You know when you’ve just started dating someone and everything is fresh and exciting and full of promise and sparkle? You make plans. You make all kinds of crazy meals for them and almost set your kitchen on fire just to prove you’re The Whole Package. You make weird photo-shopped scrapbooks of your future kids’ weddings. (Just me? No, I’m kidding, and if you do this maybe seek some help from like a counselor or something. Put down the RomCom, pick up an axe and go chop yourself a tree, build yourself a stool and sit and think about your issues.) You see no flaws in them. You see only beauty, grace, a perfect, airbrushed canvas on which to thrust your every hope and desire. You catch yourself staring at weird parts of their body (back of the neck, crease of the earlobe, armpit) thinking GOD YOU’RE PERFECT, I WANT TO LICK YOUR PERFECT EARLOBE CREASE, COME OVER HERE, HOWEVER DID I LIVE WITHOUT YOU BEFORE NOW.
I get that with products a lot. I get handed a sample for a new clavicle bronzer, or an eyelash moisturizer, or a scented hair powder or something equally superfluous– something that I’ll look at and think “Fine, I will try you, but there is no way you are making it into the permanent rotation happening in my too-small vanity cabinet because I am PRESSED FOR SPACE and you are UNNECESSARY and oh, wow, that is really nice packaging, are you scented with Japanese Cherry Blossom? Oh, fuuuuuuuuuckkkk…….
I’m having that right now with these two completely dissimilar products that are kind of useless to me in my real, everyday life, but suddenly the thought of living without them seems ridiculous and rage-inspiring.
This stuff is very strange. It’s wonderful and strange and smells straight-up medicinal, so naturally I’m in love with it. (I once asked a sales assistant at Sephora to recommend some products scented like Eucalyptus or Pine, and she kindly suggested I leave, head over to CVS and pick up some Vick’s Vapor Rub. She saw into my soul, that bitch.) I have an odd love of anything that smells like it might be prescribed to those who have weak lungs, or that smells like it’s supposed to heal you after you’ve thrown your back out. My lungs are fine, my back is strong…I don’t know what the whole obsession is about, I just try not to look too closely at it, you know? Just accept it. Move forward. Buy more Vick’s.
The scent in this particular cream is a solid dose of Camphor, which I love, and which fades away almost completely after a few minutes so you can still interact with society without people leaning in and asking you why you smell like a fine bath salt. The texture is like something you’d find in an antibiotic. And it’s very, very thick….almost like a wax.
Have I sold you yet?
I know, it sounds disgusting, but in truth it’s like a much thicker Bag Balm. You’re going to either love it or hate it. I am, clearly, of the former camp.
I put it on my elbows and my cuticles and my super chapped lips (FYI: most lip stains have a lot of alcohol in them, which dries out your lips and makes you look flaky and dehydrated and slightly undead. This, of course, does not deter me. I would put the blood of a roadkill corpse on my lips if you told me it would deliver a lasting stain, for reals. NO LIMITS. But it means my lips need an extra dose of moisture that Chapstick just can’t deliver.)
It’s refreshing and really, really delivers a nice vaseline-like coating if you’re into that sort of thing. It makes your skin as soft as a baby’s, if you’re into creepily comparing your skin to that of newborns. (A dangerous game, I might add.)
There is no reason I need this cream; I have like a zillion vaseline-like creams. In fact, I have different types of actual Vaseline that are scented with various essential oils– they come in little tins that I found in Ireland and smuggled back in the linings of my carry-on sweater because you know the TSA is not going to stop my moisturizing game, no fucking way, sir.
I don’t care. I love it. Lean close, smell my glistening skin: I SMELL LIKE A SPA. The end.
Product number two is this bad boy:
This here is the stupidest thing ever, for me, because I wear and own so many sunblocks that I could pass for one of those kids who are LITERALLY allergic to the sun and have to attend Camp Sundown, which is so sad and insane at the same time it makes my brain hurt. NO SUNSHINE EVER? Jesus. It’s like a Ray Bradbury story or something.
I wear SPF 100 every day. Every day, Yo! I put it on my face, put it on my neck, put it on my boob shelf, and I use body lotion with an SPF built in for the rest of my limbs. (Full disclosure: I live in Florida, which is just a walking advertisement for sunscreen…a place where you can pass a woman in the street and she’s either a young 58 or an old 25, but you can’t tell the difference. Pass the floppy hat.)
So there is NO REASON why I need ANOTHER special sun cream for my eyes! And yet.
Oh, this cream. This cream is silky. It’s liquid, but creamy. It smells EXPENSIVE, which I am all about because hello, I am a cheapskate and love passing for a rich person. It doesn’t sting the delicate skin around your eyes, it sinks in and lies matte on your face, it moisturizes incredibly well, and it even brightens your under-eye area like a separate, brightening primer . It has a reasonable broad-spectrum SPF, it softens your skin, it doesn’t bead in the heat….it’s pretty much the best. I mean, honestly, it’s kind of an overachieving NERD of an eye cream, with its big-ass list of fanciful ingredients and benefits, but whatever, nerds need love too. And I’mma keep loving this cream alllllllllll daaaaaaay looooooong.
Until I find an even better one and I drop its ass flat on the ground, that is.