Annie Walton Doyle

Let this idea appeal to your insubordinate nature: the world wants me to not like my face, so guess what? I’ve decided I like it. Take that, world!

It’s surely well known by now that the age of the heavily drawn on, perfectly angled eyebrow is coming to an end.

Those weird bendy rollers you’ve never used are actually a Hot Tip for adding texture to damaged hair.

In much the same way I feel about my eyebrows, I feel perpetual dissatisfaction with my lips.

It’s a prime example of what I’ve known all along: that the true crime interest and the niceness of a person are not mutually exclusive.

It’s official: I have bleached my hair to the point of no return. It can be bad: not cute and fluffy, but damaged and crazy.

Inside everyone is a little bit of a Francophile, right? French things are just good and that’s that.

If there’s one thing that makes me deeply proud of my generation (apart from our general anti-Brexit sentiment) it’s the newfound omnipresence high

My struggles with eyebrows have been well documented over the years.

Who could have predicted at the turn of the century that one of the biggest (if not the biggest) trends in makeup would be contouring?