#60 Helping Husband

I attended a wedding last month, where my friend's husband - extremely cute in a Mark Owen/Richard Hammond/James McAvoy sort of way - looked utterly dreadful. Bless him. Red eyes, dark circles, patchy skin and a little breakout on the chin. The couple spent several hours on the night regaling guests with stories of just how insomniac, anxious, busy and run down they'd become in the run up... she on the other hand looked flawless, because, as is a bride's right, she'd chosen to have a professional hair and make-up artist transform her from under-fed and hollow-eyed, to glistening cheekboned and ruby-lipped. She might have missed a few winks, but there were no missed opportunities amidst the menfolk, who flocked to her like moths to Greta Garbo's ember-tipped cigarette - she'd never looked better. A few weeks later, I quizzed her on the routine and it came as no surprise that on the morning of the wedding she'd used a cleanser, exfoliator, two masks, eye patches, a calming oil and massage technique (borrowed from her facialist) and then had several primers, highlighters and bases expertly blended and applied by her premier artist. As for her hubby - who's since bounced back to his charming ways - he rolled out of bed after a mere 25 minutes sleep, washed, shaved and patted on moisturiser - hoping for the best, but feeling somewhat hollow and harrowed by the puffy-eyed man looking back at him in the mirror.

This is where I become exasperated. Had he known just three or four simple tricks (his wife was in no position to help, sleeping as they did in separate parts of the country the night before) - he could have fixed his face with minimal fuss and spent the night with chest puffed out, rather than deflated in self-conscious apology.

Having chatted to several of my best-looking and well kempt colleagues, I feel the need to share the following...

1) If you have had no sleep the night before and need to look your best, be gentle with your skin. Overzealous cleansing, exfoliating and shaving will leave your complexion looking as you feel: irritable.

2) A few basics: if your skin is calm, but just looks dull and tired, invest in an enlivening, radiance-enhancing product, such as Nickel Morning After Rescue Gel, £24 (www.nickelspalondon.co.uk) - do not use immediately after shaving.

3) If your skin looks dry and patchy, after cleansing try a mask that will even out skintone such as Dermalogica Multi-Vitamin Power Recovery Mask, £21.35 (hqhair.com).

4) If you have dark circles around your eyes, couple an eye gel or cream with light-reflective properties (my brother loves Lab Series Age Rescue Eye Therapy, £25 (hqhair.com) ) with a concealer. Many will know that I'm not a big fan of YSL's Touche Eclat - and on men in particular, it's very easily spotted (especially when looking back at photographs!). I therefore recommend Laura Mercier Secret Concealer, £18, because it comes in three SKIN-like colours and blends in seamlessly. For best results, apply eye cream and while skin is still the tiniest bit spongey with moisture, tap the concealer all along the orbital bone (the hollowest part of the undereye) with a little finger. When blended, stop.

5) There is no treatment on earth that will get rid of spots instantly. If you are well-off and well-connected, you can book in for an emergency spot shot from a reputable dermatologist(otherwise known as a cortisone injection), but for mere mortals, DIY methods must suffice. I don't rate toothpaste at all - I've seen girls with red rashes after regular zit attacks with the stuff.

If you have no time to spare, my best advice is to take a teeny bit of aspirin, grind it up and add a bit of water to make a paste and dab it directly onto the spot. Leave for a a couple of minutes then rinse away with ice cold water. This will take down some swelling and redness. Another great option is to pop eye whitening drops, which constrict blood vessels thereby reducing blood flow (and redness), directly onto the spot. My current favourite blemish cover-up is Avene Couvrance Concealer Brush, £11 (boots.com). It is a pen-style applicator and comes in a beige and a green shade. If you can afford both, I'd recommend using the green concealer on red areas first, before blending, and then brushing the beige colour over that. Faffy it may be, but the formula blends down to utter invisibility and has never once felt heavy on my cake-prone skin.

Poor guys. I may not be receptive to the ongoing male battle to keep tools in trousers, but I'm certainly more than sympathetic should they choose to whip the odd trick out of their sleeves.

#19 The Fairer Sex...

I’ve not had much experience with men as Mr Malcontent was pretty much my first love. We met when we were still young in mind and body, fresh of face and hopeful of heart. Many years have passed and things are still pretty darn good. The inevitable things have changed – nowadays I rarely bother with the good underwear, he wears a pair of pyjama bottoms with more holes than fabric – in fact, wardrobe-wise, Mr Malcontent is not too bothered. I don’t mind – he has a good eye, skilfully skirting the line between scruffy and sexy and besides, I’ve never really wanted him to be a Hugo Boss man. I’d rather have a H&M boy any day of the week. In fact, the only fine-tuning that Mr M has proved susceptible to is not of the sartorial variety. The change has, in fact, taken place within his cosmetic closet instead. Sod’s Law dictates that Mr M has impeccable, beautiful skin. Clear and temperate with an outdoorsy smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks – boyish and youthful. He does not look his age. Sod’s Law also dictates that he had never taken an ounce of care with his complexion – when we first met, he was using shampoo as a face and body wash. I think it was Vosene. He was prone to dryness, a bit of eczema and as I entered the beauty arena, my knowledge and access to information filtered down to him. As did my continual product passover. You see, he would never spend more than a couple of quid on himself, but his eyes light up like fireflies when I hand him a bag of new booty. He gets face creams, self-tans, firming gels, eye lotions, lip balms… he has become my official male tester. There have been a few hiccups along the way. He’d been using self-tan as an everyday moisturiser, rubbing it into his eyes and wondering why his hands had turned a bizarre burnt-ochre colour overnight. So now, along with pricey products, I also pass on foolproof instructions first. When something’s good, he’s eager to tell me about it. He really liked Lush Afterlife – a cream that I hadn’t high hopes for. He said it made his dry skin feel comfortable and improved it within days. He also loves Nickel Morning After Rescue Gel. He uses it after a night when he’s struggled to sleep and insists that it makes him look fresher. He’s currently using The Sanctuary Cleansing Facial Wash and Protective 24 Hour Moisture Lotion SPF 15. Sneaky of me to give him an SPF-laden lotion, as he’s loath to apply suncare during the day, but the combination is working well. His skin has been clear and blemish-free for a couple of months now – he used to get the odd spot almost fortnightly. He also favours Caudalie Lip Conditioner (having tried Clarins, Chapstick and Neutrogena) and liked Lancôme’s men’s range too – in particular the face wash. New likes include Kiehl’s Eye Alert, which he’s been patting on in the mornings and the Shu Uemura Depsea Moisture Replenishing Cream – which he went through at an alarming rate. If it weren’t so expensive, I’d have bought him a new pot. At bathtime, believe it or not, he’s cleaned me out of MOP Basil + Mint Shampoo and Conditioner. It’s a great formula for his fine hair and he likes the herby smell (that’s his stifled chef talking), even if I’m not too fond of it. That’s another bonus, not only does he provide me with valuable male insights, but he also Pac Man’s his way through my growing giftbags – clearing space for future finds. And though these insignificant scenarios do not form the core of a stable relationship, it is certainly a flawless foundation for a marriage of cosmetic convenience. A-men.

#10 Pong Whiffy…

I remember my first PSE lesson at school, which long before the inflatable tampon and condom + banana tricks, involved a lesson in the body and its natural, well, pungency. We were taught that once we had all reached puberty, our bodies would start to produce stronger smelling secretions and if we were not careful, if one did not have a can of Sure about their person at all times, that one of us – any one of us – might well fall victim to the dreaded, toe-curling, whisper-inducing, ‘B.O.’. Having B.O. at my school was the most rapid and assured way to commit social suicide. Two well-developed twelve year olds took it upon themselves to sniff out the offenders every morning – laughing and yelping, rolling on the floor with pinched noses, if they caught a whiff of anyone who had forgotten their daily spray. We all lived in fear, no, terror, that one morning, or, god help us, after a triple sports lesson, our bodies would plot against us and produce a malodorous current, picked up by a particularly well-tuned nose, that would result in immediate and non-negotiable dismissal from the group. It is for this reason, I believe, that I have a mortal fear of my own smell. Mr Malcontent – ever the smoothy – once called it ‘soupy’, ‘but,’ he said, trying desperately hard to redeem himself and his chances of late-night-loving, ‘I really like soup.’

Nowadays, I take no chances. I love the sea-fresh smell of Bionsen Spray and Roll-On – spring breezes can waft my armpits at will – I smell good. The same, however, cannot be said of all. B.O. I have learned, is not just a social stumbling block for pre-teen girls. It is also a common characteristic of the overworked and underwashed professional man.

Too many summers have passed and I can remain charitable no longer. The weather is getting hotter, tubes sweatier and BY GOD, the men in their manmade fibres are stinking up the entire carriage. It’s April 21st and already, there have been five culprits – all ages, all sizes, all suited and booted and half-asleep – wreaking to High Holborn. The problem, I have come to realise, is not necessarily personal hygiene. It is, rather more simply, a matter of laundry. Many men are not washing their work clothes often enough and a large percentage are wearing the same shirt, suit, tie and coat from Monday to Friday. Which means that if you happen to find yourself on a tube in Friday morning rush hour, packed into a burly bloke’s armpit – trying desperately hard to shift your olfactory centre in another, less savoury direction – you are, in fact, privy to a week’s worth of recycled reek. Nice. So, come on guys, get your households in order, stock up on the suds and do a wash once in a while. It'll be worth it. After all, The Lynx Effect is one thing, but in reality, there’s nothing sexier than a freshly laundered, crisp, clean, white cotton shirt. Now that’s my kind of Bom Chika Wah Wah.