Annie Walton Doyle

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

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.

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

Remember at the start of the year, when we all watched a teenager with a mouth full of Juvaderm bizarrely reclining in front of a fire that looks l

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

If there’s one thing that makes me deeply proud of my generation (apart from our general anti-Brexit sentiment) it’s the newfound omnipresence high

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!

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

Can you partake in the beauty industry — makeup, tutorials, magazines, and the oppressive standards they impose — and still feel good about your self-worth?

Do you have a good side? I definitely don’t have a preferred “side.” I am sometimes pictures of myself for my job, and I don’t know which side is better.