Showing posts with label Liz Earle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liz Earle. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 November 2011

Tricks Of The Trade

(Dear Dadjokes and mankind in general. Prepare to be bored on a par with me having to watch back to back football while there's perfectly good The Hills reruns on MTV)...


Its nice to feel useful. Even though I write for the UK's biggest selling fashion weekly, proffering tips and tricks on everything beauty, I sort of don't believe anyone reads them. I've been sat on the tube beaming at someone who's reading my Tried & Tested page (there's a picture of me on it every issue), thinking they'll recognise me and maybe even compliment me on my expert knowledge/black and white photo. Hasn't happened so far, and since that photo is decidedly out of date and resplendent with flowing brown waves, I'm not holding my breath it'll happen any time, well, ever.

So the Look Good...Feel Better editors day was, aside from lovely, tiring, charitable, a bit tough in parts, (not least on the old vocal chords) also something of an ego boost. People paid money to come and chat to me. Ok so they got an amazing goody bag pay off, and maybe that was (majority) incentive for most, but still, a whole twenty minutes of me chewing their ear off about double cleansing and where to put their eyeliner was I hope twenty quid well spent. I realise the Irish one off the X Factor will be able to add at least a zero on that figure for her PA's, but I'm on the cusp...

I met 15 (lovely) women, and I said the same things to a lot of them, at their request, so it seems you lot have common concerns. Since not all of you could get to London in September, I may as well repeat myself one more time. And for free too! It is almost Christmas after all...


A Lesson In Liner:
When my lashes fell out, my face saviour was eyeliner. Varying between black liquid when there are some still there/growing back, to grey or khaki soft kohl or gel when nothing at all. Having worn glasses till age 27, I am resolutely rubbish at doing my own makeup. Glasses wearers who don't own those hotel magnifying mirrors will understand. So here's my trial and error trick:
Start in the middle of your eyelid. Groundbreaking, I know. Hold your lid taught, hold your liner brush almost parallel to your lashes, and draw a line from the middle to the outer corner. Its MUCH easier to control shorter strokes.
The inner corner is harder, so instead of drawing a line, press one instead. By this I mean open your eye a tiny bit, hold the brush along your lash line (or lack of lash line in my case) and press it onto the skin. Repeat till you reach the middle and voila, a perfectly linered eye line. (see how I sound like a beauty editor?)

Double Cleanse
It doesn't matter what face wash you use - and I can't recommend one for everyone since we all have different skin needs - wash it twice. I think of it like the first round cleans off the dirt and the second round cleans your newly exposed skin. Whether this is scientifically correct doesn't matter, it works. And although its an extra step to add to your already boring before-bed routine (I treat mine like a child who has to eat their broccoli), my skin has gone from unpredictably hormonal - I blame the Tamoxifen - to back to it's juicing, chemo bonus glory. Since you ask I use Ren Purity No 1 Cleansing balm when my skin's feeling dry, and Olay Daily Facials Cleansing Milk when its really dry. Yes dryness is my post treatment legacy.

How To Fake An Eyebrow.
Flicky lines. The trick is flicky lines like you're mimicking actual individual hairs. Remember how yours used to grow and draw them in that direction, starting from the top of your nose. Try very hard not to make my mistake and underestimate the distance from eye to brow. I spent my brow less months of chemo with a   very serious expression, born of nothing but my own artistic doing. Not only was it a surprise to see my brows grow back half a centimetre above my best estimate, I finally could express that sentiment too. The wonder of eyebrows...


Skip The toner
Unless you have serious grease issues - which I challenge anyone on chemo drugs to maintain - toner is the evil best friend to your skins needs. It dresses up as a positive influence in your skincare life, but secretly its sapping all the goodness out of everything. Adding is better, so either go for a nourishing spritzer like Liz Earle Instant Boost Skin Tonic, or even a serum like this one which may sound faddy and unnecessary, but will actually prep your skin to make moisturisers work harder and your face look all round better. Which is what we're going for lets face it.


Blush Is Best
For everyone, I don't care how old/fun/makeup shy. Blusher is face Viagra. It is basically the key to faking good health and my ticket to avoiding consolatory stares in the IPC elevator for the last 9 months. Something with a very slight shimmer, and a colour that's not too pink or too bronze is best. I just so happen to have developed the perfect one in our LOOK makeup range. Handy that. There was an opportunity, I took it... Look Beauty Make Me Blush in Flush.

OK men, you can tune back in again now...






Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Know Your Enemy

I now know mine, her name is Doxetaxol, she is trying to foil my LGFB plan. Curses.

I've passed the half way mark in my treatment, (yey!) at which point they sometimes change your drugs, which they did mine, hence the introduction of The Enemy.

Aside from the various not-so-pleasant side effects, which have moved me to kitten posts etc. it is undoing all my hard work on the LGFB mission. Namely, I look worse and frankly, feel a bit sh!t. Oh, and I'm writing this from the hospital where I'm currently residing.




It's nothing serious, my immune system went from compromised to utterly obliterated for some reason (enemy related), so here I am, literally chained to my bed by the drip that has been going for 24 hours and counting - I have to call a nurse to let me wee/pass me an apple/turn on the fan. Actually, I need to see this as a room service-esque upside, instead of the Terribly British downside that has me holding my wee/gazing longingly at apple etc. because I'm embarrassed to make medical professionals run around after me.

So all that aside, I have been somewhat dismayed to see my Look Better crusade unravelling. It's a two-fold problem this one. Firstly I can't be bothered to bother. This is fine, it happens to the best of us often in this situation, but it really hit home when Katie took me to Sainsburys in Dalston (eurgh. This could be what put me in here), and I forgo'd wig and makeup for just bobble hat. Again, fine, but I just don't go out like that. I'm not ashamed, but I don't like people to see or think me sick, and I've always been that way. This is basically my reasoning for the LGFB philosophy after all.
But DALSTON Sainsbury's, this is the hub of all uber trendy creatives. There are countless people I know whom I would rather didn't see me in flat shoes, let alone bald, distinctly more Swedish-ish and blotchy. And these acquaintances are highly likely to be food shopping on Sunday too.

And Yes, blotchy. It's a bit harder to tra la la about how to look better when the drugs are really really attempting to make that impossible. But it is NOT (is the moral of this story), but harder, definitely. And I accept the challenge!

So, I already knew chemo was tough on your skin - I had a post planned and I'll still do it, but this is now advanced skincare 101, and intermediate will have to come later...

My once milky, then fake fake tanned hands were happily showing off YSL rings, and even up to filming makeup cutaways on the LOOK how-to videos. Now they're mashup, as DadJokes coined it. Take away the manicure and they could belong to Tommy Hillfiger after his Axl Rose encounter (I will never stop loving that story). But manicure? That is lesson one: extreme diversion tactics. Katie came round and gave me an indescribable greige base with gold glitter tips. Greige-ish is the best colour either of us has ever found, a ltd edition by Nails Inc called London. I am badgering Thea Green, founder of Nails Inc to make it main line, but till then They do a close second called Porchester Square. This is not just about looking pretty, The Enemy makes nails hurt, crumble, even lift, so painting polish is apparently good to protect them too.




The Hillfiger effect is from extreme Sahara dryness and apparent inflammation upon contact with dust particles. This I conclude from being in possession of hands at all times, but repeatedly missing the trauma that inflicts damage. There must be some angry and robust dust particles in my house judging from the effect they have. Hand cream helps! They just need TLC 24/7. I'm using a combo of Aveda Hand Relief (heh heh heh) and Boiron Homeoplasmine, a French emollient wonder cream. Any friend who mentions Eurostar plans to me gets a pharmaceutical detour added to their itinerary. It only costs about 3 euro too.

Face wise, call me vain in the face of Cancer, but I'm loathe to let the skin compliments drop off. I've been using Darphin Intral Cleansing Milk, followed by Liz Earle Super Boost Skin Tonic Spritz and Liz Earle Skin Repair Moisturiser. Now I need extra soothing and moisturizing and de-blotching so Ren No1. Purity Cleansing Balm is the pros choice (that's me), still with Liz Earle, but I'm also using Pro-Heal Serum Advance by iS Clinical, on the advice of Shabir from VictoriaHealth.com. It's like skin Viagra, not that I would know, but basically I think this stuff is amazing.

Like I say, the not bothering to bother thing is harder to combat, so for now I'm flipping it up like George Samson (!) and concentrating on feeling better. The looking good part can wait till next week.

I prescribe myself several imaginary baths until I can soak in the real things (a nurse just came and offered to help me wash, I will stick to imagining baths), and Internet shopping. If only the 3G in hospital wasn't as mind-bogglingly awful as the food...





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