Estée Lauder, the woman herself, once questioned the logic of night creams. “Your skin doesn’t know what time it is,” she reportedly said. She was full of bon mots like that, including her marketing strategy, which I heard her recite with my own ears: “Telephone, telegram, tell-a-woman.”
By the time telegrams became relics, beauty companies had embraced nighttime skincare with wild enthusiasm. The products centered around thick, heavy creams that took advantage of the fact that they didn’t have to play well under makeup or appear in public on the wearer’s face. In other words, the denser and slicker, the better. The only witnesses were your partner and your pillowcase. Soon enough, nighttime serums and lip masks joined the sleepover. You’d coat your face lavishly, as if frosting a Magnolia cupcake, and dream of a dewy, glowing tomorrow.
