Annie Walton Doyle

I love spending money like a total asshole as much as the next woman. But sometimes, a cheap thrill is the most thrilling thrill of all.

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

The wonderful thing about knitting is that it combines mindfulness with mindlessness. You have to concentrate, sure, but you can easily lose yourself.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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