Posts Tagged ‘beauty’
I am such a devotee of Deep Sleep Bath Oil from British beauty brand This Works that when the company’s products briefly stopped being available in the US, I spent a tiny fortune on essential oils, trying to replicate its scent for myself. If you’d have become addicted to it, you might have too: it’s as effective as Ambien and smells divine (in addition to the expected lavender and camomile, there are notes of coconut and patchouli, which skews things decidedly sexy. In fact I have, on more than one occasion, dabbed it on my pulse points before a date). Yes, the bottle will set you back, but you only use the tiniest little capful for the whole bath. Or, if you still can’t quite take the leap, there’s always the Deep Sleep Shower Gel or pillow spray.
Here’s what I learned from the lady at the MAC store on Friday: when attempting to apply liner to the the outer corners of the lower lash line—always such a tricky maneuver—swap out your brush liner for an old-school pencil. Goodbye, smudgy mess, hello, eyes so huge and pretty you won’t believe they’re yours.
I’ve got wicked under eye circles. They go away sometimes and then return whenever I start to feel too good about my appearance, just to keep me in line. There was a time when I held out hope they might be banished altogether, but that was before I had access to a fashion magazine’s beauty closet, which enabled me to sample copious of-the-moment remedies and finally conclude that the only true cure for under eye circles is a first-rate concealer. I still feel that way. But this Kate Somerville cream, of which I was given a sample the other day, definitely has some kind of magic in it. I put it on the other morning as a base before applying concealer, then returned to the mirror five minutes later* and the thick purple crescents under my eyes were, much to my astonishment, significantly diminished. Anything that allows me to spackle on the makeup just a little less thick is aces in my book, so I bought the stuff, which wasn’t cheap, but I think will work out very well on a cost-per-use basis because you only use just the eensiest little squirtlet of it.
* A beauty editor once instructed me to wait a full five minutes between application of eye cream and concealer, and indeed that does seem to be the exact right amount of time necessary for for maximal concealer absorption and minimal concealer smudging.
There’s something happening later on this week that I have to look especially good for, so I’m doing the usual drill and getting a blowout and false lashes (my failsafe shortcut to looking professionally made up) and then a manicure too, which almost never happens around here, because my nails are too sad to even bother. But I love how short nails look with dark polish, and this eggplant-y black purple is too good to resist. It’s very goth-girl-from-a-good-family, which is pretty much exactly the look I’m going for.
The heat clanged on this morning at around 6am, which to me always feels like the true arrival of fall, and also serves as my annual reminder that—thanks to my building’s management-controlled, bone-dry, super-sweltery thermostat—it’s time to step up efforts on the moisturizing front. Hands are always the first to go, so I keep this all-natural lavender balm on the night stand and glop it on thick right before bedtime. Try it: in the morning, your hands are soft enough that you can get away with not re-moisturizing during the day—which is always such a sticky old pain.
In a matter of months, I will turn 50. And I am, in many ways, fine with this. Too much of one’s late 40s seem to be about the slow creep to 50 anyway, and so I feel pretty OK about just getting there already. What I am not OK with is being an almost-50 year-old who still suffers the occasional breakout, and yet this remains part of my reality: a few days ago, I awoke to find three red spots on my right cheek and another on my left, just as fresh and alive as the day I turned 16. Does this happen to any of you? And if so, do you recall it happening to our mothers? I do not, and it hardly seems as though it should be part of the deal. At least I’ve got this powderkeg of a zit-eradicator from Kiehl’s on my side: apply it super-sparingly and just to the area affected, and it lays waste to unwanted pimples—a word that shouldn’t even have to be in our vocabulary at this stage in the game.