Annie Walton Doyle

In the aisles of a drugstore, one’s instinct is almost magpie-rial. Glitter! Neon! Caramel-scented!

Inside everyone is a little bit of a Francophile, right? French things are just good and that’s that.

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

Let this idea appeal to your insubordinate nature: the world wants me to not like my face, so guess what? I’ve decided I like it. Take that, world!

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

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

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."

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.

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