#58 Premature Resolution

Oh lordy it's happening again. First came the spring-cleaning (which began with the last spoonful of Xmas pud & cream being scraped into the dustbin), then came the wardrobe haulage (all unsuitable, unseasonable items are now zipped up in a John Lewis storage bag in the loft) and today, I waged war on the buckling shelves and burgeoning storage units in my study. There's something about the end of the year that sends me off into a bout of relentless navel gazing. I analyse my life, my home, my space, my skin. Then I start clearing out. Chucking bits of paper I've stashed safely all year, ripping apart magazines that have been stood in chronological order since time immemorial (otherwise known as the day I moved into my new flat) and sifting through boxes of beauty bumph that I've not yet had time to try, nor been able to offload on friends and family - trying to work out what on earth I'm supposed to do with it all. Here's an idea - if there is anyone out there who runs a legitimate charity and can make good use of unwanted, unused and unopened beauty products then please, drop me a line and fill me in on your proposal. Ta very much.

Whilst sifting - which took me the best part of 4 hours - I ended up with three distinct piles: The crap that no one would ever want; the stuff that I don't want, but someone else might love and the gems I'm saving for myself, just in case I ever manage to grow myself another face or five, and will thereby find good use for.

Tomorrow I shall regale you with the good stuff.
Tonight, I'll serve up the unsatisfactory:


CRAP TRAP
I have a mate who loves J-Lo's, Paris', Coleen's and Gwen's scents. There's nowt snobby about her - and she always sniffs it like it is. But Alex by OK! Magazine sent her running for the nearest door. Words used? Sweet, cloying, air-freshener, headache-inducing - like one's first sniff of an early 90s incarnation of Impulse. The bottle's about as classy as Jordan on the pull too. Wrinkle-inducing grimaces abound.

The mineral foundation revolution. Anyone would think skincare companies had found a cure for cancer with all the harping on that's been done about these curious pots of powder. The fact is, the vast majority of the mineral formulas out there are sadly lacking in purity. Many of them (including L'Oreal's True Match Mineral Foundation) contain one or more dodgy additions, such as Diazolidinyl Urea (a common irritant) and Bismuth Oxychloride (neither of which are found in nature), so the 'go to sleep in it, wake up with better skin' myth, is in most cases just that - MYTH. Be wary and always check the labels before parting with your hard-earned cash.

My other peeve is that I've not yet tried a mineral powder that looked great on my skin. I'll start by saying that I've never ever worn face powder - hey, if my nose shines, so be it - so I'm not used to seeing a veil of dust on the skin, which tends to gather around my eyebrows and cheeks, where I have a wee bit of peach fuzz. But at least with face powder you can get away with just a swish over the T-Zone, but if you choose a mineral powder foundation, you're supposed to be able to use it everywhere - under eyes, over spots, atop chins - and it's often marketed as being a foundation-and-concealer-in-one too. Problem is, wherever you put it and however well you blend, it's always partially VISIBLE, which as far as I'm concerned, is cardinal base sin #1.

There may be others in the future that I love - I've saved a couple of pots for new year dalliances - but for the timebeing, at this stumped-out, fag-end of 2007, they're in the NOT HOT POT... going, going, gone.