Scarlett Johansson’s lips are high on the list of requests at the cosmetic surgeon’s office. An actual study by a doctor in Munich found that she has the ideal ratio of top-to-bottom thickness—1:1—without any artificial distortion or puffiness. So where does that leave the rest of us? Applying and reapplying the new glossy lip treatment from her beauty line, The Outset. The formula, which she says took four years to develop, moisturizes and strengthens the lip barrier over four weeks when used three times a day. It arrives just in time for chapped-lip season and is called Lip Oasis, so it’s also just in time for Liam and Noel Gallagher’s reunion tour. Maybe it’s going to be the one that saves me. ($28, theoutset.com) —Linda Wells

What does balance smell like? We’ll leave that one to Yasmin Sewell, the founder of Vyrao. Her newest fragrance, Mamajuju, conjures the scent of rain on clay. She hopes that will make its wearers feel more connected to nature—and, therefore, relaxed and grounded. Each deep-red bottle contains a crystal said to be energetically charged, but it’s Mamajuju’s scent that’s really electrifying. It mixes top notes of sandalwood oil, red clay, pink pepper, and saffron with whiffs of cardamom, nutmeg, cumin, vetiver, and cedarwood. Sewell chose each ingredient for its purported emotional benefits, but for us, the olfactory experience of a walk in the forest—while a Thanksgiving feast cooks somewhere in the distance—is its own mood lifter. ($220 for a 50 ml. bottle, vyrao.com) —Ashley Baker

If you are not remotely curious about Rick Owens’s nipples, then don’t listen to Bella Freud’s new podcast. But you won’t regret tuning in. On Fashion Neurosis with Bella Freud, the designer leans into her familial tendency toward analysis. (Her great-grandfather was Sigmund.) She invites intriguing characters—so far, Owens, Trinny Woodall, and soccer star Eric Cantona—to lie on her couch, and each hour-ish-long session involves a revealing conversation about beauty in various forms: the drape of a hemline, the sheen of a foundation, the mood of a color … Rich with inspiration, each revealing episode is compulsively listenable, thanks in part to Freud’s soothing voice and thoughtful questions. One small request: book Alessandro Michele! (podcasts.apple.com) —Ashley Baker

Washing my face had never really sparked joy. But then I discovered Sulwhasoo’s Signature Ginseng Facial Soap and its deeply satisfying thick lather. The brand describes the suds as “cashmere-like”—and they’re not far off. Despite its softness, it’s an effective cleanser: my usually oily skin has not behaved this well since I was piling on Noxzema during the Clinton administration. Best of all, the gentle formula includes a good dose of glycerin to keep from stripping away moisture. The zingy scent of ginseng only adds to the fun. I even bought a travel soap container so I can take the bar on the road. Is it really so wrong to use it all over my body, too? ($50 for a two-pack, sulwhasoo.com) —Ashley Baker

If the words “Victoria’s Secret” give you the creeps, join the club. What with its T&A performance that masqueraded as a “fashion” show and the owner’s buddy-buddy relationship with Jeffrey Epstein, the brand is covered in a layer of slime. But it wasn’t always so. Built around a fictional Brit named Victoria, who had a robust fantasy life and an armoire of loungewear, that early lingerie was “a romantic indulgence and a personal tonic for independent, modern women on a quest to embrace their sexuality,” write Lauren Sherman and Chantal Fernandez in their compelling, wise, and even suspenseful new book, Selling Sexy: Victoria’s Secret and the Unraveling of an American Icon. As the brand expanded into every mall and imagination, Les Wexner ruled over a business phenomenon and a cultural force. It turns out, the push-up bra was rotten to the core. The company’s toxic work environment and misogynistic worldview soon became impossible to ignore. Sherman and Fernandez’s tale is a tragedy for our time, with customers, models, and the women who built the business as its ultimate victims. ($24.06, amazon.com) —Linda Wells

Sir James Dyson has a magnificent head of hair. And maybe that explains his transition in 2016 from vacuums and fans to blow-dryers. Back then, he told me his hair devices excited consumers more than anything in the Dyson catalogue, “because you use it every day and because it contributes to beauty.” Now realizing that styling tools can take you only so far, he’s focusing on hair-care products. His approach is scientific, exacting, cellular. Mushrooms—the beauty industry’s current favorite vegetable (although, to be precise—and with things Dyson, one must—they’re not technically vegetables; they’re fungi)—lend themselves well to hair products. The oyster mushroom contains a polymer that, as harnessed in Dyson Chitosan, forms a flexible net around each strand. That means smoothness, shine, and hold without stiffness. Unlike the usual sprays and gels, there’s a Pre-style cream in four variations and a Post-style serum. You can’t use too much, because the bottle is designed to emit a measured dose. Apply it, and your hair will be as luscious and shiny as an engineer’s. ($59.99; dyson.com) —Linda Wells