When I was the food editor of The New York Times Magazine, the paper’s restaurant critic told me that most of the places he visited never received a drop of ink. They were neither good enough to merit a review nor bad enough to slam. (This was before Guy Fieri opened his monstrosity in Times Square.) The same is true for beauty products. Of the hundreds I try, many aren’t remarkable enough to supplant my favorites, but they do the job well enough. They’re … fine.
To find the exceptional in the crowd, I’ve conducted tests in which I divide my face into quadrants like a Cubist painting to compare foundations, tinted moisturizers, or primers. (If you want a great example of this, check out @thelipsticklesbians.) For body wash and lotion, it’s right side, left side, or upper and lower, like a magician’s assistant sawed in half.
Fragrances present the problem of being indelible; once you spritz them on your wrists, there’s no turning back, as I discovered again last week with a new, very peach-forward scent. I am, I also discovered, not a peach-forward person.
Skin care is where the whole operation gets messy. Consistency, glide, scent, and sensation—all that’s easy to discern. To see how the serum or cream works under makeup, I look for pilling and separating (and then I grumble, wash my face, and start over). But judging anything that claims to reduce lines, dullness, or redness—in other words, turn back time, like Cher—requires a different set of rules. To do it reliably, I’d have to wear that product and nothing else for a full four weeks and then compare it against a control. My bathroom isn’t a lab with perfect lighting, and I don’t trust my eyes to assess things like wrinkle depth or degree of brightness. Also, controls aren’t easy when you’re living in the world with all its variables. That’s when I turn to scientific studies and interviews with chemists. It’s a process.
This brings me to my new favorites, ones I’ve tested and added to my makeup bag and medicine cabinet. They’re far better than just fine. If I were a restaurant critic, I’d give them three stars.
Peter Philips, Dior Makeup’s creative and image director, has figured out an expression for Dior Beauty that rivals Jonathan Anderson’s for fashion. It’s all centered around lip glosses and oils with glowing textures, a bit of sparkle, a lot of shine, and transparent shades that aren’t complicated or arty. The colors of Dior Addict Lip Oils and Rouge Lips look as if they emerged from a Bon Bon shop. Philips, who was in New York to demonstrate the new products, used words like “juicy,” “glaze,” and “candy feel.” Francis Kurkdjian, the perfume-creation director at Parfums Christian Dior, concocted three scents to go with the three lip groups: Rosy Glow, Peachy Glow—both self-explanatory—and Purple Glow, which smells like a candied raspberry. The oils and scents are “all very yummy,” says Philips. They’re definitely meant for consumers younger than I am, but then again, what isn’t? I love them anyway. (Dior Addict Lip Glow Oil, $42, Dior.com)
I was a Mason Pearson/Wet Brush devotee for decades. Then La Bonne Brosse came along with bristles designed for various hair types and a shiny back and wavy handle in stylish colors like cherry, sage, and saffron. It was pretty perfect, but it wasn’t right for detangling wet hair. For that, there’s the Kitsch brush. It has a bendable frame, so when it encounters a tangle, it doesn’t muscle through it, ripping your hair. It flexes, like Breezy Johnson’s knees over the Olympic slopes. The bristles have protective nubs on the ends to work wet or dry and give an invigorating scalp massage. And it’s made of recyclable material. (Terracotta Detangling Flexi Brush, $15, kitsch.com)
I have fallen under the Rhode spell. Hailey Bieber’s new Peptide Lip Boost does the impossible job of protecting my lips in this brutal, feels-like-negative-six-degree weather. Bieber has made a business of moist (sorry, I know how this word violates certain delicate sensibilities), offering a minimalist vision of sheer, plumping, dewy products, some with “peptide” in the name. The line reminds me a bit of the Row, where each item seems nice but unremarkable until you try it on and realize it’s exactly what you want, but better. That’s the Rhode Peptide Lip Boost. Does it really make lips look plumper? I didn’t notice a meaningful difference in this or any other lip plumper, unfortunately, although it is nicely tingly. About those peptides: Javon Ford, a cosmetic chemist, says, “They’re really good for hydrating the skin… and for that immediate plumping effect.” Rhode’s peptide lip gel comes in scented and unscented versions; I like the Sugarmint. ( Peptide Lip Boost, $23, rhode.com)
Sulwhasoo is one of the fanciest Korean skin-care brands to hit the U.S. How fancy, you ask? It threw a party at the Metropolitan Museum of Art a few years ago with Rosé, of Blackpink, as the main attraction. Sulwhasoo’s gentle, elegant products are built around ginseng, the root that has all sorts of medicinal benefits, according to ancient and current practices. In recent scientific studies, the ingredient was found to contain antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties that are especially good for skin. Sulwhasoo’s new Concentrated Ginseng Rejuvenating Cleansing Foam has a “dual elastic bubble technology,” which sounds like something out of The Onion. The foam is nicely foamy, and it washes away makeup without requiring extra force. It’s hard to get excited about a cleanser, but this one is a winner. (Concentrated Ginseng Rejuvenating Cleansing Foam, $65, sulwhasoo.com)
If you’re one of those people who don’t like your perfume too perfumy and never want it to enter the room before you do, then may I suggest Catch Me If I Fall, from La Pyae Apothecary. It sprang from the mind of a beauty editor—so I’m immediately inclined to love it. And I really do. Kathleen Baird-Murray, of British Vogue and Tatler, worked with Frank Voelkl, the perfumer behind Le Labo Santal 33 and Glossier You, on this really gorgeous, bright blend of bergamot, jasmine, cut grass, cardamom, and neroli, with a cedarwood, musky base. I like to spray it on just before walking out the door—or whenever I need a shot of energy. (Catch Me If I Fall, $268, lapyae.com)
Linda Wells is the Editor of AIR MAIL LOOK