Annie Walton Doyle

Writing my piece on the wonderful, amazing, superlative yet disappointingly evasive Seventeen Stay Time Foundation got me thinking.

It’s surely well known by now that the age of the heavily drawn on, perfectly angled eyebrow is coming to an end.

I think it’s safe to say that I’m coming to the end of my blond

The wonderful thing about knitting is that it combines mindfulness with mindlessness. You have to concentrate, sure, but you can easily lose yourself.

Not often am I willing to declare myself as any sort of spokeswoman, but I am happy to speak for all of us when I say: thank Baby J winter is endin

My struggles with eyebrows have been well documented over the years.

In much the same way I feel about my eyebrows, I feel perpetual dissatisfaction with my lips.

Take your makeup love to its logical conclusion via a sensory attack on all fronts. Smelling like old ladies' handbags and young ladies' dressing tables and powder puffs and lipstick bullets has never been so easy as it is right now. It’s the scent family I call "makeup perfume."

Self-care is a phrase so enthusiastically tossed about as of late that in many ways it has lost all meaning. In the same way “wellness” has gone, the concept now seems vague and fuzzy, somehow ineffable.

Aside from knitting and prescribed medications, beauty products are the thing that helps me out the most during a bout of depression. Sound crazy? Read on.