Annie Walton Doyle

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.

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

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

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!

Not often am I willing to declare myself as any sort of spokeswoman, but I am happy to speak for all of us when I say: thank Baby J winter is endin

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.

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.

Do you have a good side? I definitely don’t have a preferred “side.” I am sometimes pictures of myself for my job, and I don’t know which side is better.

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.

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