exorbitantly overpriced yet surprisingly efficacious product of the month

No, no. Not this guy. Well, wait. I don’t know how much he is, nor his degree of effectiveness.

That sleepy/stoned looking dude is Dr. Stuart Kaplan, another “celebrity dermatologist” who’s shit out a line of pricey products. I don’t know about anything about him, except there is another Dr. Stuart Kaplan who is a neurosurgeon in Vegas, which I’m sure is a pain in the ass for both of them. Dermatologist Dr. Kaplan has a small line of stuff, most of which seems somewhat uninteresting and predictable. Neurosurgeon Dr. Kaplan may have a line of products too, but I hope none of us have any need for those kinds of things.

Regardless, one of my recent Sephora impulse purchases included Dermatologist Dr. Kaplan’s cute little lip mask and balm duo. I’m not a fan of sugar scrubs for lips — I don’t feel like they do anything. And I seriously despise dry lips. Not only does it feel and look gross, it’s impossible to get those little shreds of dry skin off without drawing blood. All around not cute. So naturally, I had to try this enzyme based “lip mask” with its twee little matching SPF 20 balm. The balm wasn’t bad — sort of minty with a perfectly mellow sheen — but it suffered from that funky sunscreen taste that all those products seem to have. I really dug the mask, but I managed to lose the tiny vial pretty quickly. It’s probably in the same place as my Becca mattifying primer, the other small loaf pan, and all the lost socks.

Despite only having had it for a few weeks, I missed it. The full size mask is FORTY EIGHT DOLLARS. This is stupid. I put it off, put it off, and put it off until my peeling wanton lips cried for resuscitation. I fucking ordered it, feeling like the biggest sucker ever. Okay. First off, the container is HUGE — one full ounce. The container is made of heavy glass and feels all fancy and shit. The smell is vaguely minty and the texture just lovely, thick and velvety. I’ll glop it on a couple times a week when I first wake up, making sure to smear it all around well past the lip line, and let it work its magic for fifteen minutes or so. It’s not burny or tingly, just feels sort of cool and mentholy. Then, when I wash my face, I’ll use the wet washcloth to scrub off whatever is left (usually not much, as a lot of it seems to get absorbed or otherwise disappear). They say you can leave it on overnight too, which I have yet to try*. I always rub whatever’s left over on my fingers into my cuticles, because why not.

The “plumping” action could certainly be due to the irritative effect of the peppermint extract, so, okay fine. There certainly is a little plumping action but what blows me away is the complete painless obliteration of every tiny shred of dry nasty skin. Just glorious baby butt smoothness is left in its wake. Total love! Insert lots of heart eyed emojis here! So even though I am thoroughly embarrassed by the admission that a $48 lip mask has become a ride or die product, so be it.

Do you guys have any favorite products or methods to eradicate the dreaded dry lip? Or how about any new embarrassing product admissions we haven’t yet discussed? Come on, enable me.

*although I may try wearing it overnight this weekend, since there is a certain Halloween costume that is going to require a dark lip, which sort of makes me itch at the mere idea.

you’ll shoot your eye out, kid

I rarely go to the mall anymore. I don’t have time, and let’s be honest: it’s annoying. It’s crowded and loud and it’s virtually impossible to walk past one of those pretzel places without stopping and inhaling 800 calories’ worth of buttery, warm, soft bread and gooey faux cheese. But, desperate times call for desperate measures: my inability to locate satisfactory gray jeans online made me do it. (I don’t care how many points they’ll give you at Nordies, I am physically unable to pay $200 for jeans. JEANS, people. Who wears jeans anymore anyway? I only have them because I need an intermediary for casual Fridays, because leggings won’t fly.)

Like moths to a flame, my estrogen-powered GPS delivers me to Sephora with nary a conscious thought. Naturally, they don’t have the one single item I want to swatch, Nars blush in Dolce Vita. There is a sad empty spot where the tester was, and no product in stock. Bastards! Derailed, I find myself swatching $35 tinted lip balm and getting flustered over which shade to get because every single one is so perfect. I am also juggling two bottles of nail polish and am on the precipice of needing a basket, which I try to avoid because that’s when all hell breaks loose.

Because I’ve scrubbed my dirty little hand with makeup remover to get rid of all traces of blush, foundation, and other shit I’d slapped on it, I need to find a sunscreen tester to reapply before the drive home. (Yes, I am THAT obsessed.) I stumble across some testers on a lonely end cap at the very back of the store, but am immediately distracted by this magic spray, Supergoop Defense Refresh Setting Mist SPF 50. Sets your makeup? Matte finish? SPF-motherfucking-50?? I basically drop everything, shake the hell out of the bottle, and spray. Perhaps I am mislead by the word “mist”, but it feels like someone nailed me in the forehead with a spray bottle of water on full blast, like you’d do to reprimand a cat who’s trying to eat your houseplant. Flustered, my hand-eye coordination, whose baseline is special-needs 12-year old, goes all to hell as I deliver the next blast with my eyes half open. Holy SHIT!!! Who needs pepper spray when you have this!? Now I am blind and unable to examine the effects of what felt like a 6-inch soaking wet patch right on my forehead. This, of course, is the precise time a Sephora employee first approaches me, even though I’ve already been fucking around for twenty minutes in the store. NO-I-DON’T-NEED-ANY-HELP-THANK-YOU. I stumble to a mirror and am surprised that I look (relatively) normal. A little greasy dewy maybe, but that’s not unexpected by noon. Certainly not matte.

I take this minor trauma as a sign that my time in public is up for the day and get the eff out without further incident (impressive, considering the checkout line and general state of confusion of the lone employee behind the counter). (Side note, am I the only one that gets all judgy about other people’s points? I hear said confused employee go to the customer ahead of me, Well, look at that! You’ve got THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY POINTS! What sample would you like today? and I’m mentally scoffing Three sixty? Pfffft. Okay, lightweight, outta the way already.) (I was really, really thirsty, like hangry but thirsty, and my eyes were all burnt up, so cut me some slack.)

By the time I get home, I am all tuckered out from road rage, so I have some soup and take a nap. Many hours later it occurs to me that I should check on the status of the Supergoop. Look at this! The little makeup I’d put on this morning is still there (except for the brows, but they’re usually the first casualties) and somehow I look really dewy, and NOT greasy! Hashtag no filter/nap hair, ya’ll! Maybe I need to get this death spray after all.


If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too

We all know that celebrity endorsement is a marketing tactic most successful with 13 year old girls (see: Kardashian hair products/makeup/self tanner) and risks backfiring when the association of some celebrities may actually be a deterrent (see: above). Allure magazine recently played a nasty trick on some hairstylists by disguising the labels on the Kardashian hair products before putting them to the test. They said most of the stuff was meh but were surprised by a couple of standout products. (Somewhat surprisingly, I was still not tempted to try it myself despite the rave reviews, another testament to the power of the Kardashian name.)

Upon playing with a sample of Kat Von D Lockit Foundation that came in both (ahem) this week’s Sephora orders, I was surprised to see a product that lived up to its (quite lofty) promises despite being celebrity endorsed (and by a cheesy celebrity of questionable decision making ability, at that). The stuff gives serious coverage and lasts for damn near ever, without a chalky or matte corpse like finish. The sample shade (48) was too pink for me but the tidal wave of grease on my face oxidized it ever so slightly to almost perfect. I felt a little grandma wearing foundation that actually looked like foundation, but this would be a nice weapon to have in the arsenal for times of dire straits. (read: It would have been nice to have this last week when my face was covered in bruises from the PRP injections.) Here it is, 12 hours after application, no primer. I took this photo in the direct blazing 5 pm sunlight which we all look like shit in. Amazing how much is still there. 

Now I feel compelled to go check out the rest of Kat’s line, as much as I don’t want to admit it. Again, fuck you, Sephora.