Annie Walton Doyle

For a long time, I suspected that primer was a bit of a swizz. Makeup to go under your makeup, you say? Sounds very “Emperor’s New Clothes” to me.

In the aisles of a drugstore, one’s instinct is almost magpie-rial. Glitter! Neon! Caramel-scented!

Sometimes with skincare, it’s the satisfying science speak which lulls you into a state of security.

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.

In life, there’s not much I love more than a good bitch. I’d take a mean, hilarious person over a “nice” bland-y any day of the week.

You can’t fight it so embrace it: Fluffy winter hair.

I love spending money like a total asshole as much as the next woman. But sometimes, a cheap thrill is the most thrilling thrill of all.

Being a “strong” and “empowered” woman is so hot right now.

Is there any makeup as synonymous with the twenty-teens as eyebrows?