Well, that’s refreshing

It’s often hard to tell what, exactly, a hair product does. Those in charge of writing the copy on product packaging like to claim that a single spray, cream or gel can be all things to all men and women, so much so that it can be hard to tell if it’ll do the one thing you need it to do. I often find myself frowning in Price Attack trying to figure out if this volumizing defrizzing texturising shine spray will smooth down my cowlick or not. I wish they’d be honest and admit there are only three hair products in the whole world: the sticky, the greasy and the waxy. 

Which is why it’s such a relief to find a product that does exactly what it says it does. Mop C System Curl Refreshing Spray actually refreshes curly hair. Let’s say it’s mid afternoon. You go to the bathroom, look in the mirror and realise this morning’s defined, bouncy, respectable curls have turned into a superannuated Jheri Curl. You are horrified. You take this spray from your desk drawer, give your hair a couple of curiously orange and aniseed scented pumps and your hair is defined again, legitimately curly without looking either sticky, greasy or waxy. You can also use this on towel-dried hair in the morning. My only gripe is that they really should have a smaller travel size, as I feel like something of a gimp carrying this massive bottle around with me. Either way, it is a rarely great product, and I shall certainly buy more when I run out. 

Nails this week

(in conversation with the lady I buy coffee from at regular intervals throughout the day)

‘Hey, nice nails, Rach.’

‘Thanks. I think it’s a bit bogan mother-of-the-bride, though.’

‘Nah, they look good. Besides, you could say it’s ironic. You’ve got the glasses for it.’

‘No, my glasses aren’t big enough to be ironic. They’re more Rivers Cuomo late 90s earnest.’

‘Really? So what counts as ironic these days?’

‘Big and round, like Estelle Getty.’

‘That makes no sense.’

‘I think that’s the point.’

‘I don’t understand the youth of today.’

‘Sigh. Neither do I.’

Nails this week are the peacock green shimmer of Bianca from Bloom’s amazing new nail polish range. I am completely retarded for these polishes. Not only is Bloom by far my favourite Australian brand, and not only are the colours so delicious and original they make my heart flutter, but the polishes are truly great quality. I’d personally prefer it if the brush was a bit wider, but that’s the minorest of quibbles. They’re $20 each, or $30 for two, so expect to see plenty more Bloom polishes around these parts. Bianca is a really unique colour, a genuine peacock blue-green with a beautiful shimmer. It’s definitely a Claudia colour. 

Also, please forgive the poor application here. I put it on quite hastily, cleaned it up then grabbed the nearest plaster bunny rabbit. Also, please let me know if you’d prefer me to be grasping the actual bottle rather than whatever happens to be around my desk in these pictures. 

Well, that’s a bit clever

I am very bad at removing my eye makeup at night. Don’t think I’m some kind of slovenly wench who doesn’t remove her makeup makeup at night; I do. I even cleanse twice. I just rarely use a separate eye makeup remover, and typically wind up with two attractive half-moons of mascara beneath my eyes for I’m too sexy, too sexy for my shirt, too sexy, it hurts etc. I used to buy Almay’s eye makeup remover pads, which were excellent, but I am bad at buying more when I run out. 

But I get the feeling I’ll definitely be buying more of QV’s clever little eye makeup remover.

I probably should have photographed it next to something for scale, but this little bottle is no longer than my index finger and not much thicker. It contains a highly concentrated, non-irritating makeup remover, and my quite sensitive eyes can back up that claim. But the best thing is it’s a spray. Two pumps and your cotton pad is thoroughly saturated and ready to roll.

But the best part for me is that you can also use this little spray to quickly de-gunge makeup brushes, just spray lightly and wipe on a tissue. Not only do I wake up without old mascara crusted beneath my eyes, but my brushes are clean. Great stuff. 

Who knew?

For those of you with curly-through-wavy hair, which I shall go out on a limb and label as THE MOST ANNOYING HAIR TO HAVE, I learned something monumental yesterday: don’t twist it up in a towel. For most of my adult life the first thing I did after getting out of the shower was twist my hair up in a towel, and for most of my adult life I was getting these Pat Benator waves right at my temples. Then I read on Whoorl, aka my new internet crush (seriously, this woman looks like the love child of Kristen Davis and Evangeline Lilly, and she’s funny) that it is best to blot out the water from curly hair, rather than twist it up.

I’ve done this the past few days, flipping my hair upside down and squeezing out the water with a towel, and I kid you not it has completely changed my hair. The Pat Benatar wave is gone, my hair looks fuller, the curls better. I am a changed woman, and shall never twist up my hair again. 

I need to break up with my hairdresser

Like many women, I have a tendency to be a bit of a people pleaser. I don’t like making people upset, and sometimes I have trouble saying ‘no.’ This is a problem when you’re in the hairdresser’s chair.

My hair has a chequered past. I have something of a square jaw; indeed, in most photographs I look a lot like Rutger Hauer chewing a toffee. I am also shortsighted and grew up in the time of Weezer, so I wear thick-rimmed squarish glasses. I also have my lower lip pierced with a vertical labret. I also have a tendency to make rash, emotional decisions about my hair. The thing is, with a face shaped like mine short hair always looks, well, a touch mannish.  As a result it feels like I’ve been spending years trying to grow out past mistakes, so I don’t end up getting my hair cut that often.

Since I moved to Melbourne I’ve had two hairdressers tend to my growing mop. One mercilessly cut my fringe to only a few stubby centimetres, giving me the look of a Victorian fever patient or lunatic asylum inmate. The other I’ve been going to for around six months, and when he’s good he’s very, very good, but when he’s bad he’s awful.

For instance, after telling him at length about how much I hated short fringes, and how traumatic it was to get a short fringe foisted on me, he…. went ahead and cut a short fringe. After I panicked he pulled some longer layers over the top of it, but still.  Another time I toyed with the idea of getting slightly darker lowlights in the bottom sections of my hair, but decided not to. He insisted that lowlights would look incredible, and foiled away. When they washed out I had a head full of dreadful, suburban mum looking dark brunette lowlights with bright, ash blonde highlights. I couldn’t be polite. When he pulled me in front of the mirror I blurted ‘what the hell is that?’ He fixed it the next day, and when he was done it was beyond perfect, but I just can’t take it any more. It’s been so long betwen haircuts that I’m beginning to look like some kind of glam rock silky terrier. This afternoon I’m going to see someone new.

I am, however, going to learn from past mistakes.  A consistent factor in all my past hair disasters has been a failure to communicate. Through trial and error, I now know what the main hairdresser communication problems are and how to prevent them.

• Go in with your hair washed and styled the way you normally do it. That way you can show your hairdresser what’s working, what isn’t and why.  For instance, I like the length I’m finally getting, and my colour, but I’m not crazy about the Pat Benatar direction the front layers are taking.
• Don’t be afraid to bring in pictures, or to mention celebrities. I love Marianne Faithfull’s hair. I love Zooey Deschanel’s hair. As a wavy-through-curly haired blonde, I love the venerable Sarah Jessica Parker’s hair. Tell your hairdresser what you love and why, and they should get a better idea of your sort of aesthetic.
• Own your prejudices. I hate short fringes. HATE. THEM. I also hate contrived, hairdressery looking highlights and mullets. Don’t be shy about what you despise. If you don’t speak up, there’s every chance you could walk out with the mid-90s layers of your nightmares.
• Be honest about your habits. Here is how I style my hair. I shower, towel dry, scrunch through some product and then leave the house. It’s literally the only way I can get my curls to cooperate, and I won’t let any hairdresser tell me otherwise. I need a cut that will look good when I style my hair the way I always have. If you’re not a blow-dry person, or a flat iron person, or even if you are, say so. Your hairdresser needs to adapt to your needs.

Well, I’m off to be the most demanding client in the world now.

Nails this week

 The venerable ‘Yoga To Get This Blue’ by OPI. To be frank, OPI’s cutesy names really grate on me, and ‘Yoga To Get’ really doesn’t do justice to how beautiful this polish is. It’s a deep, inky indigo with a subtle shimmer. It reads navy blue even in indirect light. It’s a keeper. 

Here’s a better picture of the shimmer.  

 

Please ignore the grody scar on my thumb. There was an altercation some time ago between a butternut pumpkin, a serrated vegetable peeler and my hand.  Needless to say, my hand lost.

I’ve been getting quite into nail polishes lately, not least because of Michelle’s inspiring blog. I’m finding that nail polish is one of those things that completely bypasses any mature, sensible part of my brain, going straight to my inner neon-obsessed 13 year old.  As such, every polish I’ve bought so far falls into one of three categories:  Polishes that would be worn by SBS news presenter and noted fashionista Lee Lin Chin:

 

Polishes that would be worn by cartoon superstar Jem of Jem and the Holograms:

 

 And polishes that would be worn by Stoneybrook Connecticut’s own trendsetter Claudia Kishi:

 As such, Yoga To Get is most definitely a Lee Lin Chin. 

Forestry in Tasmania

This is a subject that some may be squeamish about, so if the idea of, ahem, ‘deforesting Tasmania’ offends you, you may look away now. If you’re not sure what I mean here is a graphical representation.

 

If my good lady waxer is to be believed, most of us get this done. She insists it’s the biggest part of her business, and considering her speed and dexterity she clearly gets a lot of practice. I could go on at length about why this might be, and  I get the feeling it’s more of a Mary Douglas, matter-out-of-place, purity vs. pollution thing than anything kinkier, but I’ll leave that for another time. Today I shall talk about ingrowns, and how not to get them.  It’s common knowledge that you need to exfoliate to keep your pharoah’s tomb ingrown-free, but what you wash it with matters just as much. Last time I went my lady waxer recommended I use a tea tree body wash to kill bump-causing bacteria and also disinfect my exfoliating gloves, and I haven’t looked back.

American Crew Tea Tree shower gel is the business. It doesn’t have the medicinal smell you’d expect from a tea tree product; rather it’s citrusy and bright, yet subtle. At $22 it’s not cheap, but the gel is thick and foams well, so two small pumps is enough to do your whole body. I also appreciate the straightforward packaging.  But the best thing is its ingrown killing capacity, especially when combined with Skindoctors Ingrow Go. 

 Ingrow Go is basically a strong, alcohol-based salicylic acid solution, and you’ll want to wait a few days post-wax to begin using it. Trust me on that one. But the important thing is it works. It even kills that post-wax bumpy chicken skin look. At around $25 from pharmacies it is also not cheap, but one small bottle will last you a long, long time. 

 

It’s hard out there for a blonde

You know, it’s really hard to wear red lipstick when you’re a blonde.  I’ve heard some say that blondes should avoid red lipstick altogether, but I call those people killjoys.  Still. Brunettes can just slap on a good, honest whore’s red with nary a worry and still look like, well…

 

 But should I or any of my blonde sisters try something similar it’s all to easy to end up with something entirely different.

 

Shudder.  The red lip is a tricky thing to do, but it is possible.  You can do the red lip very literally, like these ladies:

  

 

 Which is just great if you  have a crack team of hair and makeup ninjas at your disposal, but not exactly practical for work or a low-key night at the pub.  But a casual red lip is doable if you’re blonde, and it can be so, so pretty and easy.  I’d never thought I’d say this, but this woman is my new red lip idol:

 You should look pleased with yourself, Sienna, because for a woman who has so egregiously abused lipstick in the past I shall now have you in mind whenever I reach for a bit of red to cheer myself up.  Look at how pretty she looks! So fresh and uncontrived and groomed and appropriate! She just about encapsulates all I have learned in my years of wearing red even though I wasn’t supposed to, which include:

 

•  If you’re a fair-skinned blonde, the ‘only emphasise one feature’ rule doesn’t apply to you. If you’re going to do a strong mouth you really do need to team it with a neutral but defined eye and a barely perceptible amount of bronzer brushed about the cheeks and temples. 
• Straight-up red is really difficult. It can often help to go a touch darker (I like Nars Red Lizard), or lighter, like Ms Miller, or even move away from red altogether. Nars Funny Face is a solid, matte blue-based fuschia, and it’s surprisingly wearable and contemporary. 
• I love a slash of liquid liner with a bare face, but not with full-on lipstick or it starts to get all a bit literal. At the moment I’m all over MAC Groundwork paint pot from the N collection with a tiny bit of black pencil liner worked right into the lash line paired with a strong lip. It really does balance your face more than a bare eye ever would.
• Failing all of that, strong, sheer lipsticks are your saviour on a lazy night.  A bit of mascara, a bit of lippie, a bit of blush and you look polished yet relaxed. At the moment I’m all over Eager, a MAC lustre. 

There you have it, my fellow blondes. Go forth and wear red.  

On Notice: Lush

Given that I long ago drank the Paula Begoun Kool-Aid, you’d expect me to have a healthy suspicion of Lush and their sanctimonious claims of all-natural organic superiority.  Sadly, no.  I was beguiled by their cute names, their scented stores, handwritten type, and remember the height of the bath bomb craze they created.  Despite my suspicion of any bath and/or body product that uses a lot of volatile plant oils, I still bought Lush gift packs for my nearest and dearest, and frequently browsed lazily through their stores without really buying anything. However, over the past few months I actually tried a few their products for myself and, you know what? Lush products are just. No. Good. They are poorly packaged, impractical, and are a textbook example of why ‘natural’ certainly doesn’t equal ‘good for your skin.’  Let’s do this dot point style, shall we?

•  Lush products are poorly packaged. Lush sure does love products in bar form, don’t they?  From their bar shampoos to massage bars to shower jellies and body butters, everything is in a cute, pretty little bar and wrapped in butchers paper, just like a deli meat.  Which is all well and good when you take it home from the store, but you need to be able to store the little bastards, and the butcher’s paper packaging makes that all a bit hard.  After you’ve used one of their bars once it immediately begins to dry out, crumble, or split, making it really hard to use again.  What’s more, it’s really hard to figure out what exactly their products are meant to do.  What, exactly, is a buttercream?  A shower jelly? A bar of body butter that you’re somehow meant to use in the shower? Are they soaps? Moisturisers? Exfoliators?  It’s hard to tell, really, and the staff really don’t have many answers.  And on that note…
• Lush products are impractical. The bar packaging is bad enough, but then they go ahead and put flowers and glitter and all manner of nonsense all over their stuff, which is pretty but doesn’t make for a clean bathroom.  And don’t get me started on their refrigerated skincare.  I know that’s meant to avoid the use of preservatives, but preservatives in skin care don’t have the power to strip paint, unlike the essential oils they so liberally use. Which brings me to…
• Lush products are really quite bad for your skin. I used their Pied de Pepper foot cream for a week or so.  It had an odd custard-like texture but smelled lovely, so I used it generously every evening until I came down with the worst contact dermatitis I have ever had in my life.  Both my feet and ankles broke into red, angry, itchy hives, so much so that I had to see my GP for prescription strength antihistamines.  On top of that, they provide a wide range of facial moisturisers with the same irritating essential oils, but absolutely no sunscreen, which makes no sense to me.  
• Lush employees give totally suspect advice. After the Pied de Pepper incident I gave Lush another shot, for some reason, and bought their Buffy body butter.  Now, Buffy is a largely unscented block of cocoa butter embedded with ground almonds and sand and so on.  You’re meant to use it in the shower to exfoliate. I asked the SA to explain how to use it, and she began with: ‘You know how Brazilian women have the most beautiful skin?’  Er, no. Way to Orientalise, hippy. Suffice it to say, Buffy sucks. It’s just not gritty enough to be a good body scrub, and the solid cocoa and shea butter just leave a waxy coating on the skin.  

I know Lush has quite the loyal following, and I doubt any of these observations will change that, but still.  Lush, you are on notice, and you shall get no more of my money.