Annie Walton Doyle

It’s surely well known by now that the age of the heavily drawn on, perfectly angled eyebrow is coming to an end.

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

In much the same way I feel about my eyebrows, I feel perpetual dissatisfaction with my lips.

Aside from knitting and prescribed medications, beauty products are the thing that helps me out the most during a bout of depression. Sound crazy? Read on.

Companies — like, say, L'Oreal — wouldn’t just use the broad, vague, abstract concept of diversity (by hiring Munroe Bergdorf) to lure in customers... would they? But you have to remember — companies are about money-making first and foremost. Sometimes, they’re not really about much else.

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

It’s official: I have bleached my hair to the point of no return. It can be bad: not cute and fluffy, but damaged and crazy.

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

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!

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