Annie Walton Doyle

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.

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

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

Blurred lip lines make your mouth look plumper in a natural, non-Juvadermed way (pretty), plus makes it look like you’ve just been making out (further proof you are pretty — as if you needed it).

Many criticize Geordie Shore as entertainment in its lowest form: fights, drinking, people falling over, nudity, swearing, and “bucking” (sexual intercourse). Yet, to me, it is so much more than that. As a fully qualified human woman, I can’t help myself analyzing the show through feminist-tinted glasses. The decisions and attitudes of the “family” represent, to me, a new kind of feminism.

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

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

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.

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.

There is literally no disadvantage to being confident. It’ll make you happier, more successful, a better friend, a better person.