Annie Walton Doyle

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.

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 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.

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?

Being a Drag Queen isn't one-size-fits-all femininity. Not all real life women are glamorous and fabulous at all times, nor should we feel we have to be.

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

Those weird bendy rollers you’ve never used are actually a Hot Tip for adding texture to damaged hair.

Of all of the supposed beauty “problems” in the world, for me, roots are really the least “problematic.” In fact, I love mine dearly.