“How Many Products Does This Person Have?”

I used to review products for a living.

Another lifetime ago.

If you’ve accidentally seen more than one of my messy makeup or skincare sinks into a sink now, and thought: “How many products does this person have?” …. That’s fair.

But the hallways and stairs of boxes on boxes of my past feel a far cry from the somewhat-minimalist, control freak of now. Products driven to the last drop. If a drugstore risk doesn’t pan, my girls inherit and cherish what remains; pawn to palm to pan.

That’s still how I feel when a sink stops me from sinking.

My older sister gives me a cream she doesn’t like and it’s like gold in my hand. A way we connect across time, and text, and sisterly tensions. No matter what’s going on in our lives: one skincare recommendation message from her and the world melts away. I feel… seen, deeply, in a way that “How are you’s?” can’t always achieve. We are no longer people who mess up or say the wrong thing… but just giddy little souls, cased in skin.

It makes me wonder what gold I’d leave behind to define. A dessert island design that goes with the Granny (not the grain): Vaseline or baby oil to cleanse with micellar water. A Buf Puf here and there, as a glowing digital-Gran recommended.

Niacinamide, or essences for repeat hydration. “Tret on wet” (though I continue to wonder about retinol and if it’s as magical as we say, but studies and science support it?) Albolene and overnight masks. Most often, Noxema. (I like going to bed smelling like a koala). Even my “zombie style” face mask (currently using Desert Oasis by Proot) once a week fills a void that fillers and facials cannot (for lack of paycheck, to be fair).

I want to Iris Apfel my face (not take myself too seriously and embrace the everyday as vastly as I choose), but I live for anti-foundation products to the end (tinted moisturizers, balms, between). If you say the word “balm”, or you’re marketing a no-foundation foundation, or you are L’Oréal Telescopic mascara: I will wed you.

I haven’t perfected a thing… but maybe that’s the point. The Apfel. The play. Sisters across distance. Giddy little souls cased in skin…

Longing to connect from sink to sink.

Tomorrow is a special piece of writing and video-ranting just for Substack readers. Thank you for all that you do and helping me continue to work, find autonomy, and connect!

I can’t wait to keep launching film and music reviews, as well as interviews from some of my favorite fascinating people (soon to come), from chronic capsule wardrobes to boss betches between.

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