Annie Walton Doyle

Lash stain: what the hell. Am I right?

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.

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!

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.

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

I think it’s safe to say that I’m coming to the end of my blond

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

On the difficult and important topic of highlighter, I’m torn.