Posts Tagged ‘science’
E: M, do you remember that about a million years ago, I told you about Etat Pur?
M: Yes! You made me fill out a questionnaire. With promises of free stuff. I never got the free stuff.
E: We were robbed. Nevertheless, I would like to invite you back, briefly, into the State of Purity (no passport required).
M: Hmm. It sounds very Orwellian.
E: Yes. One face good. Two moustaches bad. I am sad you never got free stuff because some of this Etat Pur goop, despite its slightly fascist name, is excellent, and also, because I think the Etat Pur schtick is right up your street.
M: Oh? I am raising a slightly revolutionary counterthinking eyebrow at it.
E: You’d like it, because it’s DIY. Basically, you make up your own skincare regime.
M: How is this up my street? I am way too lazy for DIY. Oh, I see. I LIKE IT.
E: So, eg, you choose from five textures of moisturizer, a couple of formulations of cleanser and so on, BUT, and this is the cool bit, then there are loads of targeted add ons, that you can add using amusingly tiny scientific dropper bottles.
M: OMYGODILOVETHATSTUFF. I LIKE IT ALREADY. GIVE ME FREE STUFF.
E: I was given many of the tiny sample bottles of, er, chemical magic to try. Obviously this is far too much like hard work for me. I don’t even know what most of these dropper bottles do.
M: Now you are just rubbing it in. I am supposed to be the skincare nerd in this dynamic duo! ME!
E: Hmm. Maybe I should send them to you, for testing with your safety goggles and lab coat? In the meantime, however, I have managed to master ONE of these tiny dropper bottle samples and very good it is too.
M: Oh yes? Tell me more, while I make faces of envy and skin-based frustration in the manner of a constipated elephant.
E: It’s called “A22 Salicylic acid 300“:
SCIENCEGASM. Look at the teeny tiny jars! The sciencey bottles! You know you love it. Obviously, at 38 I should not have a face full of blemishes, but life is a dick, so I do. This salicylic acid is for dabbing on said blemishes.
M: That is one of my favourite acids. Is it good? The blemishes are rife in this neighborhood. The blemishes are totally hogging the street corner.
E: The blemishes have taken over the low rises. Yeah, it totally does the trick. Takes down the redness. Chases the spots off the street corner with threats of an antisocial behaviour order.
M: Wow. It’s like paying protection money. For your skin.
E: I mean, it’s not, you know, MIRACULOUS. Community policing your face is slow, hard work, but it does the job. That’s what I like about this Etat Pur stuff: no exaggerated nonsenseclaims. No bullshit. And actually, for each product you can look at the actual clinical trial results on their Etat Pur website to see whether it actually does anything.
M: Ahahahhahahahhahahahahhahahahahhahahahhahahahhahahahhaha. Oh my god. The SkinPolice have got you. They have brainwashed you.
E: APPLY YOUR LAB COAT, M. JOIN ME. Because, see, I need to tell you this: Etat Pur is cheap. Moisturisers are £7.80 and the most expensive tiny pot of voodoo is only £14.20. I’m quite tempted by one of the ones for sensitive and reactive skin (Angry Monkey Face, basically).
M: Interesting. And 3 free samples with every order.
E: Three free samples that you get to CHOOSE. Not some old crap they’ve had hanging around since Christmas Secret Santa.
M: Hmm. Well. Maybe. I may give it a chance.
E: You have nothing to lose but your, erm, freedom? BARGAIN.
E: I am so tired, M, so tired. It’s mainly been boozeandfagsandnosleep in the E household.
M: That’s going to do wonders for your complexion. And by “wonders”, I mean “bugger all”.
E: Yup. All I need to do is attach my face to an exhaust pipe to complete the look.
M: “The look” being, um, what?
E: Erm, wrinkly cadaver. What, you may ask, am I doing to counter my poor lifestyle choices?
M: Drinking more fluids? Eating three wholesome meals a day?
E: Pfffff. Fuck off. Who do you think I am, Gwynnie? Wrong Goop, dude.
M: Are you embracing a vegan upbringing in a teepee?
E: Ewwwwwwww gross. White dreads and Seitan. No.
M: Seitan is for Satan.
E: I am throwing MONEY at the problem. More specifically I have hired Jean Michel Jarre to sort out my face. With the power of LASERS.
M: Mmmm. Mr Jarre and his bucket full of synthesisers.
E: Except, hang on, let me check the small print on this here packet. “Es ist kein Laser” it says. Oh.
M: Es ist kein miracle cure.
M: Let’s back track a little. What the hell is this? It looks… blandly un-laser like.
E: Yes. It is in fact, and disappointingly, Clinique’s Repairwear Laser Focus.
Est ist kein Laser.
Ceci n’est pas un laser
It’s not a laser.
The folk at Clinique are quite keen to make that clear. Thanks, Clinique. I had totally mixed it up with, you know, a magical death ray.
M: Yeah, thanks, Clinique lawyers. Are the lawyers formulating cosmetics now?
E: They might as well be. ANYWAY. It’s not a laser, and, like all serums, it looks like sperm. Apart from that, it’s pretty good, actually.
M: What does it do?
E: Despite my weeks of bad food and no sleep my skin looks even and smooth. I do not look like Ramses II. I have had no breakouts.
M: Would you say your skin is plump? and dewy?
E: Plump, yes. Dewy, hmmm. It’s only been two weeks, so let’s give it a bit longer.
M: I’m impressed. I tend to think of Clinique as the boring middle sister of the cosmetic world.
E: Yeah. It’s so … boring. But see, occasionally, they harness the power of French 80s electropop.
M: If I knew some Jean-Michel jarre, I would quote him right now.
E: I don’t think there are words, just beeps.
M: But for now, activate the lasers.
E: Beep beep
M: Beep beep beep
Facegoop would like to remind you that Clinique Laserwear is NOT AN ACTUAL LASER.
Clinique Repairwear laser focus, £38
M: E, I need to show you something before I pass out.
E: Will I like it? Is it an eagle? Or a pony?
M: Unlikely. And no, it is neither an eagle nor a pony.
E: Uh oh. Go on.
M: Do you like belly button fluff?
E: NO! I don’t like where this is going.
M: Right. Well, check this out:
E: Eeeeeeeeeew! What in the name of holy hell is THAT?
M: Yeah. That shit came off my FACE.
E: OH GOD.You’ve been back to the diamond hoover, haven’t you?
M: Yup. That, my friend, is the shit that’s been hoovered off my face. Dead skin cells. Makeup residue. Crud. The nice lady gave it to me in a little plastic zip bag to take home, when I asked if I could take a picture of it.
E: Oh GOD. You took your dead skin cells home with you. That’s gross
E: Though, I suppose I am carrying mine around with me too. ON MY FACE.
M: It’s my new pet. I talk to it at night.
“Hey you. How are you doing? Aren’t you much happier in this little plastic bag?”
E: You’ve managed to gross me out. I thought I could withstand any amount of gross. I live with two small boys and a dog. Eh ben, bravo.
M: “My face is so much smoother and cleaner without you”.
E: If I’d known this would happen, I would never have started this stupid blog.
M: “My pores are smaller. My angry monkey face has gone. I don’t really mind going out with no makeup”
E: You’re talking. TO DEAD SKIN CELLS.
M: You saw me recently though. Isn’t my skin much better? ISN’T IT?
E: Yeah. Your skin looks great. Glowy. Fresh. Really really good. It’s your brain I’m worried about.
M: It’s a small price to pay, E, it’s a small price to pay.
M: You like a doctor, don’t you E?
E: I LOVE a doctor. I’m like those old ladies that make up illnesses just to get to see the doctor. Mmmmm. Doctors are LOVELY. Even ones who don’t have testicle necklaces like our friend Dr Mystery.
M: Well, check this guy out.
He has it all.
Greying hair? Check
Lab coat? Check
Freakishly smooth skin? CHECK.
E: Wow. Who is this awesome doctor, M? I totally want a piece of him.
M: Well, I want some of his freakishly effective science. The Cellular Water science. He is… DR MURAD.
E: Dr Murad! He sounds smooth. And sciencey.
M: Indeed. Take a look at this: ”the Science of Cellular Water looks at the ability of cell membranes to hold water within a cell as the fundamental marker of youthful good health.”
E: Cellular water eh? What is that? Water made out of, er, cells?
M: Or is it cells made out of water? The mind boggles. The diagrams aren’t helping.
E: But hang on a cotton picking minute, M. My cells are not SQUARE. That picture looks like a Battenburg cake! Not skin.
M: No, that’s just a cross section. But yes, think of it as, erm, a portion of cake. Anyway, Dr. Murad makes lots of products that I believe are generally well thought of in the Industry.
E: Where has Dr Murad come from? What kind of a name is Murad?
M: Who knows. But all of his execs are also called Murad.
E: It’s a family affair like.. THE MAFIA. Or, um, the Baldwins.
M: No, it’s like that Being John Malkovich film. Where John Malkovich walks into his own head and everyone there is JOHN MALKOVICH. Except here everyone is WEARING A LAB COAT. And saying “MURAD MURAD MURAD” while offering you cellular water.
E: Ahahahahaha. YES. “Being Dr Murad”. If Facegoop ever moves into film production, our first feature will be Being Dr Murad.
M: Nightmarish. But you’ll be pleased to know that the Dr’s products are not a nightmare.
E: Oh, and what have you tried from Dr Murad’s Cellular Water Lab?
M: I have bought his Oil-Free Sunblock Sheer Tint SPF 15, and it is ACE. Its only active ingredient is Titanium Dioxide, which doesn’t seem to irritate my skin and make it blotchy. I can’t feel it on.
None of this crappy sticky white sand texture on your face à la Liz Earle, and great under makeup too. It’s only SPF 15, but it protects you from sun and free radical damage, which I think is what you get when you hang out with commies.
E: Hmmm. Singeing with a copy of Das Kapital. That kind of thing?
M: Yup. I have not wanted to sing the Internationale once since using this. Also my skin is moist, evened out, and glowing. WIN.
E: I feel a little weak at this cosmetic success.
M: Go and lie down, E. I’ll get the doctor to bring you a poultice.
E: Hang on. Before you go, is he very expensive?
M: Not too bad. £20.59, though it’s a bit hard to find around here in greying Scotchland. But here’s a handy link to our amazon watchamacallit:
M: I fear I’ve been suckered into a cult, E. The cult of… what? Vanity? Old age? Smooth face? Unnecessary cosmetic procedures?
E: Oh no. NO. Next time I see you you will be a frozen faced Nicole Kidman-alikey. Do I need to send the deprogrammer in?
M: Yes. I will in fact be wearing Nicole’s face, like a balaclava. Do not worry. I am not a scientologist.
E: Hmmm. Tell me more.
M: Due to temporary insanity, I have booked myself in for a course of six microdermabrasion sessions. They have a magical name: DIAMOND TOME.
E: DIAMOND TOME. WOW. I can see how you got sucked in. That sounds… SHINY. Are you shiny?
M: Their motto? “Beauty is only skin deep”.
E: Do you sparkle like a 4ct very very clear baguette cut? Or something?
M: I’m not sure what that even means, but yes, I am shiny. So shiny and smooth my boyfriend has remarked on the clarity of my complexion. WITHOUT PROMPTING.
E: Whoa! You need to tell me how they did that. It sounds amazing.
M: Well, imagine if someone had a tiny Dyson, made of diamonds, and used the precision attachment on your FACE. That’s what it feels like. A sort of hoovering scrubbing action.
E: That sounds scratchy. Was it scratchy?
M: No, not scratchy and certainly not painful.
E: Didn’t your face go all angry monkey?
M: No. Afterwards it felt a bit raw, but not red. It was also unbelievably plump and smoothed out.
E: Wow. How long did it take?
M: 30 minutes. After that I had a lamb kebab. I’m all about the class. The thing is, I LOVE it. It’s been days now and my face is so much better. Makeup goes on smoothly. There’s been one angry spot but no other ill effects.
E: Wow. I am in serious danger of joining your cult. As you may have noticed by now, Facegoopers, M is not easily impressed.
M: Also, the perky snake-tongued facialist talked me into buying some product.
E: What product? Diamond paste?
M: Dude, this is hardcore medical grade thermo-nuclear skin care business. Actually, I’ve never heard of it before. It’s Priori bioengineered skincare. It’s made by people in lab coats.
E: Those hazmat suits, probably. “Bioengineered”. What does that MEAN exactly? Engineered by humans? And not by space lizards made of unobtainium?
M: I have the face wash, and the barrier repair complex cream. Both have LCA COMPLEX in them. You know how I love me some lactic acid. And Advanced AHAs. These are AHAs who have postgraduate degrees.
E: AHA PhD.
M: Their website is funny.
E: “Idebenome superceuticals”. Even for a cosmetics bollocks term, that is pretty special. And look! “The triathlon of skin fitness”! Wow. my skin can’t even run the 100 metres. It gets a stitch halfway.
M: It is bollocks, isn’t it.
E: Sssssssssssshhh. We believe in superceuticals, M, like demented single ladies of a certain age who wear a lot of chiffon believe in fairies. We’re doing noone any harm. Except HSBC and they can fuck off. So to summarise: you have joined a cult, but you are HAPPY, SO HAPPY.
M: Yes. I am happy. I will take photos after every session, and report back at the end. I’m hoping I will look like a nubile teenager.
E: Well, I am properly excited by this. I suspect HSBC aren’t.
M: HSBC can go fuck themselves.
E: Goop morning, M. Today is an exciting day for science!
M: Uh oh. I’ll go fetch my lab coat.
E: Please do, there may be splashes. Get your safety goggles too.
M: Ok, go on then.
E: Well. You may recall that I was conducting an important scientific experiment for Facegoop.
M: What were you doing again? Eating slugs? Slugs coated in Coenzyme Q10?
E: Nope. No slugs, no snails, no product eating. Though now you mention it, I should have tasted them. I have been derelict in my duties. No matter.
You will recall that I was comparing Gel de la Mer, made out of unfeasibly expensive cashmere jellyfishes and £5 L’Oréal supermarket moisturiser.
M: On two halves of your face. Like Two-face from Batman. But CRAZY.
E: Precisely. So. I kept the experiment up for a week, with only minimal left/right confusion.
M: And by minimal, you mean drunken.
E: Ssssssh. Then, because I am all about the science, I decided to ask random members of the public (well, ones I know) to guess which side was which.
M: Interesting. I’m sure there is a scientific name for this observation methodology.
E: You may be right. What might it be? Randomised double blind control testing?
M: “Uncontrolled and unreliable”. But do go on.
E: Well. The results were SHOCKING. Do you have your goggles on?
M: If you want.
E: Every single person (about, er, eight) I asked CORRECTLY IDENTIFIED THE GEL DE LA MER SIDE.
“This side looks much better” said my friend Tara “it’s visibly different”.
“You pointed at the right side when you said Crème de la Mer” said my friend Tamara. We will gloss over that.
M: What did she mean by visibly?
E: Fresher. Plumper. More baby seal-like.
M: Furry? Vulnerable? A little bit too demanding?
E: Probably, with a huge liquid eye. Yes.
M: Well let’s see some photographical evidence, Two-Face.
E: Erm. I have some photos but I don’t think you can actually see the difference on them. However, you can see an amusing photo of me with a line down the middle of my face and another where I am holding a small cut out of Gordon Brown on the losing side, and, mysteriously, a small cut out of Kirsten Davies on the winning side. I hope that is helpful to our readers.
M: WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN, E??
E: I fear, M, it may mean that Gel de la Mer is better than £5 moisturiser. This is not the result I hoped for. Bugger; I am going to have to become a sex worker to pay for Gel de la Mer now, aren’t I?
M: What do you mean, become? A hardi har har.
E: Oh, very good. Hardiharharharhar. Truthfully, I thought the Gel side was a little plumper and less craggy. But is it significant enough for me to want to pay ££££££££ for it? I doubt it.
M: How long will the pot last you? Have you been putting it on your whole face?
E: Yes, since the Shocking Trial Results, I have taken to using it all over my face.The pot will last quite a while. You only need a teeny bit or else it gives you spots.
M: Ha. They should put that in the brochure.
E: So in conclusion, I am saddened to announce that Gel de la Mer outperforms £5 L’Oréal moisturizer. Sorry, everyone.
M: God damn you, Crème de la Mer.
E: As you know, M, I have been specially selected – possibly by the Nigerian royal family, or by a special lottery – to participate in a Secret Squirrel Product Trial by Cult Beauty, which I thought was a brand, but which it transpires is a website selling various beauty brands. It’s an honour.
M: E, they just said you had to be 35 or over.
E: Sssssh. I had to go for a Special Face Assessment. It involved sticking your head into a white sphere of doom so a nice man who we will be calling The Face Mechanic could take the worst photos of your life.
M: I see. did The Face Mechanic give you an MOT? (I don’t know what an MOT is)
E: I think I failed my face MOT. My face is broken.
M: So, can The Face Mechanic repair it? Or did he suck in air through his breath and say “pfffff”"that’ll cost you”
E: ‘There’s your parts and your labour”. “It’ll be a two man job and we can’t fit you in before October”. No. He didn’t. Though he did suggest at one point I might want to get my nostril veins ablated. I have no idea what that even means.
M: Ha. Doesn’t your nose need veins?? I mean, for blood flow. Your skin needs blood, right? Or it will just fester and fall off in disgusting black chunks.
E: What a nice vision. Thanks, M, our special Face Scientist. Apparently my nose doesn’t need the kind of veins it has. Anyway, that wasn’t great, but the worst picture was a blue one of FACE BACTERIA. I don’t want face bacteria!
E: I know. This is worse than when my nails all turned green.
M: Rather you than me, E. Parce que, let me tell you, if the mechanic took one look at my face, he would run away screaming, face wrench in one hand and chamois cloth in the other. Did he use a crank on your jaw??
E: No. There were no face tools at all.
M: THEN WHAT IS THE MIRACLE SOLUTION??? Surely you don’t have to live the rest of your life with face bacteria and nose veins?
E: I do not have THE MIRACLE SOLUTION yet. THE MIRACLE SOLUTION is in Ireland, held up by volcanic ash. The long and the short of it is: I have hideous sun damage (despite living in nowhere sunnier than England, France and Belgium all my life and wearing fucking sunscreen) I do not have many wrinkles, but he would dearly love to blast the ones I do have and my skin is uneven and full of bacteria. So either I kill myself.
E: Or I use THE MIRACLE SOLUTION.
M: Which is stuck in ireland
M: Well that sucks.
E: It does. Maybe it will all be all right when the MIRACLE SOLUTION arrives. And maybe we will all be buried under volcanic ash before that happens. However all is not lost as I bought the magical Muji cleansing oil to try. Take that, bacteria mofos.
M: Aha! We can add it to our special oil cleansing post.
E: Nice subtle trailer there, M. Yes, our special oil cleansing post featuring the Special Fancl Test. Watch this space.
Photos from Visia complexion analysis. E’s photos will be revealed in all their hideous glory at the end of the trial.
E: You know how I am really into the Science, M?
M: Oh doux petit Jésus. Not again.
E: Well. I have started an Exciting New Facegoop Experiment.
M: Is it something to do with Excessive Capitalisation?
E: That’s my Germanic Scientific Side Coming Out. Anyway, let me tell you about it. My skin is dry at the moment. Really dry. It is dessicated, loose, flaky. I have slakke skin. Sexy stuff.
M: Like coconut.
E: Yeah. Like dessicated coconut sticking to my face. Exactly. There is obviously no hope of me ever looking like a human again, so I am donating my face to Science.
M: I’m not sure Science has much use for your face, but go on.
E: Well. My first project: Compare super ridiculously expensive Crème de la Mer “Gel de la Mer” …
Hang on. WTF. there is no GEL in the Mer. Not unless there has been an environmental disaster.
M: The Gulf of Mexico begs to differ. There are jelly fish – does that count?
E: Maybe, but I don’t know why they’d be so expensive. Anyway. I am comparing Jellyfish de la Mer with £5 supermarket L’Oréal moisturizer.
M: Which one?
E: It’s called “Triple Active Crème Hydratante, Peaux Sèches”
M: That sounds suspiciously like Belgian to me.
E It’s even better in flemish. ‘Droge huid” is dry skin.
M: And what scientific comparison are you doing exactly on your droge huid?
E: Aha. Have you got your lab coat on?
M: If it pleases you to think so, yes.
E: Well, on the LEFT side of my face I am applying the £5 droge huid cream and on the RIGHT side of my face I am applying the £££££££ Gel de la Mer. Twice daily. And we will see which performs better.
The “scientist” can’t tell her right from her left. M’s brain is liquefying from the confusion.
M: Is one of your sides going to get rather demanding? Will it ask for caviar for breakfast?
E Like Mariah Carey? Maybe.
M: Yes. It will tell people not to look it in the eye.
E: Maybe it will demand kittens to be rubbed against it.
M: So how is this tightly controlled clinical trial going?
E: I started this experiment on Thursday. So far, the Mariah Carey side has generated one spot. The £5 side none. Apart from that they both sides are slightly less coconutty.
M: Anything else to declare? Dewiness? Radiance? A desire to wear inappropriate clothing?
E: Nope. The Mariah Carey side has not made me glow with preternatural health and youth. Nor has the £5 side. Absolutely nothing to declare.
M: Well, I find this all rather deflating.
E: I know. But noone ever said science would be fun. Well, they might have done, but they LIED.
M: This review is a downer.
E: Do not despair, M, I am planning to report back at the weekend after extensive experiments with each side of my face. Do they repel goats? Can I see better out of one eye than the other? Does one side conduct electricity better than the other? Watch this space!
M: Can we just drink gin instead?
E: I’ll join you when I’ve finished dissecting this toad.
E: “Keep skin amazing” says the slogan. Yeah, keep it amazing by getting tiny people to dance on it.
M: And by stretching it on cheap ass wooden frames.
E: Gross. Serial killer stuff.
M: The tiny people are wearing silver bodysuits. Who does that???
E: Speed skaters. They must be speed skaters. On your skin.
M: I got this flyer from a super serious salesgirl in Boots. She had a sash. A sheer infusion sash.
E: What did she tell you?
M: She was telling me all about the benefits of Strays 3
E: Ha. Not strays, STRATYS 3. Strays would be, like, lost dogs and stuff.
M: Stray kittens. They squash those into the cream with one of those tiny garlic presses. She was talking about it like it’s some sort of precious, caviar infused potion. Lady, it’s FUCKING VASELINE.
E: Ha. Can I just say how much I am enjoying the highly technical “deep down” layer of skin. So you have: 1. The epidermis 2. The dermis and 3. The “deep down” skin.
M: Why are the tiny silver skin infection people on strings? They are hanging on wires.
E: Ooooh. I’m getting a nasty Cirque du Soleil vibe about that. They are going to perform bad, over-dramatic circus acts.
M: Possibly using the medium of mime. Anyway, I tried the Vaseline with Strays.
M: Well, first she led me to the lower shelf on the “body cream” aisle and made me smell it. Then she squirted some onto my hand with a manic pleading look.
E: What, no sample?
M: NO. NO SAMPLE. I’m pretty sure she tried to write a message on my hand in cream.
E: What, like “the tiny people between the layers of my skin are holding my organs hostage”?
M: Yes. Anyway, it was meh. And strong smelling.
E: Because it’s made from petrol and kitten puree.
M: Look at the website. And by the way NEVER make me google Vaseline Infusion again. No good can come of it .
E: It’s just bollocks really, isn’t it? Stratys 3 “Moisturises all layers of the skin”. That’s impossible. Also “infusion” says herbal tea for grannies to me.
M: Ouch. Yes. But look, at the bottom in tiny, secret writing, it says “stratum corneum (surface skin)”.
M: They are basically using Latin to confuse us. Condescending bastards.
E: Nice try. But we have an education, Vaseline, you assholes.
M: The website says “discover superior moisture suspended like never before”. Is that what we want for our moisture these days?
E: So that must be what the speed skaters are. Moisture.
M: Do you think the saleslady had to go to Cream University? Run by the Petrolatum Academy?
E: Probably. Stratys 3 sounds like a man’s razor doesn’t it?
M: Yes. This is a girl cream MADE BY BOYS. NERD BOYS. Look at the product names!
E: They sound like something from a burns unit to me.
M: This stuff is made by boys who never get any, isn’t it?
E: I think it must be. Go back to world of warcraft, nerdboys. You don’t belong here.
M: Orks need moisture too. Orks? Orcs? DORKS.
E: They shouldn’t let the virgins from the chemistry labs make body creams. I mean, I bet I know how they test it out.
E: “Suitable for ALL areas of the body”. You know it’s true.
M: “Oh yeah, baby, who’s your orc”.
E: I don’ t think we like this do we?
M: No. It’s only, like, 20p a bottle and I’m sure it moisturizes, but I don’t want it to.
E: No sir. None of your suspended moisture thank you.
Vaseline Sheer infusion
£0.20 £3.33 on special introductory offer from Boots