Archive for the ‘Armoire Mondays’ Category

Here’s my well-intended but ultimately misguided new habit, which is putting a dent in my bank account while simultaneously not putting a dent in the overflowing stash spilling from the hot pink bins and buckets in my Beauty Armoire: I get an idea in my head – “Let’s try sparkly Kyle Richards eyes!” – and then proceed to round up all the necessary gear to make that idea happen.

And more often than not, I end up buying something.

This is not brills. I need new beauty products like I need a hole in my head. And I don’t need a hole in my head, because I have a hard enough time as it is keeping all my marbles trapped inside my fake-blonde noggin.

Like so many of you – please, I see the search-terms you use, don’t play coy – I’m mesmerized by the disco-ball action on Kyle’s upper lids. And this season, she seems to be glittering around the clock, no matter what manufactured scenario we “catch” her in. No task is too mundane, no outfit too schlubby for the full-tilt eye glitz.

It’s unnerving, but fascinating, too, like viewing some exotic and vibrantly marked creature in its native habitat. I recently caught the last few minutes of “Birds of the Gods” on the Nature show on PBS, which was all about the spectacularly plumed and multi-hued feathered beauties of paradise in New Guinea. Immediately, I thought of Kyle and her sparkly eyeshadow.

So in preparation for a chicks’ cocktail hour for my friend Vix’s birthday, I decided to try to glitz it up myself. Building my little project around my new Tom Ford Eye Color Quad in Silvered Topaz, I started scrolling through my mental Rolodex: Do I have the right brushes? Where are my brushes? Will I need to pick up a few new ones to get the right look?

Um, no, Momover Lady. You will not need to pick up a few new ones to get the right look. (But of course I did. More on that shortly.)

First, on a trip to Target for the express purpose of picking up new undies – but I couldn’t deal with the chaos of those shelves, I need order - I considered buying a Sonia Kashuk eyeshadow brush. “Wait a minute,” I said to myself, “don’t you have the equivalent of a warehouse of Sonia Kashuk brushes at home?” Yay! Saved myself $10 bucks, or however much that little number was.

But today, on a run to the mall to fetch those undies I so desperately needed (six pairs of Vicky Secrets’ lace thongs in nude), as well as a gifty for my pal Vix (sssshhhh…it’s a yummy box of Godiva), I foolishly popped into Sephora.

Ka-ching.

I am now the not-proud owner of a Slanted Eyeliner Brush, a Classic Double-Ended Flawless Complexion Brush for applying foundation and concealer (not that that has a damn thing to do with creating sparkly eyes, but I just had to have it) and a bottle of Daily Makeup Brush Cleaner to spiff up all the brushes I already owned.

Grrr…I could have saved a whale with that money. And I should have saved a whale with that money.

Okay gotta go get Kyle-sparkly for Vix’s girls’ bash.

For those of you eagerly anticipating my first-ever Downton Abbey recap, alas, this isn’t it.

Hubby would only let me watch the first hour before he called lights out, and then proceeded to scroll through roughly eight zillion financial websites on his laptop before officially shutting down Hubby + Wifey Central.

Grrr….

Thus, I must watch the second hour tonight. And while I was literally screaming at the telly during the initial 50 minutes – poor Bates and Anna! – I need to get the full lay of the land before I can do the episode proper justice.

In the meantime, I simply must sing Elizabeth McGovern‘s praises from the rafters.

She was always gorgeous; that isn’t even remotely up for debate.

And now she is an equally luminous 50-year-old woman who is giving hope to all of us who aren’t completely convinced that shooting our faces full of Botox and fillers is the best way to sail into our futures.

Granted, I have no idea what McGovern, who plays the warm and charming matriarch Lady Grantham, does of a beauty nature. For all I know, she’s at the dermatologist for injections every other week.

But I doubt it. Because unlike so many actresses, she actually looks her age.

Of course, when she’s in a scene with the crinkly-fabulous Maggie Smith, McGovern looks like a young hottie in comparison. But when she’s with her TV daughters she just looks like a blissed-out, well-dressed mama hen clucking over her unlined chicks. The antithesis, in other words, of a Real Housewife jamming herself into a pair of bedazzled jeans.

Last night, while I was watching McGovern, I wanted to reach through the flatscreen and give her a massive hug for showing us there is indeed another way to go about this aging business. Writing this blog post is the digital version of that thank-you snuggle.

It’s becoming a dastardly annual ritual: A raging head cold to ring in the New Year. (Oh, and a happy happy one to you, btw. I just know 2012 is going to be amazing for all us Momoverettes.)

After partying with our upstairs neighbors on Saturday night, then scampering down to our pad to flip on the telly and watch the ball drop in Times Square, we lay low yesterday – me hacking and wheezing and working my way through a box of Kleenex until I just couldn’t take it anymore and downed a shot of fluorescent orange DayQuil.

I’m all about the Quils when I get a cold. DayQuil to get through work and chores, Nyquil to sleep – albeit in a weird, druggy haze filled with bizarre-o dreams about flying saucers and whatnot. I don’t think there’s a whole hell of a lot you can do about a cold once it arrives, so you might as well deep-six the symptoms with chemicals.

Also unspeakably helpful in making you feel 1000 percent better: C.O. Bigelow Cold and Flu Soak Herbal Formula No. 122

As I was toweling the Wee Lass off after her shower last night, she said, “Mommy, why don’t you take a bath in my tub? I can help you.”

She and I have this little ritual, involving a bin of bath soaks and salts stashed in my Beauty Armoire, which resides in the landing / playspace area by her room. She loves to play mixologist, dumping a dash of this or a pinch of that in the hot water as it’s swirling. But her most favorite part is sitting on the side of the tub and dipping her toes in the bubbly H20 and chatting with her mama.

At first I wasn’t especially keen on the idea of a hot bath – I wanted to hit the hay and watch an ep of my latest obsession, Upstairs Downstairs - but when I spotted the Bigelow, I reconsidered. And within seconds, we were pouring that in the tub, along with Dr. Teal’s Peppermint Foot Soak and Kneipp Classic Herbal Bath Eucalyptus. Oh, and for good measure, a splash of Dr. Hauschka Sage Bath.

Perhaps it was the special alchemy of all that additional natural sinus relief – the peppermint, the eucalyptus, the sage – mixed in with the Bigelow that did the trick. Or maybe it was mostly the Bigelow itself.

All I know is that my on-the-fly sicko spa bath utterly worked. I felt relaxed and decidedly un-stuffy as I watched the butlers, maids, cooks and footmen whip the fictional 165 Eaton Place in Belgravia, London into gleaming order. A round of applause, please, for almost-six year old girls and their brilliant suggestions.

An early Xmas prezzie arrived in the form of some truly stunning Tom Ford makeup and one of his gorgeous artisanal scents, Jasmin Rouge.

That Ford has crafted impeccable, covetable beauty products isn’t brandy new news; in-the-know types have been swooning over his richly pigmented, grown-up lipsticks since the 2010 launch. And the full range of maquillage, as well as a tightly edited collection of skincare items, made a rather splashy debut at Bergdorf Goodman last month – helped in massive part by a personal appearance by the dashing designer himself.

Happily, I’d been thinking it might be time to step away from the girlish glosses – at least occasionally – and embrace full-on lipstick again. Ford’s super-hydrating numbers feel great, with a texture that isn’t madame in the slightest.

And clearly I’ve been watching too much RHOBH, because I immediately thought of Kyle Richards when I clicked open the Eye Color Quad in Silvered Topaz.

But here’s what I didn’t expect to happen: To get so taken with the line that I would spend quite a bit of Q-time on the Bergs website, as well as Ford’s company site, learning more about it.

I’m in love with this earnest video, in which Ford discusses his beauty philosophy. It’s a message of glamour and polish and putting your best foot forward, all of which I heartily applaud. He and I are the same age, so a lot of his cultural touchstones – that hyper-glossy, Studio 54-era makeup and windblown hair – are mine as well. I was weaned on late-Seventies Vogue and Bazaar, and all those glamazons. And right now, as I type this post, I can see not one but two copies of Scavullo On Beauty in my office bookcase. (Hard cover and paper, natch.)

If I have two copies of Scavullo’s seminal book, I’m sure Tom has ten. Thank you, Mr. Ford, for bringing all that glamour and luxury back – in spades.

Tomorrow I’m having lunch with my new writer pal Julia Somewhere In Transition Barclay. (Someday I’ll stop referring to her as Julia Somewhere In Transition Barclay, but for now, she’s Julia Somewhere In Transition Barclay.) And I intend to bring her a goodie bag stuffed with beautifiers.

Not that she needs them; this isn’t an indictment of her looks, which are lovely.

Rather, it’s that thing we gals do. We gift. Or, in my case, we re-gift from the cavernous recesses of our Beauty Armoires.

Because she and I don’t know each other that well yet, I only have the most fleeting cues to go by: She has long hair. It’s blonde. She doesn’t wear oodles of makeup, but I’m sure she’d appreciate one or two items along those lines. And skincare.

Yes, I know; it’s a little weird for one woman to give another woman skincare. But since Julia Somewhere In Transition Barclay and I are exactly the same age (whatever, I’m a few months older), I have a sneaking suspicion what some of her complexion concerns might be.

So right now, I’m going on a fishing expedition. When I return, I’ll report on what I nabbed for her.

Okay, I’m back. And I’ve collected:

1. Aveda Damage Remedy Restructuring Conditioner

2. Comfort Zone Renight Recover Cream

3. Tata Harper Restorative Eye Creme

4. Caudalie Vinosource Quenching Sorbet-Crème

5. Murad Eye Lift Illuminator

6. Shea Moisture Organic Raw Shea Butter Soap

And a…

7. Set of Sonia Kashuk makeup brushes, kinda like this one

There, I think she’ll like all that. And it won’t be too taxing to lug all that into the office for her. Yay. A win-win, as they say.

I have a problem with beauty compliance. AKA stick-to-it-ive-ness. AKA ADD. AKA I get super-excited about some new potion or gadget, use it for a spell and then wander off, only to get super-excited about some other new potion or gadget. In that regard, I’m like a two-year-old confronted with a pile of shiny toys.

With entire categories of beautifiers, this compliance stuff doesn’t matter. Like, say, with makeup. If you’re using a particular blush one week, and then switch gears to another brand, or formula or shade, the Earth will not stop turning on its axis. Really. It won’t.

But if you’re itching to solve an actual beauty dilemma – e.g., brown spots or frizziness or thyroid-induced bald patches in your brows (grrr times a million) – you kinda gotta stick with the program.

First, of course, you need the program. That’s why, last Monday, after I blogged about the wonders of matte bronzing powder, I moved “Find That Damn Missing neuveauBrow” to the top of my Beauty To Do List.

And after a lengthy search, I finally fished it out of my Beauty Armoire, along with its kissing cousin, neuLash.

It’s at this point in the blog post that I’m supposed to tell you that these were given to me for free, right? I sort of don’t get that whole “I didn’t pay for this” scenario, because I certainly never felt any such disclosure obligations as a magazine editor. But whatever, Momover Lady is perfectly happy to move into the 21st century, kicking and screaming. Besides, I spend tons of cash-money on beauty products and services, so it’s not like there’s never any shortage of stuff to write about that I did pay for.

Wait – is “for” a preposition? And am I therefore, grammatically speaking, not supposed to end a sentence with it? Sheesh. I’m a mess. First I get a bunch of free beauty products, and then I have the audacity to end a sentence with “for.” And looky there, I just did it again.

Okay, so back to these two baldness-eradicators, and where compliance fits into the mix. Of course now I can’t find the brochure that came with the neuveauBrow (where is Iris, my Clutter Whisperer, when I need her?), so I was forced to visit the website to find out how long I might need to keep at it before I start seeing some bald-patch fill-in action. Thankfully, the site has info on both products – lash and brow – so it was essentially one-stop info shopping.

So here’s what I learned:

1. In the testimonials section, Anne from Florida, age 60, is a happy, bushy-browed camper. And Daniele’s endless lashes are distracting her co-workers to such a degree that several corporate projects have now been derailed. (I embellished a bit on the end there, but Daniele is distracting her co-workers. She said so herself.)

2. Results for neuveauBrow can be seen “in as little as four weeks.” For neuLash, get set to distract your own co-workers in approximately 30 days. Hey, four weeks and “approximately 30 days” are basically the same! Close call. But at least this admitted math moron caught her mistake before she hit “publish” on this blog post.

3. Ouch, they’re quite spendy. For a 60-day supply, the neauveauBrow is $100 and the neuLash will set you back $85.

That’s actually a lot of dough. So I really need to stay the course and report back honestly to you Momoverettes about whether I think they’re working. So far, I’m eight days in with both of them. And while I thought I saw some regrowth on my “problem brow,” it was just a mirage (or wishful thinking.) Hold on, if you’re a thirsty camel in the desert, a mirage is wishful thinking.

Feeling very bubble-headed this morning. Bubble-headed and bald-patchy.

As we speak (or, more accurately, as I write and you read), there’s an entire fleet of handymen in front of our condo building, converting what is cheerfully known as “Elephant Plaza” into an ice skating rink.

They do this every year, moving the water-spouting Daddy, Mommy and Baby bronzey-brassy pachyderms off into the bushes nearby, along with the curvy stone tables and benches that the neighborhood nannies are camped-out on all day, every day, during the warmer months.

And over the next week or so, those same worker bees will build-out the rink, put down the ice and cover the adjacent concrete with rubber mats so all those would-be Johnny Weirs don’t destroy their blades.

I feel sad. Not swallow a handful of pills sad. Or even max-out the credit card sad. Just a little blue because it’s so official: The winter is upon us and the elephants are in the bushes.

So just now, as I was rousting around in my Beauty Armoire for that darn neuveauBrow (we’ve reached a crisis point with the thyroid-induced bald patch, and I know it’s in there somewhere), I came across about 90 other unopened goodies I want to try.

Beauty Junkie, thy name is Momover Lady.

But one product, in particular, will help me make the mental leap from Elephants to Ice – Lancôme Star Bronzer in Natural Matte 02 Sunkiss.

There’s a way to use bronzing powder in winter that reads more Hot Mom, and less Exotic Dancer, and I’d like to think I’ve perfected that technique. Here, my rules:

1. First, make sure your mug is very moisturized. Color on top of flaky skin is a massive no-no. Blech.

2. Next, even out your complexion before applying bronzing powder. Since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, I’ve been dabbing Bobbi Brown Foundation Stick on any stray bits of redness – around the nose, chin, etc. I go through tubes of it. And I pay for it myself, which should underscore how addicted I am.

3. Only bump up your natural color two shades, max. My Lancôme was gifted to me by my publicist pal Patricia, who knows how ghostly pale I get this time of year, so the shade is mellow and manageable. And don’t even think about going the sparkly, shimmery route right now. At least not during the day; if you want to be all lit up like a Christmas tree at night, that’s your prerogative. But as long as the sun is shining, hit the matte.

4. Use a super-fluffy brush to apply it. You want an all-over wash of color, not a 1970s “contouring” vibe. (Though contouring is making a comeback, because it’s pretty brills for optically slimming noses and carving sexy cheekbones, sans surgical scalpel. Fodder for another blog post…)

5. Add a bit of blush on top. That looks sooooo purdy. And don’t forget a swipe of lipstick or gloss, perhaps in one of those universally flattering nudey-rose shades. It’s probably just my age (sniff, sob), but I can’t really get away with bronzing powder and blush without some lip action. Momover Lady needs some lip action.

I think it’s pretty safe to say that I have a deep and abiding obsession with chemical peel pads. I once pitched a two-page magazine story about the wonders of the little white exfoliating discs, and I had absolutely zero trouble finding enough things to say about how ground-breaking and life-changing I find them to be.

(I know – I need to get a life. Immediately.)

After a quick scan of these here Momover archives, I see that I’ve blogged about a whole mess of peel pads, including Peter Thomas Roth, Arcona, philosophy and Colbert MD.

Well, say hello to the hottie du jour: Dr. Dennis Gross Alpha Beta Peel Extra Strength.

I can’t tell whether I’m happy or sad that I discovered them on a recent wander through Sephora. On the plus side, I’m in serious like. On the minus side, I’m in debt. Not really. But they aren’t cheap, that is for damn sure.

And between the $200 Refissa and the $85 robo peel pads, my skincare shopping cart is getting a little spendy these days.

But maybe this is my new normal. Maybe I’ve turned some sinister corner and I’ll never not need the razzle dazzle provided by my beloved Refissa and my peel pad of the moment.

Whatever. I’m just super-duper glad they were concocted by the mad scientists in the beauty labs. Love you, mad scientists.

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she needs to push aside her pricey OTC miracle cremes and clear some shelf space for the guns-blazing prescription stuff.

For me, that time came this summer. Actually, my moment of truth arrived a lot earlier than that, but I managed to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich about it for quite a while. It also came in handy that my eyesight isn’t amazing and I refuse to wear glasses. If your vision is sorta lousy, and you squint whenever you look in the mirror, you are perpetually 27.

Try it; denial is not merely a river in Egypt.

But for whatever reasons, I’ve been facing the music lately. Kinda. I could definitely benefit from some more invasive dermatological intervention. But I already tried that to do that, and I completely caved before any filler-filled syringes were actually waved about.

Wuss, thy name is Momover Lady.

Not that all was for naught: Along with an ill-defined desire to learn to age gracefully, I got something powerful out of my near-needle experience: A prescription for Refissa. Snap. I’m in love.

Though it can’t help with sagging and loss of volume (two huge bummers attached to advancing years) Refissa, which is a moisturizing spin on retinoic acid, addresses the third ghastly hallmark of aging skin: Discoloration, fine lines and that crepey-ness that comes from too much sun and champs.

It’s pretty mild – containing only 0.05 percent of tretinoin, the prescription-strength vitamin A used in Retin A. Still, that’s more than Renova (0.02 percent), the earlier ramped-down version of Retin A. And it’s a hell of a lot more high-test vitamin A than you’ll ever find in a drug- or department store retinol product.

Which isn’t to say that retinol products are a waste of time, because they aren’t. Several are really fantastic. But they don’t contain 0.05 percent tretinoin. If they did, you’d need a prescription to buy them.

Perhaps you’re not where I am, face-wise. If not, by all means dive into a big vat of RoC or philosophy help me.

But let’s say you want to raise your game, and give those little brown spots and sun damage a swift kick in the pants. Or a gradual kick in the pants, if, like me, your skin only likes to be Refissad about three times a week. Just call your dermy doc and go for it. You have nothing to lose but the third ghastly hallmark of aging skin.

The other day, I went to collect a UPS package in the lobby of my condo complex. And when the doorman went to fetch it from the mailroom, I heard the intercom on his desk start to crackle and sputter. And of course, I was all ears.

Besides twiddling my thumbs, what else would you expect me to do but eavesdrop?

“The eagle has landed.” Crackle, crackle, sputter, sputter. “I repeat: the eagle has landed.”

Wondering when I’d inadvertently moved into a James Bond movie, I signed for the box and headed back upstairs. And as it turns out, it was filled with free beauty products, as so many of the boxes in my life tend to be.

E-listen very closely: I AM NOT COMPLAINING. I’ve had a mad love affair with beauty brews for decades. Two of those decades I got paid to conduct my dalliance with all manner of cremes, powders, lotions and potions. But for at least another 10 years book-ending those decades, my obsession has been precisely that: A form of acquisitive madness.

Some gals are into shoes. I’m into Sephora. And spas. Spas with kick-ass shops.

But when I originally conceived of Beauty Armoire Mondays, it was with the grand design of emptying mine. Of using the products I love, discovering hidden treasures lurking in all the boxes and bags crammed inside, and getting rid of the rest.

It wasn’t about getting more and more additions for the testing pile. That’s why the “getting rid of the rest” part of this equation doesn’t seem to be working very well. And that’s why my Armoire Monday posts have been sparse of late.

I needed a better game plan.

The eagle had to land. And start making some decisions about what stays, what goes, and what gets re-gifted to the nanny.

Thank god the nanny’s back. It’s been a fun summer with the Wee Lass, but I need to have another grown-up woman in my midst, one who would looooooove a constant stream of beauty goodies.