Sometimes I think the folks at Urban Decay have telepathic powers, that they have a Jean Grey-ish figure on payroll whose mission is to read the minds of brand devotees like myself.
Last time I visited Puerto Rico, my stepmom led me to one of the hedged shrubs in front of the house she’s been sharing with my dad for over a decade now and, dipping her hand into the thicket of leaves, plucked out this gorgeous white blossom and said, “Mira, una gardenia.” I caressed the velvety soft, yellowish white petals and, enthralled, leaned in to smell the tropical blossom, letting the sweet, feminine fragrance fill my nostrils.
Today marks the first official Monday in October (last Monday was September 30th so clearly it didn’t count), and QVC is celebrating by turning our “manic Mondays” into festive “mani Mondays.” Every Monday in October, then, QVC will showcase some of the most exciting nail art trends of the season in its Instagram feed, using the hashtag #qvcmanimondays for the campaign.
From the mid-1960s through the 1980s, you practically couldn’t open a high fashion publication — be it Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Andy Warhol’s Interview, Elle, the New York Times or — without stumbling upon a kinetic, flamboyant, colorful, vibrant fashion illustration by Puerto Rican artist Antonio Lopez.
It used to be that women obsessed primarily about acne, cellulite, and tiny lines and wrinkles — laugh lines, crow’s feet, those two vertical lines between the eyebrows that are colloquially dubbed “the elevens,” and so forth.
Aging is a natural part of life — and a beautiful one at that, much like any other facet of the human experience — but, that said, I will admit that I am shallow enough to never want to look old.
We’ve all tried our fair share of face masks — paper ones, mud-based formulas, peel-off types, brightening and exfoliating sorts, and so forth — but have you ever heard of a lip mask?
Think of the most sumptuous, richest, sophisticated, luxurious fabrics associated with the autumn and winter season, and you’ll likely conjure up images of jewel-toned satins and soft, skin caressing cashmeres.
Until recently, the last time I used ChapStick, I was riding shotgun in my dad’s El Camino (which was the color of chewed-up grape bubblegum), wearing the hideous Smurfs-colored plaid skirt, matching vest, and white button-down shirt required by my Catholic middle school’s uniform code.
Last night’s 2013 Emmy Awards was a bit of a snoozefest — there were the seemingly endless song-and-dance numbers (and, as someone who loathes musicals, these were enough to make me wince), the “upsets” that seemed designed to shock rather than to commend outstanding actors (Jeff Daniels over Bryan Cranston?
