E: PINKY brown. And now I am trying to push my lipstick boundaries back, like on one of those programmes about phobias.
“Describe your level of discomfort on a scale from one to ten”
Red would be a TEN. Pink is ooh, a seven, I suppose.
M: I see, like arachnophobia therapy. First you can look at pictures of a spider, then you can look at a spider, then you can wear a spider on your lips.
E: Erm, yes. So red lipstick is my spiderlips. I’m not there yet. I have to confess I am not even fully doing the pink thing.
M: What comfort level of lipstick are you wearing now?
E: Well. I am trying to use this Tom Ford Flamingo, but I am smudging it with some Lanolips Rhubarb. It’s really full on and matte if you put it straight from the tube.
M: Pretty! I do not agree that, in your words, you look like a “geriatric goth forced to wear a tutu”. Smudging is good. I always end up with lipstick on my teeth otherwise. Since you are experimenting with pink, E, let me show you MY pink lipstick.
E: WHOOOAAAA. THAT SHIT IS PINK.
M: YES! SO PINK. Even pinker in real life. Neon pink.
E: You look really hot actually. What is it?
M: Thanks E. It is Estee Lauder Portofino Coral, granny’s signature lipstick.
E: It’s ok, you don’t have the heavily powdered face necessary to do it granny style.
M: It’s very creamy, and super pigmented, but it goes all over the fucking place.
E: All over your granny shopping trolley and your zip up furry booties. No, I am joking, it’s really very pretty. It makes me want to push back my pink boundaries (that sounds like a terrible euphemism).
M: Ha. I love it with actual true love.
E: Pink lips: not just for Christmas. Indeed, not for Christmas at ALL.
M: What are your favourite pinks, Facegoopists? And what lipstick colours set your spider phobia scale tingling?
E: I LOVE that game! Please can I be Lassie this time? I’m sick of being Flipper.
M: No, E. We are going to help Reader Laura with this question she has sent in. Her question goes like this:
I’m begging you guys to help me please? My skin is in meltdown. I’ve had really bad acne since I was like 12 and I’ve been on Roaccutane twice, and a bunch of other crap…so all the zits went away, but now it looks like they’re coming back, and I’m not allowed Roaccutane again. So I am desperate, and decided to contact you guys and ask for any products/hints/ANYTHING that could help and keep my skin decent enough to have a social life…bearing in mind I’m still in school, my part-time work is minimum wage and I consider £40 a cream top-end? Anything would be appreciated muchly! And keep adding new reviews to Facegoop, I love it!! Thankyou
M: Yes. I have considerable experience in this particular domain, what with my KAPOK BARK SKIN.
E: When I google ‘kapok bark’ I get a picture of a scary black bird with red eyes. Is that you, M?
M: You are laughing, E, but it’s no fun when even your mother keeps on complaining about your skin.
E: I don’t know what Kapok bark looks like, but I’m guessing it’s not a compliment.
M: It’s the bark behind that bird. Craggy. Uneven. Gross. Did you have Kapok bark skin?
E: Actually, mine is worse than ever now, cruelly. I am out kapoking kapok. Small children recoil from me in the streets. I had to cover my craggy grossness with powder today and my brush moulted so I look like a mexican wolf child, but the beard is a good distraction from the blemishes. Apart from a beard, what do you suggest for Laura?
M: Well, I have tried everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. I did Roaccutane too when I was at school. It just made me look dry and desiccated, like a mummy.
E: Always a good look, the Ramses-chic.
M: A mummy with a constant bleeding nose, because that’s what Roaccutane does to you. Frankly, I think it’s evil. EVIL, I tell you.
E: Legal Note: Roaccutane is not in league with the devil. Other satanists are available.
M: I also don’t believe in dermatologists. They either give you a crap ton of antibiotics, or cover your face in benzoid peroxide . Mum-Ra had nothing on me.
E: The only time I went to a derm, he put me on steroids for 2 years to no effect.
M: Were you surprisingly muscular though?
E: I was quite angry and moonfaced. Like a cute, squidgy Hulk.
M: Green, yet cuddly? I saw a couple of French dermatologists when I was at uni. The first one was actually quite helpful. Maybe because she worked in one of those state-sanctioned student health centres, so she obviously had some experience with acne. She made me use this Aderma Gel Moussant face & body wash, made from oats. That shit is good for you. Calms your face right down. Boots have it for £7.50.
E: Oats. People tell me good things about oats
M: Yeah. Horses eat them. They are soft and gentle, like a horse’s mane.
She also gave me a gel called Erythrogel which was quite good. More of an on-the-spot antibiotic sort of thing. My sister the actress slash moddle still uses it.
E: That there is a recommendation. SHE SNOGGED JEAN DUJARDIN IN A FILM AND EVERYTHING.
M: Then I went to see another dermato, in my 20s. Another recommendation from my sister. And do you know what she put me on?
E: Erm. I am frightened
M: You should be. A hormone treatment. You take the normal contraceptive pill, and then you take a quarter of this thing called “Androcur”. Which I believe is an androgen suppressant. I think it’s basically chemical castration. “It’s great”, she said, “You’ll have no hair on your legs, you’ll lose weight, your skin will be fantastic”.
E: Ok, scary French dermato lady, that doesn’t sound terrifying at ALL. Did it work?
M: It worked. My sex drive was also that of an obsese marmot eating a cracker. You know the one I mean.
E: I do. So what’s your actual advice, based on all this dermo-war?
M: Well. I think it’s really about a hormonal imbalance, isn’t it? And your skin being irritated and angry, like a tiny little nazi on your face.
E: Angry monkey nazi.
M: So my advice is really fucking boring I’m afraid. Take lots of Omegas, like evening primrose oil or flax seed oil. Lots of probiotics too. I once went to a crazy indian homeopathist who swore that problems in the gut had an effect on the skin. And he was, like 146 and his skin was as smooth as a baby’s, so.
E: Probiotics worked miracles with my son’s angry monkey back. Sorted that shit right out.
M: And then, GENTLENESS. I’ve noticed my skin has been much better behaved since I stopped using anything with SLS or parabens in it. I really like the Good Things cleanser, as you know, which is sweet smelling and cheap as chips.
E: Legal note: Good Things does not smell of chips. It is supposedly available at Boots, Superdrug and Sainsburys, although neither of us can actually FIND it there. Boots online has it in stock though.
M: I’ve also been using the FAB cleanser and FAB facial cream lately, and I would recommend both for their superior ability to not give me angry monkey face.
E: Another cheap product win, there.
M: There is one other thing, E, but it is very very very dear.
E: Is it ‘stealing the skin of a Russian oligarch’?
M: No, it’s the SKII facial treatment essence. A.k.a. “miracle water”. I have not a clue what is in it. By the smell of it, I would say vinegar and donkey sweat.
E: Sake, surely. And unicorn tears?
M: If unicorns cried diamonds, perhaps. I have no idea what it’s actually supposed to do, but it really did transform my skin. Calmed it right down, and rebalanced the mad sweaty oiliness I was suffering from. I’ve stopped using it now, and my face it still fine, so maybe some wealthy grandmother could bestow a bottle upon Laura instead of an inheritance, to help her through a rough patch.
E: M, I desperately need your help. See, I have sneaked off and bought the nail varnish of my dreams which is the pretty, berry, Chanel April. I have waited. Lusted. Saved. And now I have it.
M: Good. HURRAH! Put some on, quick.
E: Yeah, see. There is a problem. And not just with HSBC. The problem is my nails. Are. FUCKED. The winter has killed them. They are split, cracked, weak and generally shit.
M: How fucked are we talking about here? Fucked as in ‘had a quick fumble on the sofa’?
E: No. Fucked like .. oh god. Don’t make me use pornographic analogies M, I’m waaaay too british for that. Fucked like … my garden after Satan has been for his morning stroll.
M¨: Yes. Leafy green vegetables, shit with vitamin in it, calcium, that sort of thing.
E: Ok, I have an idea. How about I take those tablet things, what are they called? You know, the expensive skin ones that I bought and never used? Not Immodium. Something similar.
E: Oh, excellent. A product based solution: always the best.
M: That shit. Does not chip. And it turns your mails into fingerclaws. In a good way.
E: COOL. I long for claws.
M: So.
Step 1: eat healthily
E: BOOOO.
M: Step 2: switch to a gentle nail polish remover and the toughness of diamonds
E: Meh, ok, I suppose.
M: Step 3: feed them oil. Rosehip maybe? I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about.
E: Yeah, there must be some other unguent I can use. We should ask the Goopists. They might know. Please Goopists, is there anything you can save me from healthy eating and – sign of the cross – WATER? Help! I promise to try out and report back on whatever you recommend.
E: Goop morning, M. We’ve been a bit lame recently again, haven’t we?
M: Goop morning E. Yes, we have, but a lot has happened since last we spoke. Things like: me moving back to the UK. Also: winter hitting me in the face.
E: Brrrrrr. You’d forgotten about that hadn’t you? The sleet, the icy puddles. The hail.
M: Yes. I was all “YAY! COLD!”
“I get to not have sweaty boobs any more”
“I get to see my breast mist in the cold morning air”
E: Breast mist? I think ur doin’ winter wrong.
M: Ssssssh. I mean breath.
E: If you say so. So: The Shock. He is Rude.
M: Yeah. My face. She is dry. And what did you suggest when I asked you for a moisturiser recommendation, mmmm, E?
E: I told you that I didn’t have a fucking clue, I believe. Is that right?
M: That is correct. You suggested FUCK ALL.
E: Yes, that sounds likely. I’ve been using some old chip pan fat and a dead seal, myself.
M: So I had to drag my sorry, shivering carcass to Boots. The winter wonderland of Boots.
E: Ah, sweet, sweet Boots and its five pound voucher off Ruby and Millie. I bet you missed Boots, eh?
M: Yeah, I did. Boots is marvellous. I kissed its shiny shiny floor. I kissed its balding security guards. I kissed its be-coated Clinique sales assistants. And when I had kissed everyone, I also got this moisturizer: FAB Daily Face Cream
M: FAB, I’m sorry to say, stands for “First Aid Beauty”
E: Hmm. It sounds like a 1970s ice lolly and it looks .. retro. And a little medical.
M: I can’t quite get over how lame the name is. I am tempted to go over the bottle with a black marker.
E: There is some seriously bad copy on that website. I don’t think “to scavenger” is a verb. In fact, I KNOW it isn’t.
M: No, no it isn’t. Do you know what free radicals are, E?
E: Hmmmmm I *think* they’re a bit like bad bacteria. The ones from Actimel adverts, chasing the glow off your face, like evil, tiny Mr Men.
M: Oh? To me they’re freegans who organise riots near the Sorbonne.
E: Ah. White dreads. Birkenstocks.
M: No. Repetto ballerinas.
E: Fucking French, stylish even in protest. I am tempted to assume ‘free radicals’ are bollocks, But whatevs. Your FAB can trap them if it likes.
M: It’s really a shame about the packaging and lame name and terrible copy, because FAB is, I hate to say it, fab.
E: Really? What is FAB about it?
M: It’s very moisturising, as tested against the harsh Scottish wind. It leaves my skin soft and firm, but not oily. It does not give me angry monkey face – no bumps, no redness, no spots, no nothing. In fact, I can honestly say my adult skin has NEVER looked this good. I keep on passing the mirror and marvelling at it.
E: This is astonishingly good for such a lame ass named product. If someone asks you why you look so good, say Botox, yeah? Not ‘FAB’.
M: Deal. It has all this stuff in it.
BARRIER PROTECTION: Ceramides MOISTURIZE & PLUMP: Glycerin SOFTEN & SMOOTHE: Squalane COMBAT FREE RADICALS: FAB Antioxidant Booster
… FAB Antioxidant Booster. That sounds like an item on Batman’s belt.
E: Holy free radicals, Batman. “Smoothe” is not a word. Also, what in the name of Pokemon is Squalane, M?
M: Is it crushed whale? Well, maybe squeezed whale. Like, if you milked a whale (I have no idea).
E: (I guessed. Let’s ask Dr Wikipedia). Apparently it comes from “a variety of plant and animal sources”. It’s a component of human sebum, apparently. Wow, appealing.
M: I don’t care about the squalane sebum. Because I love this. It is witchcraft. And it is only £15.
E: Fine. It’s a win. It can’t speak English, but it’s a Facegoop FAB win.
