Annie Walton Doyle

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

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

Of all of the supposed beauty “problems” in the world, for me, roots are really the least “problematic.” In fact, I love mine dearly.

Self-care is a phrase so enthusiastically tossed about as of late that in many ways it has lost all meaning. In the same way “wellness” has gone, the concept now seems vague and fuzzy, somehow ineffable.

Lash stain: what the hell. Am I right?

The wonderful thing about knitting is that it combines mindfulness with mindlessness. You have to concentrate, sure, but you can easily lose yourself.

Remember your first foray into the makeup world? Everything was more fun then. Colors were chosen in a magpie-like fashion.

As someone with a longstanding and deep love of a shine-face, powder blush has always been somewhat of a problem area for me.

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?

Can you partake in the beauty industry — makeup, tutorials, magazines, and the oppressive standards they impose — and still feel good about your self-worth?