#80 Happy Highs and Extraordinary Lows...

Here's another round-up of the best beauty loot that won't break the bank:

Bourjois Rouge Hi-Tech Lip Tint in Rouge Futuriste
I adore orangey-red shades for lips - from peachy corals to blood orange - and the first time I tried this I was seriously impressed. The first coat leaves nothing other than a sheer stain - the sort of colour my lips go after sipping on orange & carrot juice! - but build it up and by the third layer, this stain leaves lips with the sort of high-fashion hue that chimes perfectly between red and orange. Current, flattering and cool. I've worn it with a tan and while being pale as blotting paper - both times with compliment-inducing effect. The one downside is that it can wear off unevenly, staining the inner, more porous part of my lips for longer than the outer, smoother edges - which is why I keep the portable little pot on hand for touch-ups.

Urban Decay Iconic Lipstick in 5150
The packaging aims for 'high-design' (cough 'gimmicky' cough), but unfortunately it translates as weighty and cumbersome... thankfully, the entire range makes up in colour and texture what it lacks in practicality. My chosen muted cherry pink shade is the sort of bright, without being bold, colour that always manages to perk up the complexion. The hint of glitter doesn't work for everyone, but in a dimly lit bar where the subtle sparkle looks immensely flattering, it is just the ticket.

And from atop the fence...then over the other side...

There are a few brands that fit into my 'I'm just not sure about them' category. The ideas are strong, but execution is somehow lacking. Be it the packaging, the textures, the shades or just simply that they do not deliver - the following brands have yet to hit my mark:

New id Cosmetics
I like the ideas behind a lot of these products. i-groom, for example, is an angled, triangular-tipped pencil, that is well-shaped to fill in patchy brows, and also comes with a pleasingly grippy-bristled brush at the other end. However, when I opened mine for the first time, the pencil lead flew out, followed by the spring mechanism, and subsequent models have also proven a bit flimsy. I've also tried i-blush (once again a clever concept of a trio of contouring and highlighting cheek colours), but despite the 'finely milled powder' and 'Ipanema' promise, found them all slightly chalky and the color choice not particularly flattering on my pale golden skin.

Cosmetics a la Carte
Here is a clear case of a cosmetics company with a big, faithful fanbase, that could very much benefit from a revamp. Bases come in a wide range of shades - the ethos is 'made to measure make-up' - and the concealers are bestsellers thanks to their longwearing, but nicely blendable, formulas. But here's the rub - the packaging is plasticky, design is dated and much of it looks, well, cheap. The silver silken bags (think party favours) within which products are packaged does not do much to redeem them either. An unfortunate case of sufficient substance, but not enough style.


Virgin Vie...
Oh dear. I'm afraid that VV has become shorthand in beauty ed world for brands that miss the mark by a mind-bogglingly long way. This brand has SO much potential. Many of the formulas are fab - I remember testing the Skin Dew Primer some years ago and being rather impressed - but the general look of the products (particularly the make-up), is dated, dull and often illogical. I might be sued for libel here, but I'll risk it by saying that it looks as though VV have attempted to copy Estee Lauder's packaging (think navy blue with gold insignia), but have somehow produced something that looks more like Marks & Spencer. Regardless, there are clearly lots of ladies who love the line (the online business is booming) - even if the unphotogenic products rarely make it onto the pages of glossy magazines (or into my evening bag).

#36 Sister Act

I've just had the most self-indulgent weekend on record. I snoozed, watched movies, revisited my favourite novel, organised my magazines and managed to spend almost an entire 48 hours in just three rooms. Ordinarily, I'd have been climbing the walls, but there was something about the sodden streets and humid air that had me yearning for some quiet time – I think I uttered no more than twenty words in total as the hubby was work-tied all weekend. Last night's guilty pleasure was a re-run of Mean Girls – which, despite the tenth viewing, still has me howling with laughter in parts. It also got me thinking about The Plastics – the perfectly polished clique of girls at the movie's centre. Ironed hair, glossed pouts, airbrushed skin and hollow heads. It's hard to argue that the triumvirate's queen bee doesn't look good – even if she's full of matter so superficial (and artificial) that she'd give a bag of turkey twizzlers a run for their money. Her brand of beauty – the teen queen look – can be spotted every Saturday on most high streets around the country. I've always been intrigued by this look – knowing just how much intensive work goes into it. Clump-free lashes, flawless foundation (utterly unnecessary given their naturally peachy skin), pencilled arches and watermelon mouths… growing up, it was my sister, not me, who fitted into this category. She would set her alarm clock an hour before mine every morning, wash and blowdry her hair, spend thirty minutes perfecting her kohl-rimmed eyes and powdered face and skip breakfast as she was too busy tidying her brows. The routine gave her confidence – she was always a hit with the boys – whereas I found it irksome. I just wanted to roll out of bed, dab on some lip balm, pull my hair into a ponytail and go to school. The difference divided us for years. I could not see past her maquillage mask. She could not understand my naked face. At some point our paths crossed. I started to care about my skin. I read up on balms, creams, serums, gels and oils. I bought beauty magazines and earmarked the pages with good advice. Then, along with my first crush, came make-up – and, embarrassed as I am to admit it – it was my younger sister who guided my hand. She showed me how to pull an exaggerated smile and brush a pop of colour onto the part of the cheek that appears the most raised. She traced an expert line across my lids with Guerlain Terracotta Loose Powder Kohl Eyeliner – a seriously extravagant purchase for a 15 year old – but one that she uses to this day. She dabbed Shiseido Lipgloss in Champagne onto my lips and curled my lashes, before defining them with YSL mascara – I think it was Everlong. She introduced me to Juicy Tubes, Face Powder (jn a square box, decorated with the face of a geisha) and Bourjois blusher. As I evolved (or regressed – it is, I suppose, a judgement call) so too did our relationship. Funnily enough, the tables have now turned. She still knows her stuff, but with hundreds of new products launching every year, she loses track. I'm paid to be on the ball – and enjoy pointing her in the right direction and filling her bag with products whenever she pops over for a cuppa. She still pokes fun at me – the clueless, tomboyish, trainer-wearing big sister who has somehow managed to metamorphose into a 'real' girl… a real girl, who, occasionally, develops a penchant for the plastic.

#31 Skins

As much as I would like to think of my beauty quest as being utterly just – blind and impartial – the truth of the matter is, looks count. Take the new cosmetics range from Korres. It’s beautiful – inspiringly ripe colours, familiar coarse & earthy packaging, bright visuals – I want it all. I’ve sketched and rubbed a good deal of it over the backs of my hands, across lids and into cheeks already and am impressed with the easygoing textures… but I imagined good things from the moment I opened the envelope. Great expectations – that were not dashed at the first sniff or swipe. Then you have the products at the other, unfortunate, embarrassing, ‘editorially-unfit’ end of the spectrum. Such as Montagne Jeunesse’s horrifically frightening face masks. Just how this company expects to elicit a sense of excitement with their shots of heads and bodies bedecked in fruit flurries and plant pot pourri is a mystery to me. The packaging is HIDEOUS. But, unfairly, the products are rather good. The bust firming gel is a decent, tightening brew that really does get your boobies tingling and most importantly, wobbling far less than before. Yes, the results are temporary – but then, aren’t they all? Likewise, the marine mineral mask is very hydrating, even if it isn’t ideal for sensitive skins and it’s too heavily perfumed. All in all – not too bad – yet the packaging is fit only for practical jokes and ironic birthday gifts.

Perhaps it shouldn’t matter. Perhaps, that exhausted maxim ‘Beauty is only skin-deep’ should apply to our cosmetic quests too… but then, we are talking about cosmetics. It’s as superficial as it gets – we want to look good – so it makes sense that we expect the same of the products we choose. There are the Chanels, Korners, Stellas, Stilas and Paul & Joes of this world – and then there are the Virgin Vies, Collection 2000, Colorsports and fake nail companies. Yes, yes, yes – they might be GOOD, but they’re just too darned ugly.

And lest I be labelled a, well, ‘label’ whore – I’d also like to big up the little winners too. Barbara Daly, Bourjois, Mister Mascara, Rimmel, Urban Decay and No 7. And that’s just for starters. No, it has nothing to do with price – just plain beauty. Inside and out.

#7 The Goody Bag

I get sent so many products that sometimes, before opening them, I hope that I won't like them. If I don't like them, I'm at liberty to pile them into pretty paper bags and give them to my friends and relatives - who lap them up like Augustus Gloop in the chocolate river - and save me some more space in my bathroom cabinets. It's not that I'm ungrateful (even though I must sound it), it's that I've become worn out by the fickle falling-in-love affair that happens every single day when you're a beauty editor. It's like a rather shallow case of Stendhal Syndrome - that sort of palpitating ecstasy that one experiences on witnessing a catalogue of beautiful, sublime things (in Stendhal's case, Art in Florence), but on my part, it's bag upon bag of new scent, new shade, new skincare. And when the sensation passes, you're left feeling rather numb.

So when I begin to feel numb, I take a rifle through my goody bag. Things I've kept aside for myself - after they've been shot - to test and trifle with. It cheers me up, it invigorates me, and it reminds me of why I like this little game and how fun it can all be. Something, I've certainly not forgotten yet. It's also a very democratic little bag. Big fish mingle with little fish, hefty tags with measly sums, drugstore cowboys beside park avenue princesses... here's the rundown:

1. DuWop Shadowlift in Heat. A shadow that is supposed to lift and tighten eyelids. That sounds David Gest scary. I felt nothing. What I saw, however, was a smooth, highly-pigmented layer of creamy shadow that illuminated my eyelids. This shade's a killer too. A burnished, pink-bronze, that looks devastatingly good when worn with jet black maccy + liner.

2. Urban Decay Deluxe Eyeshadow in Shag. Name aside (is it supposed to be a conversation starter?) this is IT. Admittedly, it is rather similar to the shade above, with more gold and less pink, but it has an unusual, spongy-powder texture that glides onto lids and really takes root. It loves the light too and is therefore ideal for any night when you're planning to flirt like a brazen little hussy. Oh, I see, there was method in the naming madness...

3. Bourjois Lovely Brill in Coquillage Rose. The smell, oh the smell, takes me back in a two-second swipe to my very first nicked lipstick. There was a rubbed down stub of a shade that my mum saved from the seventies - it was glittery, and bright and pink and HORROR, frosted. I wore it every day until a cotton bud was unable to extricate one last atom of colour from the hollow casing. Now, I've found this. In the tube, it looks completely different, then I smell it and the rose-y confectionary whiff - Pez crossed with Fruit Salads - makes me think it might work. And then I apply it - what do you know? If the 70s stub had grown up and had illicit sex with Chanel's Rose Baby, this would have been their lovechild.

WINK WINK...
In June 2007, Bourjois will be launching a selection of four new lip care products, called Lip Clinic. They'll include a lip scrub (mini exfoliating brush) and moisturising balm duo; a nourishing night balm; a lip-plumping gloss and a clear mint-scented gloss. Packaging, as ever with this cute little piece of french fancy, is pleasing and the products will take some beating too.

Misadventure #1

Working for a magazine is not glamorous. I’ve just vacated a building – HQ of one of the world’s largest publishing companies – that had dead mice in drawers and after-hours rodents rummaging through Ryvita boxes, Gucci gowns and Hermes handbags alike. Keeping my space clear and clean was an impossibility – just minutes after my daily desk-disinfection ritual (Dettol spray, antiseptic wipes, kitchen towels and tea tree oil), the post would arrive. Padded envelopes would split and yield lung-choking dust, bottles crushed in transit would leak and spray their contents and the paper mountain would grow yet again. But everyone loves Mr Postman and I’m no exception. On my left hand side, I’d keep a row of products that didn’t piss me off. That smelt good, felt good, looked good and were, well, good. But on my right hand side, in the bigger pile that would be dumped into the deepest drawer, were the disappointments. The sticky residues, lumpy textures, garish scents and vomit-inducing vanity projects…

In the left corner we have …
Bourjois Effet 3D Les Nudes Lipgloss. Because Bourjois know that a nude ought to have a hint of pink – or your kisser will look cadaverous.

Brown Earth Shea & Cocoa Butter Body Cream. We’re used to getting a heady, artificial sweetness from cocoa butter – a saccharine, treacly, buttery, choco-waft. This is nothing like it. It smells like Play-do. Really. But it cocoons the skin, keeps it springy and softens back-of-arm bumps like nothing else I’ve ever tried.

Benefit Creaseless Cream Shadow Liner in My Date’s My Brother. From the new, Love Your Look range, this delicate shimmering pink feels like it would melt off eyes within seconds. Then it sets and doesn’t budge all day. I just love it when things surprise me.


And in the right corner…
Danielle Steele Eau de Toilette. The first novelist to launch her own fragrance. Everything you need to know is encapsulated in the previous sentence.

Paris Hilton ‘Heiress’ Eau de Toilette. If I liked it, I would be the first to admit it. Part of me even wanted to like it – to go against the crowd and be the black sheep of scent sniffers. I happen to like a lot of unfashionable fragrances–some from The Body Shop, a cheap £5 bottle I bought from Boots when I was 13, rose bases and lavender notes all. I even love the fake-fresh smell of cheap deodorant and sometimes spray a bit extra in place of perfume. So in a bid to bypass the snobbery surrounding scent, I wanted to rave about this. But one spritz and I was decided. Awful, awful, awful. And like all really bad scents, it takes an age to dissipate when sprayed in the office. Eugh.

EXPLAIN YOURSELF…
I’ve found my perfect mascara match. A gorgeous, silky, rose-scented stick that leaves lashes tinted with a delicate gloss and luminous colour – I love it. The problem is, it’s made by Chantecaille and costs £29. TWENTY-NINE-POUNDS. The same amount as a Topshop summer dress, a pretty tasty dinner or a darn good face cream. I am neither rich nor mad, so once this dalliance has dried up, I have no choice but to end it and move onto a more stable, sustainable relationship.

WINK WINK…
Cult brand Körner will be launching a lip treatment later this year. The formula’s still being tweaked, but I’m betting this will be one lip-smacking and non-tacky tub of goodness.