Beauty Armoire Monday: Tria Age-Defying Laser – a little ouch, a lot o’ awesome

Trying to get artsy w/ my still-life photog...

Trying to get artsy w/ my still-life photos. Tres belle, oui?

You know when you’re officially une femme d’un certain age when you have long, drawn-out text exchanges with your [also borderline-ancient] buddy about exactly what can – and cannot – be done about naso-labial folds.

And you know you’re officially a hoarder when, post-text exchange re: naso-labial folds, you go rousting around the inner recesses of your Beauty Armoire (the big one, not Baby Beauty Armoire) for a little something to help with the problem. And mid-roust, you stumble upon a spendy gadget-gizmo you received roughly two years ago and have yet to crack open.

That spendy gadget-gizmo is a Tria Beauty Age-Defying Laser. And mine is so circa-2013 that I don’t think they even make this model anymore.

Meaning they’ve moved on from this rather sedate white version to the much peppier lavender number splashed all over the company website.

Still, old is good, right? For both people and beauty gadget-gizmos you’re only just now cracking open and using for the first time?

Although my web sleuthing informs me the lovely lavender Tria Age-Defying is way better than my first-generation white guy, I kinda don’t care. I’m on a mission, and that mission is: To use what I have. There will be no buying (well, extremely limited buying) until I work through everything I already own.

Okay, on to the (vegan) meat of this post: What this baby actually does for a living.

Although I was gifted my Tria Age-Defying by a publicist, I can’t, at this moment, manage to put my mitts on all the press info that came along with it.

Thus, I was forced to watch a how-to video on the Tria website, and pore over a rawther lengthy PDF.

I’m only a week into using it – and yes, mine was free, so I may not scrutinize its performance to the same degree as a mama who plunked down 500 smackers for it – but here are my initial conclusions:

1. It’s very sleek and streamlined, and doesn’t take up a lot of bathroom-counter real estate.

2. It charges really easily and really quickly.

3. It doesn’t require the use of any type of conductivity gel, as with the NuFace. I’m sure the NuFace kicks –s (my Girl Beauty Genius™ pal Tina Hedges swears by it), but I really don’t like using that special gel. Any time I’ve ever slathered it on, I’ve just felt sooooooooo sticky and blech).

4. It hurts pretty bad – so bad! – even on Level 1, so you feel like it’s actually working. (I know I described it as “a little ouch” in the headline of this blog post. I lied.)

5. My skin looks a little tighter and glowier the morning after.

If you’re thinking of buying a Tria Age-Defying, I urge you to read both the good and bad reviews on Amazon and There are plenty of both, which might make your head crack open from all the decision-making stress, but at least you’ll have done your due diligence, non?

On my end, I hope I can be as diligent with my Tria-ing as I’ve been with my medivisualizing.™

Although, pleeeeeze, what’s actually more “age-defying” – some lasery gadget-gizmo or medivisualizing™?


No contest.



Round of applause, pls. Since New Year’s, I’ve meditated* every day except one. Holla.

Wait - can Buddha be an Xmas ornament???

Wait – can Buddha be an Xmas ornament??? I don’t think so.

Calm down, people. I knooow it’s not hip to say “holla” anymore. I just like to fake you out and have you worry and fret about whether Momover Lady has lost her Cool Factor. And – holla – Momover Lady has so not lost her Cool Factor.

Okay, I have Beginners Tennis at exactly 0900 hours, and I have to get the Wee Lass breakfasted and off to school by 0800 hours, so I better chop chop right through this here blog post.

On y va. Allez-y. Let’s go!

Faithful Momoverettes might recall that I don’t meditate in the classic sense, but instead rely upon my own special mashup brand of meditation-slash-visualization.

Oooh…let’s coin a new term, shall we?


Trademarking that right now, and you are my witnesses:


For all I know, medivisualizing might already be a thing, and I can’t in fact trademark it. After I get back from Beginners Tennis, I will scour the World Wide Interweb to follow-up and determine the exact status of medivisualization…

Anyhow, I have this whole process involving crashing surf + lighthouses (yes, lighthouses), which I’ve blogged about before:

RELATED POST: Am I meditating or visualizing? And does that matter? 

So, after many, many stops and starts, it is with great pride that I tell you that I’ve medivisualized every. single. day. of 2015 except one.

The one day I didn’t medivisualize happened just last weekend, when Team Momover Lady headed to Innisbrook, the severely awesome golf + tennis resort in Palm Harbor. Loved it. Highly recommend, if you live nearby. Or even if you don’t live nearby and happen to be super into either golf or tennis. Tbere’s so much to do, and seven pools, and if you’ve got little fishies like my little fishy, those seven pools are a godsend…

Back to my, ahem, spiritual practice.

While I’m not making excuses (okay, maybe I am making excuses), the reason I didn’t medivisualize the first night we were at Innisbrook is because my CD player kinked-out. I listen to an ocean-surf CD to help me slip immediately into my happy lighthouse place, and I think I’m little too over-reliant on it.

By the second night, I just sucked it up and medivisualized without the CD player. And guess what? It kinda worked. It didn’t work as well as it does with the CD player, but it kept me in the habit.

Although I dropped-out of Leo Babauta’s fabulous Sea Change habits-building program (because I’m perhaps the laziest, most hedonistic people-person on the planet and not keeping up was giving me a raging case of the guilts), I did learn some of the core basics.

These are my takes on the core basics of habit-building; Leo would be much more eloquent and powerful in how he distilled them for you:

1. Do a little every day. Every single day, no exceptions, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

2. If you miss a day – even though I just told you not to miss a day – just get right back to biz immediately. Don’t smack-talk yourself. Just get back up on that pony and ride, mama.

3. Once you’re in the groove, and tackling whatever it is you’re tackling (like, say, exercising or medivisualizing™) on a regular basis, up the ante. Add a few minutes. Try harder.

My mission now is to embrace Step 3, upping the ante. Trying harder. Project!





So Team Angie. (And so Team Every-Other-Mom-Dealing-With-Health-Issues, too.)

The babe and one of her babes.

The babe and one of her many babes.

I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to have six children and feel like a deadly disease is gunning for you. And when I read Angelina Jolie Pitt’s op-ed in the New York Times this morning – about her decision to, once again, opt for a pre-emptive strike against cancer by having her ovaries removed, I just felt very, very sad for her.

I’m guessing pity isn’t quite the response Jolie Pitt was after. As with her first NYT op-ed, released in 2013 after her decision to have a double mastectomy as a block against the BRCA1 gene mutation, she’s all business here; walking us through her decision-making process, disclosing that she will now be entering menopause at the decidedly young age of 39.

She opted to have her ovaries removed, but not her uterus, because uterine cancer is one of the few female-specific biggies she has no history of in her family.

But Jolie Pitt’s new disclosure isn’t really about her, per se. She has a massive platform, and she’s using it to show other women that they have options, and choices, in how they deal with a perhaps unfair genetic hand they may have been dealt. She also acknowledges that her decision was made easier by the fact that she’s already had children.

And she is in no way pushing her particular path:

“A positive BRCA test does not mean a leap to surgery,” Jolie Pitt writes. “I have spoken to many doctors, surgeons and naturopaths. There are other options. Some women take birth control pills or rely on alternative medicines combined with frequent checks. There is more than one way to deal with any health issue. The most important thing is to learn about the options and choose what is right for you personally.”

Jolie Pitt rattles off statistics, and medical terminology, in a matter-of-fact manner that almost – almost – belies the fear she must feel. And for every moment she – and every other mother on the planet – has lived with the anxiety that they may not be around for their children, my heart goes out.

Peace, mamas.


How is it even possible that Jane Fonda still struggles with her confidence? Jane. Fonda.

That hair should be in the Smithsonian. So good.

That hair should be in the Smithsonian. So good.

Do I harbor an outsize girl-crush on La Fonda?

Oui, guilty as charged.

Um…in fact, I may have written a few blog posts about her over the years. (See handy dandy list at the end of today’s missive.)

Given my obsession, it’s a minor miracle that, waaaay back in December, I somehow missed a flurry of World Wide Interweb chatter about Jane’s crise de confiance.

It’s also cuckoo crazy that I wasn’t – until now – a faithful reader of her blog.

If I had been a faithful reader of her blog (did I mention that I am now?), I would know that she herself wrote about her shaky confidence. Those comments, in turn, were picked up by a slew of websites.

It was in a post about her 77th birthday, on 12/21, and here’s the exact passage:

“I’ve found myself backsliding a bit of late in terms of where my thoughts have tended to reside (not always with the generosity of vision I wish for) and my confidence has been iffy for the past four months. So, while meditating today an idea came to me: I’m going to create a shrine to myself–or, at least, the self I wish to be, the self who began to manifest when I was a young girl before the shit hit the fan. I’m talking about creating a small place where I can put things that remind me, conjure up in me, the qualities that represent my best self. I will spend the new year collecting objects and symbols that will do that. One will be from my 4th grade school report. Things that remind me that I’m brave. I’ve been forgetting that. I will put a special candle on the shrine and burn sandalwood and put some special Native American artifacts that I’ve treasured over the years in honor of the Mohawk Nation where my Fonda ancestors built their homestead.”

Of course, that insightful, heart-felt take on her state of mind got distilled to “Jane Fonda Building Shrine to Herself!”

But I get that; websites need eyeballs in order to thrive, and if sensationalistic headlines pull people in to read about one of the coolest chicks of all time, I’m fine that.

Besides, it was one of those click-bait headlines that drew me in, too, right? That led to further surfing, which caused me to stumble on this great cover story in DuJour magazine.

In the DuJour piece (I think it was in the DuJour piece, but it just as easily could’ve been somewhere else – I do a lot of reading about my heroine Jane), Fonda says that, these days, most people just want to know about her beauty secrets.

Of course we do! She’s pushing 80 and looks incredible.

But I think I speak for many women when I say: Jane, we admire your insides and your outsides. And while we marvel at the fact that you can lack confidence on occasion, we applaud your efforts to course-correct and get back on track.

Vive le shrine! Here’s my digital one to Miss J:


1. I suspect Jane Fonda has implanted a chip in my brain

2. It’s so all about Jane Fonda, isn’t it?

3. Jane Fonda on Oprah: the worshipping starts here 

4. Not just another excuse to write about Jane again


Scary fried hippie hair – the before + after edition

I swear I deep-condition every week.

I swear I deep-condition every week.

My week hath runneth away from me already, so this blog post will be short and sweet.

But first allow me to publicly admit that I need fillers like nobody’s business. I look like I’m 90 in these “before” and “after” pics, and I’m actually several decades – several. decades. – younger than 90.

It’s officially time for me to get over my Fear of Needles and get on with the task of puffing up my face like a well-tended pumpkin.

Where is Fred Brandt when you really need him???

RELATED POST: Saving Face (mine, specifically) with Dr. Brandt

RELATED POST: Shocker: I totally chickened-out on the face reno

RELATED POST: I’m with Marina Rust on this fighting-gravity stuff

Okay, back to the hair.

Faithful Momoverettes know that I’ve been cursed with god-awful, naturally frizzy hair. It’s really quite shocking how bad my air-dry texture is. Although any stylist on the planet can take a blowdryer and turn it into shiny glass in mere minutes, when it’s left to its own devices, it’s basically straw.

Or “tree bark,” as my long-time New York colorist liked to call it.

Sooooo….now that I live in the land of 1000 percent humidity, you can imagine how much I’m struggling with it.

Should I go beachy? And long? Like SJP?

Sarah Jessica Parker is just a few years younger than me (read: she’s no spring chicken), so the fact that she’s returned to her 90s-era Sex And The City feathery ringlets is giving me hope.

Still, that’s a choice that’s fraught with danger. While long, wild hair can sometimes make an, ahem, older broad seem youthful, it can just as easily have the opposite effect.

But since you never know when you’ve officially hopped the fence from groovy hippie chick to wizened old crone – and most people in polite society will never tell you when you’ve hopped the fence from groovy hippie chick to wizened old crone – you’re often left to your own devices on this all-important front.

So in the spirit of not having a clue, I went for a sizeable chop last week.

And here it is:








It looks a little better, right? A tad less fried?

Man, I need fillers. Project.



Call the Beauty Police: I’ve been tanning. Deliberately. In the actual sun.

Dust off those winter leaves and you're good to go.

Dust the winter leaves off those chairs and you’re good to go.

I’m on a massive leave-New-York-and-move-to-Florida learning curve that’s routinely complicated by what I do for a living.

Which is mainly – not exclusively, but mainly – to write about beauty + wellness.

Here’s how my life’s work wreaks havoc on my daily life:

On one hand, I “know” the sun is very, very bad for us.

On the other hand, I also know – really know, no air quotes necessary – that, with the exception of hurricane season, when the heavens open up and dump torrential rains at a moment’s notice, it’s crazy-sunny around here. Perhaps that’s why they call it The Sunshine State?

Other intel:

1. I’m in legs- and arms-revealing attire most of the time – lots of shorts, oodles of V-neck tees. For my weekly Dali Museum docent-training classes, mass and the occasional schmancy dinner, I also bust out a fair amount of skirts and dresses.

2. I’m becoming a tennis nut, and lo and behold, my lessons and cardio classes take place outside.

3. And the most important discovery of all:

During the winter down here, the bugs beat it. Which means, hello!, it’s a primo time to get your tan on.

Faithful readers might recall how totally freaked-out I was by all the bug bites my poor bod received after we moved down here last June. Duh. 1000 percent humidity is generally accompanied by swarms of mosquitoes and other flying pests.

So I did some recon, and found several excellent anti-bug remedies –  a few natural, a few not-so natural.

RELATED POST: Beauty Armoire Monday: New FLA life = whole mess o’ hair + skin dilemmas (i.e., pesky bug bites, epic frizz) 

But lately, something truly awesome has been happening: I can hang-out in our backyard, clad in not a whole lot – for hours! – and come back indoors with nary a bite on my bod.

Seriously, for the last four or five Sundays in a row, I’ve sat on a chaise in a bikini plowing through 8 million back issues of Harper’s Bazaar, Vogue, Porter, etc. –  without bug spray – and come away completely unscathed.

Have I damaged my skin in that time? Yes. That isn’t up for debate. By exposing myself to the sun, I’ve amped-up the aging process.

But sadly – I say “sadly” because I may live to regret this – I’m not as paranoid about skin cancer anymore.

I used to be obsessed – utterly, completely obsessed – with skin cancer.

RELATED POST: Got pretty tan this summer. Why? Why? Why? 

And for good reason – I’ve had multiple biopsies. And while none of them have been the real deal – aka carcinoma or melanoma – the dodgy moles and rough patches I’ve had sliced and diced by derms haven’t been nothing, either. There was definitely iffy tissue in the mix, the kind that could easily morph into something more treacherous had I not gotten it removed.

But right now, I have some extremely lame rationales for tanning again. And in the interest of transparency, I’ll list them here:


1. I’ve somehow convinced myself that 99.9 of self-tanners contain harmful chemicals that are every bit as likely to cause cancer as actual sun. (I don’t know that there’s any definitive intel on this. May be wishful thinking on my part.)

2. Vitamin D is super-good for you, and it’s ideal to get your daily dose from the sun. (Um, yeah, but I could probably get enough D in a quick lap around the block.)

3. I look better in my clothes when I have a “real” tan vs. faux. (Actually, this one’s probably true.)

4. I have two upcoming trips that will involve much donning of swimsuits, and I want to be “ready.” (Sure, I could get spray tans to prep for these jaunts. If it weren’t for Stupid Reason No. 1…)

5. It isn’t bug season. (I’ve already mentioned that? Désolé. It’s just that I feel compelled to take advantage of this moment, skin cancer be damned.)


I’m so klutzy and fall-y, I think I need to stop running outside. (Sniff sniff, sob sob…)

Behold the scabby gruesomeness of my left knee.

Behold the scabby, bruisey gruesomeness of my left knee.

I see these babes in my newly adopted FLA ‘hood all the time: Trucking along our palm tree-lined streets in sporty pink and orange (no black; black isn’t cool down here) tanks and shorts, often clutching tiny hand weights.

Slim, trim and determined, they’re almost always power-walking, not running.

And quite tellingly, these hot mamas aren’t covered in gnarly scrapes, scabs and bruises like running-addicted Yours Truly.

I think I need to stop running outside, and that makes me super sad. I just make far too much contact with concrete to justify doing it anymore.

Peep, in the pic here, the fading remnants of what happened to me earlier this month.

Sadly, this particular fall was a little freaky, because it didn’t occur while I was actually running.

I’d stopped at the curb of a cobble-stone street, watching as a golf cart – yes, a golf cart – with a family in it came barreling along.

“Hmmm, will this golf cart be STOPPING, by any chance?” I thought to myself. “Or will it take advantage of its non-car status and run me over?”

All of a sudden, a slippery dead palm frond I was standing on (they’re everywhere right now; it’s the FLA version of fallen winter foliage) started to slide out from under me, and down I went, crashing onto the surprisingly jagged cobblestones.

In other words, I was standing and STILL had a running-related mishap.

And here’s what made it even worse: I’d gotten lost while running and ogling the gorge houses on Brightwaters Boulevard, and Hubby had come looking for me in the car. 

When he finally found me, I’d already taken my slippery-palm-frond tumble. But I certainly didn’t want to let him know that. He can be a tad tsk-tsky and judge-y.

“Don’t you want to hop in?” Hubby asked. “You’ve been gone for like an hour.”

“That’s okay,” I replied, turning sideways to obscure my battered knee. “But thank you.”

If there’s an upside to this story – and there really isn’t one – is that the fall happened after a schmancy event we’d gone to the night before, for the opening of the “Monet to Matisse: On the French Coast” exhibit at The Museum of Fine Arts. Had it happened before the event, I couldn’t have worn the skirt + heels combo I sported.

That show – mostly small-scale Impressionist seascapes, a few even by Renoir – is truly lovely.

Having to finally part company with the one form of fitness that really clears out all the mental cobwebs and puts you in a completely Zen state is truly un-lovely.

And on that note, I’m walking out the door to go pick up the Wee Lass from school.



Sienna Miller in all her chiseled, girly Oscar glory. (Props to makeup goddess Charlotte Tilbury, bien sur.)


The dress? Fabulous. The hot mama? Even better.

The dress? Fabulous. The hot mama in the dress? Even better.

I used to be hideously envious of Sienna Miller. How could one girl be that cool and that gorge?

But then I read that January cover story in Vogue, and I changed my tune. Yes, she’s still unspeakably cool. And even more gorge, if that’s possible.

But she was so sweetly humble in that Vogue piece –  so “I’m pinching myself” about all the great movie roles she’s been landing lately – that I couldn’t help but be charmed.

Humility, graciousness and wide-eyed gratitude; no one ever talks about those beauty secrets!

Okay, Momover Lady is on a maje deadline, so I’m hopping right into the vegan meat + potatoes of this blog post: How makeup whiz Charlotte Tilbury – whose new line is blowing up on Net-A-Porter – gave new-ish mommy Sienna her movie star glow last night.

Voici, les deets:

1. Charlotte applied her Goddess Skin Clay Mask, a product Charlotte says “is the key to shrinking pores and tightening the skin, leaving you with a perfectly dewy, plumped and revived red carpet glow”

2. Charlotte’s Magic Cream – Charlotte’s “secret to red carpet skin”- and Wonderglow were applied to hydrate the skin and create a soft-focus which is “amazing for HDTV”

3. Charlotte then applied Light Wonder Foundation in 6 Medium and 7 Medium, then the Retoucher Concealer in 2 Fair under the eyes and 3 Medium for the rest of Sienna’s face

4. Next, Airbrush Powder Flawless Finish Powder in 1 Fair and 2 Medium was applied only to the T-Zone to control shine while keeping from taking away from the dewiness on the rest of the skin

5. To enhance Sienna’s eyebrows, Charlotte used Brow Lift in Grace K and Cara D

6. Rock ‘N’ Kohl Eye Pencil in Bedroom Black and The Feline Flick Quick Fine Line Shodo Pen were used over the lash line to dramatically define the eyes

7. Using her Eye Smudger Brush and The Eyeshadow Luxury Palette in The Sophisticate, and Full Fat Lashes, Charlotte accentuated Sienna’s “winged” eyes, focusing on the crease and lash line areas

8. To enhance the cheekbones, Charlotte applied Filmstar Bronze & Glow with the Powder & Sculpt Brush, following the hollows of the cheeks and along the jaw line with the bronzer and applying the highlighter shade to the top of the cheekbones

9. To further accentuate Sienna’s features, Beach Sticks in Moonbeach and Ibiza were used to illuminate and sculpt

10. To prep the lips, Charlotte used Lip Love Lip Scrub and Lip Magic. Charlotte Tilbury Lip Cheat Lip Liner in Pillow Talk was applied to mimic the pigment of Sienna’s lips and filled in with K.I.S.S.I.N.G Lipstick in Bitch Perfect

11. For an all over glow, Charlotte applied Supermodel Body on Sienna’s arms, shoulders, etc.

You can nab all Charlotte’s goodies on Net-A. Personally, I’m eyeballing the Beach Sticks. I think I need them in every color, starting with bronze-y Ibiza, here.





Lent for Dummies: So much more than running screaming from chocolate for 40 days


So cute. And basic. And perfect for me right now.

I’m not Catholic.


Rather, I’m Catholic by association. My mother was, my husband and daughter are. And as new-ish Florida residents, Team Momover Lady has gotten fairly involved with our local parish; the Wee Lass attends the world’s sweetest Catholic school in our ‘hood, and we’re faithful weekly mass-goers.

But I don’t do mass in torturous “shapewear” anymore. I’ve completely learned my lesson on that front:

RELATED: Spanxing at Sunday mass. Maybe I should just do planks instead? Or jump some damn rope? 

Soooo….when my lovely neighbor Lynn called shortly before Christmas and asked if I might want to join the Wednesday morning Bible study group, I didn’t hesitate to sign on. For four reasons:

1. Our meetings would be centered around the cinematic, Hollywood-y videos of Father Robert Barron, a rock star of the Catholic church.

2. As I’ve mentioned, I’m currently enrolled in the Docent training at the Dali Museum (yay! yay! yay!), and Salvador Dali had quite the conflicted relationship with Catholicism, as manifested in epic works like “Christ of Saint John of the Cross” and “Sacrament of the Last Supper.” (If you’d like to learn more about this fascinating subject, watch this lecture by my charming and erudite professor – Dali curator Peter Tush –  on “Dali & Catholicism.”)

3. The Wee Lass is immersed in learning the basics of Catholicism in school, and I want to keep pace.

4. It just sounded nice, and fun, and a chance to meet new folks. I’m always on the hunt for nice, and fun, and the chance to meet new folks.

Uh oh…this blog post is beginning to show signs of “mission drift”…better get back to topic at hand: Lent.

But wait, first, “mission drift”??? Did I just coin another new phrase? Trademarking that right now:

Mission Drift™

Okay, so because I’m not a proper Catholic, I have lots to learn. And one biggie is how to “do” Lent. I’m a Scorpio, and Scorps are all about transformation and new beginnings, so I’ve dabbled in Lent-sacrifice on occasion:

RELATED:  I’m giving up negativity (+ meat) for Lent

Last Sunday, on the way out of mass, I grabbed a packet of Lent info that was on-hand for parishioners. And inside was all kinds of kid-cuteness: Stickers, games, the sweet little activity book pictured here.

And there was also this realllllllly lovely list of suggestions for what one might consider sacrificing for the next 40 days, until Easter.

I’d like to share some of my fave ideas from this list with you now. Because no matter what you believe, they’re sure to improve your life and mindset.

These five really spoke to me, and very much play into the Momover Mission™ (no Mission Drift™ here!) of self-improvement:


1. Doubting you can change

2. Thinking of greener pastures

3. Looking for easy answers

4. Promising more than you deliver

5. Being bored

How cool is #5, right? It’s totally on us to make our lives exciting.

Allez-y! On y va! Let’s go!





Rodarte. Hair by Odile Gilbert. Using John Frieda products. DIY it, Miss Thing.

Eezy peezy lemon squeezy.

Eezy peezy lemon squeezy.


I’m nowhere near New York Fashion Week right now. Or New York, for that matter.


I’m very happy about that. Because where I am, it’s 70 degrees. Seventy degrees and pouring rain, but 70 degrees nonetheless. I’ll take it.

Still, I think this hair look from the Rodarte show earlier today is Capital G Gorge.

Of course it is; it was crafted by the greatest female hairdresser of all time, Odile Gilbert.

And happily, the little elves at John Frieda sent over all the deets to DIY the look in the privacy of our homes, be they in FLA or elsewhere.

Here you go, my lovely:


· Depending on your natural texture, apply either Frizz Ease Beyond Smooth Frizz Immunity Primer or Frizz Ease Dream Curls Air-Dry Waves Styling Foam to wet hair.

· Next, blow-dry while combing through with your fingers.

· Spray Beach Blonde Sea Waves Sea Salt Spray and work in with hands while diffusing.

· Once all the hair is dry, take random pieces and curl them using a 1.5-inch curling iron. Don’t touch the roots or ends with the curling iron. For the waves to look natural, run your fingers through them at the end.

· To finish, spray Frizz Ease KeraFLEX Hairspray to hold the style and brush through with a natural-bristle brush.