Annie Walton Doyle

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

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

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

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

Those weird bendy rollers you’ve never used are actually a Hot Tip for adding texture to damaged hair.

During such trying times, there is one trusty frenemy whose shadowy presence always sneaks back into my life. Benzoyl peroxide, I wish I knew how to quit you.

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.

For a long time, I suspected that primer was a bit of a swizz. Makeup to go under your makeup, you say? Sounds very “Emperor’s New Clothes” to me.