Annie Walton Doyle

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.

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

Remember your first foray into the makeup world? Everything was more fun then. Colors were chosen in a magpie-like fashion.

It’s a prime example of what I’ve known all along: that the true crime interest and the niceness of a person are not mutually exclusive.

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

Lash stain: what the hell. Am I right?

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

I love spending money like a total asshole as much as the next woman. But sometimes, a cheap thrill is the most thrilling thrill of all.

There is literally no disadvantage to being confident. It’ll make you happier, more successful, a better friend, a better person.