Annie Walton Doyle

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

During such trying times, there is one trusty frenemy whose shadowy presence always sneaks back into my life. Benzoyl peroxide, I wish I knew how to quit you.

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