Annie Walton Doyle

In life, there’s not much I love more than a good bitch. I’d take a mean, hilarious person over a “nice” bland-y any day of the week.

On the difficult and important topic of highlighter, I’m torn.

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

Of all of the supposed beauty “problems” in the world, for me, roots are really the least “problematic.” In fact, I love mine dearly.

You can’t fight it so embrace it: Fluffy winter hair.

There seems to be something about being a Millennial that is making me depressed. Our childhoods have left us particularly unprepared for the "real world."

Sometimes with skincare, it’s the satisfying science speak which lulls you into a state of security.

It’s official: I have bleached my hair to the point of no return. It can be bad: not cute and fluffy, but damaged and crazy.