I’ve lost count of the numbers of new beauty items I’ve tested and tried over the last year (mostly for work but sometimes for fun)—creams and serums, blushes and bronzers, mascaras, brow pencils and pomades, lipsticks and stains, oil-based everything and a few new brushes and tools to apply said products.
But not every item that starting popping up on shelves as far back as January is worthy of being singled out. The six gems I’ve chosen weren’t even part of my beauty routine Some nine months ago and now I can’t imagine going without them. Cue the applause.
Even if your high school days are well behind you, it doesn’t mean you won’t get the occasional acne flare-up. Hormones, stress and diet can all contribute to what happens on the surface of your skin well into adulthood and while it may not be as devastating as a prom zit it can be just as frustrating to deal with.
Confession: In high school, I had one of those deep cystic pimples that looked like a horn was trying to break though my forehead and a good friend of mine could. not. stop. staring. I couldn’t really blame her and we still talk, and laugh, about it to this day.
Truth be told, I don’t have much to complain about when it comes to my skin; it’s relatively problem-free if slightly on the dry side but I still get those epic, can’t-look-away blemishes that I want to deal with ASAP.
Luckily, with age comes wisdom. And you’d be wise to give Clear Difference a whirl. Continue reading
Inspired by Into The Gloss‘ recent feature about three different women and how long it takes them to get ready in the a.m., I decided to record my own morning rituals because 1) an average of five minutes seemed impressively low and 2) it sounded fun.
My morning routine isn’t a straight line—it’s more twisty. Akin to the stop-and-start of those mazes on the back of cereal boxes as a kid: I’m in the shower, then I’m steaming a top. I’m putting together some avo-toast and then I’m checking email. Rarely do I, like most I’m sure, just concentrate on my face and hair. Continue reading