I look fantastic in red.  Would it have been to much trouble to have let me turn out a little bit more like this:

A while back, J. and I got a bunch of free subscriptions to magazines.  He gets a golf magazine and The Economist, we share The Atlantic, and I got Vogue.  The Bible.

I love it.  I swallow it whole.  And, occasionally, it makes me sick.  With envy.  See above.

Anti. Aging.

 “God has given you one face and you make yourself another.”
– Shakespeare

A little while ago Sav wrote a post about her foray into the au naturale world of skin care, and it got me thinking. 

I remember going through the usual litany of cleansers, toners, and gadgets when I was a teenager (maybe less than some girls, since I didn’t learn how to be a girl myself until about 17).  I started with Clean and Clear, moved on to Neutrogena, and then cast it ruthlessly aside for Biore, more particularly, their Pore Strips.  Amazing! 

We're close to the same age, sweetie, but you're still looking like jailbait.
"We're close to the same age, but I'm still trying to look like jailbait. I'm reinforcing the crippling self-doubt you are probably experiencing right now just looking at my airbrushed face. Hey! We've got a product for that!"

But these days…a funny thing has started happening.  The commercials that make me sit up and pay attention, or the things I’d want to buy, are being sold by older women.  The endless parade of Disney Channel prodigies, starlets,  and pop stars that probably would have sent me scampering to the chemist’s shelves for the products they were endorsing in my youth…are children, babies!  I wouldn’t let them sell me cement, much less something to put on my face! 

Has anyone else noticed this? 

"You're obviously thinking way too hard about this one, C. Accept your ceaseless crawl towards maturity with grace. I'll be getting plastic surgery in a year or two, myself."