I learned about Kiss Me Heroine Make Long And Curl Mascara in this fun article about the best Japanese drugstore finds you can buy on Amazon, and had to bite. It turns out that most American mascaras are not a true black, but rather a sort of grey-black, and that Kiss Me Heroine is the blackest of the black. It took forever to arrive, but when I tried it yesterday, I was amazed: yes, it truly is a very black black, but it also extends and curls like nobody’s business.
Here’s the mascara I’ve been using—and adoring—for the past couple of months, ever since one of the ladies behind the counter at Bigelow told me it was her favorite in the store: Rilastil Cosmetic Camouflage. It comes with a very thin wand, which helps deliver blessedly clump-free lashes, and if you hang in there and apply a few layers, it looks really pretty and a touch dramatic.
I’m currently doing battle with what I’m pretty sure is my first-ever outbreak of roseaca—little satellites of tiny red bumps accompanied by redness are spread across both of my cheeks, which looks just about as charming as you might imagine—so yesterday I decided that a little something in the way of coverage was called for, and got myself to Sephora. Where, as it turns out, they’ve got a perfectly genius contraption, about the size of a Clairsonic, that takes an exact measurement of your skin tone, and suggests all of the items in store that match it. I tried about five different options—all tinted moisturizers; I can’t quite make the leap to foundation—and finally settled on this Amazonian Clay Tinted BB Moisturizer from Tarte, which quite deftly made the red disappear while staying on the sheer side. Now I just have to make the actual roseaca go away, and on that I’m totally stumped. I put it to you, readers: are there good over-the-counter remedies? Or do I just get myself to a dermatologist?
This is one beauty treatment that’s never much tempted me. Because it’s pricey and doesn’t last long and—like self-tanning and botox—going to a technician who has anything but a super-light hand can result in a dead giveaway. But nobody warned me about the fact that at a certain point in a woman’t life, her eyelashes start thinning out. And I have found this development quite irksome. So on Sunday, at the Flatiron District MAC store (where, BTW, I found the exactly perfect shade of un-sparkly, not at all Heather Locklear-ian dark navy eyeshadow that has been eluding me) when I complimented the girl who rang me up on her lashes, and she gave me a card with the name and number of the place where she got them done, I stuck that card in my bag and there it remains. It’s half as much as fancy salons charge, and all the MAC girls go there, apparently. And I figure their recommendation would be as good as it gets on this front. But still: not quite sure I can clear this hurdle. Anyone?
I was born in Houston, Texas in 1964 and have lived in New York City since 1988. I had a long career in magazines, working at Sassy, Elle, New York, and Spin, and in 2000, I founded Lucky magazine, which I edited for ten years.