#23 In Pulchra Veritas...

Having been suckered into the Facebook boom several months ago, I have to say it's put more than a few smiles on my face. Old school mates, uni friends, work colleagues and long-lost acquaintances all in one bustling, social cyberspace that's far more fun than the clinical climate of Friends Reunited. Poking, gifting, messaging and scrawling overly emotional messages on a sibling's wall space are what it's all about and I check in at least once a week to see what's going on. My favourite bit so far? The inexplicable popularity of the cult community Caecilius est in horto, which not only reminded me of my wonderful, inimitable Latin teacher, but also the doomed lives of the Pompeian family, Metella, Quintus, Clemens, Grumio and the mischievous little dog, Cerberus, painted so vividly by the Cambridge Latin Course. Ah, it's nice to reminisce. But once you begin, you just can't stop, which is where I currently find myself...

The first item of make-up I bought? A clear, colourless mascara from Boots 17. Then a shimmering, nude pink from Boots Natural Collection and a little bottle of scent - once again from Boots - in a triangular bottle, with a black plastic lid, that was called something like Infinity, or Inspiration, or my sister thinks it might even have been called Atmosphere. I can't remember the name because it rubbed off within months of my buying it, but whatever it was called, it was fresh and icy with a sweet heart and I loved it so much that it went through three house moves with me - until I finally lost it about five years ago. Boots was my teenage make-up Mecca. I remember the slightly breathless feeling I would get on reaching the top of the escalator. My cousin and I would spend hours, utterly engrossed, smelling, testing, pouting and preening into the distorted foil mirrors that used to be stuck on the in-store display units and blow the majority of our pocket money there every Saturday afternoon.

A year later and I'd graduated onto eyeliner. Rimmel was my first - an unflattering minky brown that was too light for my complexion - followed by bronzing pearls from The Body Shop - a real extravagance at the time. The Body Shop was also where I had my first skincare experience. My mum noticed that I'd started to get spots - on the nose and forehead - so she coerced me into my nearest store, where I sat atop a stool, and had astringent, stinging solutions tried out on my pimples. I remember a brown, watery emulsion - with oats in it – with which I was advised to wash my face every morning, but it brought my skin out in heat rashes. I tried Clearasil too and used it for a month or so, before graduating onto a fruity, fragrance-free face wash from Holland & Barrett, followed by Oil of Ulay - as it was known back then. Eventually, I was a fully-fledged face painter and I wouldn't leave the house without painted nails, mascara, a white shimmery eyeshadow from Rimmel, a dusting of bronzer and a slick of edible strawberry lipgloss. I even had a set of brassy highlights put in by a family friend - how I loved them! - until a boy I fancied told me I looked much better without them and should consider prosecuting my hairdresser. First love snuck even more tricks up the sleeve - peppermint scented balm, tinted moisturiser (I used Botanics, which was an utterly fantastic formula, but sadly discontinued) and enough kohl to sketch canvases with. The joy of those first buys and the communal cosmetic summits we'd have in the school bathroom, exchanging face scrubs, lipsticks, mascara - dreading the end-of-lunch bell, when we'd have to run back to our form rooms for afternoon registration - once with a stubborn wax strip still stuck to my thigh.

That's what school was all about. Laughing till my sides split, experimenting on our faces until detention struck and (secretly) loving to learn about everything from Grumio's kitchen to Lady Macbeth's lost child. The classical crossed with the cosmetic. Aw, memories....

#22 Head Mistress

I’ve been trialling a couple of new Shampoo/Conditioner combos of late. The first is the new Frederic Fekkai offering – the Ageless range. First things first – the shampoo and conditioner are VERY pricey. That’s the biggest problem with Fekkai – his entire range comes with a premium – often prohibitive – tag. On the merits of this particular product though, I feel that it’s almost worth it. But £56 for both… mmm?…. Nah…forgeddaboutit. The upside? The shampoo is thick and nourishing. It lathers well and rinses clean away. Limp hair feels instantly fuller to the touch – even when wet. It also cleanses very thoroughly, despite having a nourishing formula. That’s my pet peeve with shampoos – formulas for dry or coarse hair tend to leave the strands with a residual, silicone sensation. This one doesn’t. The conditioner is good too. It’s creamy and strengthening, as opposed to heavy and softening – an unusual feat. My hair always feels very clean, strong and bouncy afterwards. The other combo is the new Crabtree & Evelyn La Source products. The Volumising Seaweed Shampoo is a bit of a Jekyll&Hyde. On first usage, it did give my barnet a noticeable boost, but on repeated use, it started to flounder as my hair became progressively flatter. Having said that, for those who want a daily hydrating shampoo this would score better. I could feel the avocado oil and shea butter in it – my hair and scalp loved it – but after a couple of days, it failed to create billowing bounce. The PRO column does, however, get a tick for smell. Not fruity or cutesy or sweet. It has a men’s-deodorant, salty sea freshness and keeps hair clean-scented for days. The Revitalizing Conditioner is nothing special. It’s a passable bog-standard texture that can be used every day, but it is neither particularly nourishing nor especially rejuvenating. As a buffer and to prevent the flatness brought on by the C&E Shampoo, I often went back to Bumble and Bumble Sunday Shampoo as it always leaves my hair thick and residue-free. I therefore rotate C&E with FF and B&B and also use Kevin Murphy Born.Again, Label M Repairing Conditioner and Phytojoba when my ends are feeling brittle. It’s a complex equation, yes, and it hasn’t given me hair that’s swishy enough for a shampoo ad, but it has kept it shiny, healthy and strong for some time. Which is just about good enough for me and my mane… until, that is, something else comes along and turns my head...

#21 Allo Allo...

So, the weekend was cold and soggy-socked, but the bed was big and the tub generous and Mr M and I had nothing on our hands, but time. Oh, and food. Large, rustic portions, molten soufflés, oven-fresh bread. Yum yum yum. The same can be said for the Korres Fig Body Butter I packed. It’s for very dry skin – I think I have moderately dry skin – but it was a real treat. Full absorption requires dedicated rubbing, but it’s worth it. A great winter cream – which lets face it, given our current inside-of-a-washing-machine weather, is a grudging necessity. Also good for soles, elbows and scaly arms. The smell is unusual. I can’t say that I really know what a fig smells like as I’ve always been frightened of their worm-textured flesh, but the cream has a sweet, not sugary, whiff that didn’t compete with my perfume. Another buttery treat came in the form of the new Phytojoba. It's got the sort of thick, gloopy texture that reminded me of the mud pies I made as a child, but is a creamy colour with a sweet orange scent. I coated my hair from root to tip, sank into a hot bath and rinsed ten minutes later. I got silky, smooth, shiny hair. If you’re prone to flatness or greasy roots, add it to the tips of your tresses only. Whatever you do, it will really diminish dryness. Then there was the Chanel Inimitable Mascara. I’ve got very long, very straight lashes, so wearing the black stuff tends to weigh them down and undo the work of my heated curlers. I tried it. The brush is one of those odd plasticky porcupine designs that purportedly coats the lash from root to tip. I think this would be better for shorter lashes – I can imagine the stiffness of the elastomer bristles working well when worked down to the root of the lashline, but for my spiders’ legs, it delivered nothing more than a nice, deep coat of colour and decent separation. Nothing groundbreaking in that. All in all, it wasn’t a bad weekend’s work. Two buttery thumbs up, one so-so hand shake. Not to mention enough lunching, loving and loafing to keep Mr M and I going till next May… come what may.

#20 Adieu Adieu...

Ah, the joy of the dirty… ahem… long weekend. A few days without beeping inboxes, vibrating phones, growing paper-piles… just me, Mr M and the sea. Admittedly, it’s only the English sea and the weather is predictably dire, but I am not disappointed in the least. I have a large tub, a king-sized room and 24 hour room service at my disposal and Mr M and I intend to make the most of it. Packing for this trip has been a guilty pleasure. I’ve been rooting around in my newly acquired Muji storage system, pulling out those samples I’ve not yet had time to test and packing them into three different beauty bags – one for skincare, one for body and hair, one for make-up. I’m excited and shall dutifully report back on the performance of this trip’s travel kit. Every journey requires a different selection. Summer is all about bronzers, highlighters, after-sun and deep conditioners. Winter ski: lip protection, hydrators, foot cream and eye balm. The UK mini-break, well, you need a bag to ward off the grey of the sea and sky. This time, I have taken at least one new thing for each category –the new Körner Face Mist, Korres Fig Body Butter and the Chanel Inimitable Mascara. I’ve also stashed Phyto’s Phytojoba Conditioner, which I’ve not yet tried, despite the range having been recommended to me for years. Rainy days may await, but as long as there is experimentation on the bathroom agenda, I'm happy.

#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.

#18 Cut to the Point

If I have to sit through that damned Gillette Venus advert one more time I fear I’m at risk of launching the remote control straight into the superficially smiley faces of those ridiculous, trampolining women (or myself off the balcony). For god’s sake. We’re talking about a razor here. That thing that gets left on the side of the bath, jarred with stubble and beginning to rust – the thing that we use to get rid of our underarm, leg and bikini bristles. It is not a glamorous affair. It is a necessary chore (and bore) and unlike the lasered legs in adverts, when I shave my pins, they’re not actually hairless to begin with. They’re uneven, furry and unsightly – nothing Goddessly about them. What is all this media crap being spouted all the time about every woman having an inner goddess? What bullshit. Inside every woman there is passion, mystery and power? Are they having a laugh? The ad’s producers should take a trip down to my local Wetherspoons on a Friday night to get a good glimpse of a real woman. She’s the one with a pint in her hand, wearing mismatched underwear, chanting the words to Robbie Williams' Angel with her best mate. Or she’s me, at home in the trackies and hubby’s T-shirt, watching Ugly Betty whilst snacking on peanut butter M&Ms. She’s not running along a beach, entering synchronised swimming contests or pirouetting through the air in a bikini. It gets my blood boiling to the point where I no longer care if it’s a good razor or not. It could be the Rolls Royce, the Dog’s, the crème de la crème... at the end of the day it’s still just a bundle of plastic and metal and I’m alchemist enough to know that even the Venus (along with every other mundane and ordinary device on the market) lacks the chemical componentry to turn a fleshy form into a golden goddess.

#17 To those who wait...

The gradual tanning market has gone a leedle bit crazy. I was already aware of the popularity of the products – I’m being sent at least three new ones every week – but it wasn’t until I wandered around my local Boots in search of Hayfever tablets that I realised the extent to which the market has shifted. There were shelves and shelves of the stuff. They even had their own section. No longer lumped in with the body creams or lowly, bog-standard self-tanners, gradual tanners are being sold in pride of place, popping up on every end-of-row display with explanatory signs informing us that it’s time we gave our bodies a daily dose of sunshine. On top of the in-store information overload, I’m also getting regular emails from ‘The Marketeers’ – those people who send out statistics in the form of lengthy PDFs – telling me that the ‘ladies’ are going crazy for a daily dose of hydrating colour that won’t stain, won’t rub off and won’t stink their partners out of bed. I, like most women it seems, like the idea. You can’t really go wrong can you? You rub it on. It doesn’t do anything too drastic. It doesn’t smell too bad. You just get on with your day and voila, after a couple of weeks, you’ve got a convincing glow that looks impressively real. Or does it? Well, just to be superbly irritating – it depends. Texture? Garnier Summerbody was too light in texture for my skin. I needed to use a separate moisturiser beforehand, or my legs reverted to their scaly ways. Scent? Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Natural Bronze Body Lotion smells even sweeter (and more artificial) than the original – as though they’ve packed it with extra teeth-jarring sugariness in an effort to mask the customary self-tan stink. Not for me. Many people love Johnson’s Holiday Skin – the gradual tanner that got the ball rolling. I picked the wrong time to try it as it made a small patch of eczema flare up into a persistent rash. I’m currently trialling Shiseido Daily Bronze Moisturising Emulsion. It says it can be used on both the face and body. I’ve only tried it on my legs, but it’s done a darn good job. It doesn’t smell bad either – in fact, I can’t remember it smelling of anything – always a bonus with tanners. I still chase the colour with a shot of cream on drier days, but that’s OK. Two days in and my pins have lost their customary pallor - far speedier than the colour served up by the competition, but without any tell-tale marks or missed bits. Good stuff. No waiting. Who'd have thought it?