Tag: nb

How To Wear Makeup In Your 30s, From Our Beautiful (Even / Especially When Bare-Faced) Pal Katherine

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(Ed. Note: Katherine [KG] is my Ariel of Amazon, the pal I was lucky enough to meet at MyHabit and slog through the ol’ 9 – 5 with for a couple o’ glorious years. We’ve bummed ciggies from randos outside a Dallas hotel at 1am, we’ve polished off an unnecessary extra bottle of red in bathrobes whilst in Seattle, and we’ve put actual advertising spend behind the syndication of this ridiculous (-ly awesome) video documenting a few of our other, very serious work endeavors. I really miss seeing her every day, especially now that she and her husband moved back to Milwaukee so she could take a new, kick-ass job. ANYWAY. I digress. I reached out to KG to BEG her for some beauty and makeup tips, since the girl always looks gorgeous and luminous and my skin looks like a piece of roadkill since birthing Bailey, no matter what I put on it. She humored me, in a big way, below. Tried the routine with the products I do have so far this am and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!)

“First and foremost, I believe nothing is more important than finding the right face wash for your skin. I’ve tried loads, and when it’s wrong, it entirely affects how my makeup looks. I need something that is sensitive yet cleans the (actual) crap out of my skin since I’m prone to dryness/flaking in some places, and oil slicks in others. I’ve been using Neutrogena Oil-Free Acne Wash for years, and it has triumphed through birth control changes, moves, job changes, NYC smog, and other acne-inducing life-ness that has been tossed my way. The little bit of salicylic acid goes a long way to keep my pores clean. Again, trial and error, this step.

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To (Re)Read, Guys: A Moveable Feast

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I’ve always loved to read. (COOL STORY, right? Bear with me.) My mother used to drop me off at the library when I was 8 or 9 with an actual brown-bagged lunch, and I’d spend the day alone, tearing through book after plastic-covered book, like the wildly popular kid I so clearly was. (Have actually thought about this a lot lately and often wonder if that was appropriate? Leaving a youngish child unattended for a five-hour stretch in a public place? Eh, it was New Hampshire, I guess.*) Nowadays my time at the library is spent taking advantage of the free WiFi, and my time reading is limited to the five or so minutes I can keep my eyes open after crawling into bed—but, oh Lordy, what a glorious five minutes those are.

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But What Does It Mean…

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…that the only image that, on its own, stirred anything within me from the legit PLETHORA of fashion month content taking over my social media feed is this D&G logo t-shirt and shiny mini skirt combo? (And by ‘stirred anything within me’, I mean enticed me to take a lazy snapshot of The Cut’s Instagram image of such and DM it to myself at 3 in the morning whilst breastfeeding.) Can I no longer fully appreciate or discern the serious art and skill behind truly designed fashion? Or am I just, now and always, a sucker for a tee tucked into a mini skirt? Is it the FLOWERS because they look tropical which makes me think of going to, like, Cuba or Guatemala? Or the bare legs, and summer?

Important questions, people, important questions.

The Literal ONLY Thing No One Told Me About Being A Parent

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Being a parent, I’ve realized, is basically a series of one cliché after another eventually ringing true – the very same clichés, mind you, I found so annoying to hear throughout my pregnancy, dispensed by friends and strangers alike, and disguised as advice. But guess what, guys? IT IS ALL SO TRUE. Just true in a way that isn’t obvious or interesting or useful until you are In It. “Enjoy that sleep now.” (DEAR GOD. NO COMMENT.) “You’ll never feel such love.” (I MEAN.) “They grow so fast.” (HOW IS BAILEY ALMOST SIX MONTHS OLD.) (NO, REALLY, HOW.) I now see that the longstanding tradition of speaking those clichés to every preggo stranger on the street is actually part of a greater effort to ensure that soon-to-be mama that she is not, actually, alone in the universe when she finds herself changing a screaming baby’s diaper at 4am on a Saturday night, unshowered and unloved and about to give up. These clichés are a support system in disguise: We’ve all been there, love. It will be ok.  Continue reading →

PSA: American Eagle Is Better Than You Think

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Anyone who knows me knows that I have ALWAYS bought the most essential part of my summer uniform – the denim cutoff – at American Eagle. Heck, ALL of my shorts at American Eagle. I don’t even know how I discovered this; it’s not a place I ever even shopped at the age one would ostensibly shop there. I’m guessing it came from desperation: I’ve tried Levi’s. I’ve tried rag & bone. 7forallmankind. Forever21. Acne. And not a pair in the bunch gave me what I was looking for: a pair of shorts that fit snugly but not too tightly, are shorter than I should maybe be wearing at this age and do not (and this ABOVE ALL) even closely resemble those dreaded, too-big mom shorts that I perhaps should be wearing at this age. Enter, if inexplicably, American Eagle.

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