In the end you're either a polish gal or a lacquer gal. Nail polish is a varnish to make them shiny (think Essie) and nail lacquer is a solution and is thicker in comparison. OPI is the latter. So if you love the languid feel of the gliding brush, OPI is for you. But beware- lacquer takes longer to dry. Give it an hour before you play hard and a good 4 hours to solidify, or horrors- the dreaded sheet marks. They have the market cornered with their inimitable range of colors and idiosyncratic names (personal fave: Nein! Nein! Nein! OK Fine!) and continue to impress with their technology. High end salons use it for a reason. OPI is the undisputed Grande Dame of polishes.
I cheat on perfectly talented hairdressers for no reason. But love means never having to say you’re sorry when you cut your bangs and don’t want a lecture but you’re embarrassed because there wasn’t even wine involved. So when John Frieda came back into my life, I squeed like a 14 year-old fangirl right there in the CVS hair aisle. See, John Frieda is the Guy Tang of my generation. And since I was growing out my timeless bob (code for mom cut) I decided to deepen my locks with John Fried Brilliant Brunette Visibly Deeper Conditioner because what mousy brunette wouldn’t want rich chocolate tones and brilliant shine? Plus it was safer than reaching for the orange handled scissors or answering the siren call of the Preference box. Coincidentally it was scrub shave and condition night so there’s that. With freshly smoothed skin and cleansed hair it was time to view the outcome of the first use. Result: My eye color popped. Second use: My brows popped. Third use: I may need a new lipstick shade. Looking for instant gratification? Wanting to feel rebellious? Hoping your husband will notice? Yes to all. John Frieda® Brilliant Brunette Visibly Deeper Colour Deepening Treatment
All hail L'Oréal Paris Elnett Satin Hairspray Strong Hold, the matriarch of hairsprays, the Grande Dame, The Queen Elizabeth, the haughty popular girl of hairsprays. The price made me pee my pants a little but I heard whispers that its obscure mystique caused beauty editors to don dark glasses and smuggle it back from Europe in the dark of night. After prepping and wanding my hair into somewhat pathetic beach waves I silently prayed to the perfectly coiffed woman on the can that her aerosol magic would indeed disappear at the stroke of the brush because I was already squinching my face in preparation for the tear inducing yank. Crackle and breakage crisis averted! I had visions of finally experiencing a good hair day in humid Florida. Noon- perfectly held tresses. Happy hour- model off duty vibe. That majestic gold can transformed my fine, limp main into a debutante ready to enter the society of really great hair. I bestowed a can to my 15 year-old currently in throes of teen hair angst and gave myself props for paying homage to the reigning hairspray legend.
In my childhood you were either a Crest kid or a Colgate kid. There were no other choices. For your cleaning the dentist had Batman Orange or Robin Cherry. There were no whiteners, flavors, breath fresheners, or tartar crushers. So except for a brief fling with Close-Up Cinnamon in the 80s I was a committed, monogamous Colgate gal. So imagine my feeling of betrayal when my connubial Crest husband came home with a 4-pack of Arm & Hammer Truly Radiant Toothpaste. It was Switzerland, he said, a neutral compromise. Arm & Hammer, I said. That’s what I use to deodorize the fridge and the litter box. And the man wanted me to put it in my mouth. Could a cake ingredient clean and whiten my teeth? Could I end a 45-year boring but comfortable toothpaste relationship? I had to admit the salty-savory taste and the compoundish gritty texture were compelling, and I felt a bit rebellious. Yes, queen, yes. It was love at first brush. This was not a one-tube affair. It was giving me feels I needed- a rock-n-roll experience, polished teeth and a whitened enamel I hadn’t seen in years. If you’re in a dentine rut, do yourself a huge and cheat on your current tube. Enjoy the rush.
Bain de Soleil tans and beauty pageant hair were customary in the excessively decadent 80s, so naturally sensationally dramatic makeup was standard. And while I've given up Aqua Net mall hair and Dynasty episode shoulder pads, I still proudly display a historically accurate face. So a pretty dang tenacious cleanser is necessary to cut through my carefully curated layers - they are anything but pure and simple. In 30 seconds my 20-minute morning ritual melts into an ochre tinted liquescent swirl. It’s strangely therapeutic to watch. Then I am 1992 waify naked faced, and as a free bonus raccoon eye mascara is expunged. No double cleansing, no skin-ripping toner step, no wiping off hairline residue on the white hand towel. Just a clean, purified, supple canvas. Which is mandatory when you to aspire to look like OG Alexis Carrington. Oh- and if you have the patience of Krystle, treat yourself to a couple moments just.inhaling.the.scent.