Anyone who went to a benefit, a minor award show, or a wedding in the 2010s probably sauntered first into Drybar, the chain of blow-dry salons. You’d plunk down $40, order from a menu of hairstyles—the Cosmo, the Mai Tai—and leave with every hair in place. After Alli Webb, Drybar’s co-founder, sold her salon and product businesses, she discovered that maybe cookie-cutter hairstyles weren’t for her. Now, she offers an antidote to Drybar with Messy, a line of hair products that aren’t so dead-set on perfection but are better than the randomness of an air dry. “Air drying is such a crapshoot,” she says. “Maybe it’ll turn out good but maybe it won’t because of weather, product, environment—all the things.” She came up with a method of rough drying with her styling cream then twisting sections with her fingers and letting the twists dry. “I know, it’s the antithesis of Drybar,” says Webb, but life is messy; you might as well embrace it. (From $32, itsmessy.com) —Linda Wells

Call me frivolous—you wouldn’t be the first—but I only permit attractive, color-coordinated shampoos, conditioners, and body washes in my shower. I’ve even been known to transplant a drugstore body cream into a Clé de Peau jar. I know; I should be shot. That may explain my attraction to the haircare line from the people who make the ridiculously beautiful French brushes, La Bonne Brosse. Cair—as in hair plus care—houses its shampoo, detangler, scalp serum, and sun protection oil in heavy, refillable glass bottles with a thick sculpted braid at the collar. The ingredients are just as tempting: A combination of vitamins, good bacteria, hyaluronic acid, and rice, bamboo, and grape water. They aim to balance the scalp’s microbiome, not to mention upgrading your shower caddy several notches. (From $58, labonnebrosse.com)—Linda Wells

“Mid” and “basic” are perhaps the most damning insults of the moment. In our hyped-up world, only extremes register. That applies to fragrance and skin cream, too; every other new entry is labeled intense, rich, extreme, or forte. Augustinus Bader, whose Rich Cream is beloved by the rich, now offers a new formula to “push the boundaries of skincare.” The Elixir is the most powerful version of its Advanced TFC8, a proprietary complex of amino acids, vitamins, and peptides. How powerful? How rich? Well, it comes in a gold bottle rather than the usual cobalt blue and costs a gasp-inducing $550. But for those who like their potions strong and are willing to pay the price, the product delivers in a vehicle that feels lightweight and silky. Apply it on clean skin and follow it with a moisture. Going to extremes can be exhilarating. ($550, augustinusbader.com)—Linda Wells

If you’re hungry for a little culture beyond Kid Rock at the Kennedy Center, perhaps you’re on your way to Paris right now. May I suggest an addition to your itinerary? In an office building on Avenue Montaigne is a secret facial salon offering a treatment that goes so far beyond the face. Hervé Herau starts each appointment with a conversation that feels like a cross between therapy and psychic reading (he told me something so promising and positive that I practically floated through the rest of the session). His method, he says, is “an inner journey and an awakening to and towards oneself that can be seen on our skin… (the barometer of our soul).” I can attest; it’s exceptional. Herau massages and moisturizes your skin with his array of gorgeous products, loosening your jaw and your mind along the way. He also kneads your stomach, something I usually find revolting, but not with Herau. I left after almost two hours feeling lighter, more joyful, and actually even glowing. (starting at $350, contact@herveherau.com) —Linda Wells

Have you ever noticed how many fragrances are named after Portofino, Sicily, Capri, and Positano? Perfumers clearly love a glamorous destination. Now, Daniel Patrick Giles of Perfumehead is sticking closer to home with his latest scent, 1272. It’s actually inspired by his Palm Springs home, a 1955 glass house designed by Donald Wexler. The flood of light, the dramatic orange sunsets, the blend of citrus, jasmine, sandalwood, and patchouli—all those qualities are contained in the stylish bottle. He calls the result a “cologne-extrait hybrid”, meaning it combines the ease of a cologne with the longevity of a perfume. The scent is clear and invigorating, like a leap into a David Hockney pool. Splashy! ($235, nordstrom.com)—Linda Wells

I’m a cheater. After swearing my loyalty to Clinique’s Almost Lipstick in Black Honey in this very publication, I’ve embraced a new shade. Like its predecessor, Nude Honey is not out to make a statement—in fact, it’s even quieter. Its carefully calibrated blue, red, and yellow pigments blend into the lips, enhancing their natural tone. The first layer of this emollient, buildable balm is nearly sheer, but three swipes achieve that lightly flushed look that no longer comes naturally to those of us who remember a world without blogs. Will Nude Honey unseat Black to become the best-selling lipstick in the United States? Probably not, if only because so many of us are nostalgic for the 90s, when it became a phenomenon. But is that really so bad? ($25, ulta.com) —Ashley Baker