Primers Part 1: Painting Face Houses

Hi everybody! I’m back! Sorry for falling off the map, there. Last summer happened, complete with two vacations (one with my bf’s family; one just with the bf) and a visit from the parents. What started as a little break from blogging became a sabbatical as we got ready for a short move. Weeks stretched into months. Tumbleweeds rolled across this site. Spiders took up residence. And then a friend of mine was like “what happened to your makeup blog?” and I was like “um… massive personal failings and inexcusable neglect?” and she was like “And? Quit languishing in self-hatred and get back to writing!” and I was like “K”.  I really did miss you guys! Grovel grovel! Sad emojis!

Let’s jump back in. For keepsies this time. Maybe. Don’t mind the spiders.

And yes, we’ll get back into sunscreen somewhere along the lines as we get back into summer (I owe you part 2 after, all), but first, something completely different!

*clears throat*

I grew up starting my makeup routine like I’m betting a lot of you guys did: with concealer and foundation. Bam. Base face two-thirds of the way done. Somewhere along the line, however, everything got way more complicated. Am I talking about contouring? Nope. Strobing? No. Baking? Hell no, honey. I just received an email from one makeup brand suggesting I drop my current bullshit, outdated routine and move on to something called non-touring. That ain’t what we’re talking about today either. But the word “non-touring” bothers me for some reason and I thought I’d make you suffer the same vague sense of unease.

Actually, today, we’re kicking off a series covering the universal Step One for all of those techniques. The holy starter grail! Primers!

There are gels, oils, and “waters”. Some primers claim to moisturize, some color correct, some absorb excess oil, and almost all boast that they’ll for sure erase that most dreaded facet of human existence: pores. I began my journey by staring, wide-eyed, at the vast range of primers showcased on one end cap at Sephora and then at an equally vast range of foundations, arranged on a neighboring end cap. I could feel everyone else in the store holding their breath, suspense hanging thickly in the air. Would I be the first to successfully pair everything in column A to the right products in column B? I’m pretty sure that getting them all right causes balloons to rain down and sirens to sound and you’re rewarded with a picture on the wall and permanent VIB Rouge status. I can’t confirm this, though, and neither can you, because no one has ever passed that particular test. It’s the Water Temple level of Zelda for the cosmetic world. I’m completely on board with my makeup not running down my face or turning my skin into a dry, flaky Martian hellscape, but seriously, I am in desperate need of a few hints or a cheat code or something.

Internet, I beg of you: haaaalp?

To Youtube we go (for a start)! Then what say we mix and match a bunch of primers with a bunch of foundation types (cushion, liquid, powder, and stick) and see what happens (and then find out why)? Maybe I’ll even give a go at running or swimming with a couple makeup base pairs on in search of a magic combo that will allow me to rule the summer months with an iron fist from this day forward. All shall bow before my sweat-proof glory!

What’s in all these primers? What do they mean by “water” primer? Is silicone gel bad for my face? What key ingredients matter most when comparing primers and foundations? What type of primer works with the most makeup? Is there anything harmful or patently useless in primers that I should be aware of? Are primers even worth using in the first place? Do they really make a difference in the wear time of foundations and in my overall makeup results?

What about eye primers? Should they get their own article, because this seems like a lot to cover already (probably, yes)?

Who started this whole primer fad anyway? How far back does it go? And whoever came first – is their product still being made? Can I try it? Spoiler: yes, and I found it! Is it the best or just the first? Are Korean primers better? Are drug store and high-end primers really that different? Should I use multiple primers?

What about the multi-taskers I mentioned in the beginning that do more than just prime? Is there a really good one out there that’ll save me time and money by – gasp – performing as promised? What’s the difference between a primer and a CC cream? Where do they draw the line? Are skin–toned things not technically primers? Does that make it a tinted moisturizer or bb cream or something else instead? If they’re clear, green, or purple are they primers or just color-correctors?

Why the in the world does this one contain egg yolk?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honey and gold flecks: wt actual f?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I put them all on at the same time, will my face melt off?

(image probably way too graphic to exist here)

Let’s find out!

Sunscreen! Part 1: So Many Acronyms!

I’m back guys! Sorry for the long absence!

Let’s talk sun protection. Granted, it’s technically fall now, and you’re probably breaking out lots of clothes with sleeves and layers and scarfy bits, but the sun’s not actually going anywhere. If you’re at a high altitude, in a tropical/equatorial zone, or maybe somewhere in the southern hemisphere, the UVB rays aren’t even going to diminish in their vicious intensity. As a melanin-deprived individual, for me the threat is constant, no matter where I am. I’m pretty sure my people must’ve adapted for arctic cave dwelling. Or maybe we’re meant to be nocturnal?

Oh hello, Hilo!

Rebuking all of that, I went to Hawaii last month. I have the best patchy leg tan now, you guys! Related advice: if you’re going to kayak, then snorkel, then get back in the kayak to go back from whence you came, maybe reapply sunscreen somewhere in between those steps. Don’t just lay back in the kayak and lounge with your arms grazing the surface of the water for an indefinite amount of time. At least, not if you need to make use of your knees at all the next day. Ouch. So much ouch.

But Nichol, you might be asking (because in my head this is often a dialogue) what about reef-safe sunscreen? What about CHEMICALS? What does SPF even mean? If I don’t ever burn, why do I need to care?

Gah! Question barrage! Take a seat, I guess. This might take a while. Tl:dr: anyone who tells you not to wear sunscreen in order to avoid the potential cancer-causing ingredients is dumb, because you know where your biggest skin cancer risk comes from? The sun. When in doubt, put on a hat and throw on some form of sunscreen, even if it costs $2.99/a gallon and smells a little like paint. In the long run, you will be better off. Unless you confused sunscreen and actual paint. What did I tell you before about always reading labels???

Do it! DOOOO ITTT! Protect thyself! (photo from FDA via Wikimedia Commons)

What does SPF stand for and what does it mean for me?

SPF stands for sun protection factor. The rating system was developed in 1962, but is only meant to measure a sunscreen’s effect on the absorption of UVB rays. Those are the rays that will burn you. UVA rays, on the other hand, are more insidious. They’re longer wavelength rays that penetrate deeper into your skin and are responsible for pre-mature aging and many forms of skin cancer. UVB rays are also carcinogenic, but they’re not going to age you as much, because your body can just kick out the damaged cells (Enjoying that peeling skin? You immune system says ‘you’re welcome’. It’s like your cat bringing dead mice to you. Or your gall bladder making stones. The intent was good, even if the result sucks.). Also, UVA rays can penetrate glass and hit us with a consistent intensity throughout daylight hours. UVB rays reach their peak between 10AM and 4PM, and are more intense in the summer months, at high altitudes, and around reflective surfaces (like water, ice, snow, or giant floor mirrors).

What SPF translates to in terms of hours of protection varies by person. To figure out what this means for you, there’s a nifty little equation:

Minutes to burn without sunscreen x SPF number = maximum sun exposure time

How long does it take for you to burn without sunscreen? You should apparently know that, even though that number obviously will vary based on where you are and what you plan on doing outside. Anyway, take an educated guess, plug it into the equation and BAM! There you have the maximum time you should reasonably expect to be protected. Or, put another way, whatever your baseline burn time is, an SPF 15 claim means you should be able to expect 15x that, an SPF 30 would be 30x, and so on.

But wait – your educated guess might not even help you, because people in the real world tend to use far less sunscreen than people testing it out in lab settings to determine the bottle-listed SPF value, which could mean you’re getting as little as half the protection time you’ve just calculated. Point being, you should underestimate the times and reapply often. Especially if you, like me, are pale enough to almost emit a faint glow and/or spend 95% of your time either in the water or hiking uphill until you weep and sweat sunscreen like it’s your only remaining bodily fluid. Man, I should really give in and take up spelunking. In the arctic.

You also shouldn’t count on an SPF of 50 or 70 giving you much longer and better protection than an SPF of 15 or 30. In addition to the confusing and flawed nature of the seemingly basic formula above, SPF also indicates UVB absorption, but not in a way that makes much sense on the face of it. SPF 15 will absorb roughly 93.3 percent of UVB rays, but if you go mad and shoot up to SPF 50, you’re still only moving up to 98 percent UVB absorption.

Bottom line here: shoot for SPF 30 or above and reapply at least every couple hours. SPF provides a decent jumping off point for understanding UVB protection, but there are a lot of issues with relying solely on that little number. Also, I feel like we’re leaving out something huge…

What about UVA?

Oh yeah! UVA! That guy! What’s he been up to? Where did all these wrinkles come from?

Oh, there he is, over in that terrifying, sci-fi tanning bed

Most modern sunscreens contain added ingredients to block or absorb UVA rays, as well as UVB. Look for the terms UVA/UVB protection, broad spectrum, or multi-spectrum on the label. You could also check for avobenzone, oxybenzone, zinc oxide or titanium dioxide in the ingredient list. Those will help. Unfortunately, there’s still no consensus just how much those will help or how much of those ingredients we need to throw in to even ensure adequate protection.

If you’re still getting super tan, that might mean you need to try another combination of ingredients to up your UVA protection numbers. If you’re burning, that’s, once again, a UVB problem. You likely need to reapply your sunscreen more often and, if you’re using SPF 30 or below, consider switching to a higher SPF value. Also look for sweat- and water-proof sunscreens (but still reapply after sweaty or watery activities). It’s also best to initially apply sunscreen 15 to 30 minutes BEFORE sun exposure, to give it a chance to absorb (unless you’re going solely for UV blocking/physical sunscreens, which we will get around to, I promise). Some sunscreens claim to absorb quicker, but, especially if you intend to hop into a body of water after application, it’s still a good idea to observe the recommended wait time. Otherwise, you’re probably doing more to sun-protect the respiratory system of nearby fish than to protect yourself.

One More Acronym I Keep Seeing: UPF

UPF is like SPF for clothing. As with SPF, the number is based on your ratio of burn time without protection to burn time with protection (although, in measuring UPF, they’re using instruments to calculate UV penetration levels instead of just burning people).

Pictured: Non-optimal summer fashion

Tighter woven, UV absorbing (darker colored), and thicker fabrics provide a greater level of natural protection.The typical UPF rating for standard western summer clothing (think, a flimsy t-shirt) is around a 6. Protective fabrics, like rash guards or outdoor athletic wear, tend to hover around a UPF of 30. The highest possible UPF rating is 50+, which blocks 97.5 to 98 percent of UV radiation. I guess, theoretically, if you were wearing a lead coat around, you could probably reach a higher protective rating, but at that point you’re facing other issues, both from overheating and from all that lead hugging your sweaty body. Also, if that’s your solution, swimming is pretty much out. You know what? General rule of thumb: do not wear lead for your outdoor activities unless those activities involve nuclear testing (of the legal, government sanctioned variety).

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And that’s it for part one. Hopefully this gives you a baseline understanding of UV rays and key sun protection terms. Up next, we’ll cover the wide variety of sunscreens available and try to figure out if any of them are doing more harm than good (to us and to the environment). There is an enormous amount of stuff to cover on this topic and a ridiculous amount of environmental- and health-based controversy. Hopefully I’m able to do it some justice. If you’re a dermatologist or some kind of sunscreen expert and would be willing to submit to ALL THE QUESTIONS, let me know, because I aim for accuracy and crave your wisdom. Also, thanks to How Stuff Works and to The Skin Cancer Foundation, both of whom I’ve relied on a lot for research. Both are excellent sources for more info.

Creepy Crawly Lippies and You

Be forewarned: today we’re delving into our first creepy crawly topic, and, oh yes, there will be pics. Sorry if that bugs you. Heh heh. Bugs. Get it? Because we’re learning about cochineal scale insects.

A big ole’ jar of fun times

Carmine is the dye derived from cochineal. It can be found in a variety of foods, hair and skin care products, lipsticks, eye shadows, and blushes. Basically, in anything pink or red. Cochineal refers to the insects themselves. They are true bugs, of the order hemiptera, which means they have piercing, sucking mouthparts. Don’t panic. They only use their terrifying beak-things to drink from prickly pear cactus pads. They’re herbivores.

I am so sorry if all of this leads to nightmares. I just… I am not good at not being creepy when it comes to insects. I’m way too entranced by them.

awwww

The chemical extract we so value exists in the female cochineals as an ant repellant. It is not poisonous and neither is the eventual dye. So much misinformation exists on the internet about these little guys and I don’t know why. Are you all really that skeeved out about insects? Is that it? Because they’re fine, I promise. They won’t ever even come in contact with you while they’re alive unless you make a habit of sleeping outdoors in the Mexican desert on a bed of cacti, in which case bugs can’t possibly be at the top of your list of concerns.

Pictured: possibly the least comfy thing ever (Image courtesy pf Zyance (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons)

Cochineal (oh by the way, it’s pronounced either coach-ih-neel  or cotch-ih-neel, whichever feels right to you) was first used by the Mayan and Aztec civilizations as a fabric dye. Colonization by Spain brought the dye to Europe for the first time in the 1500s, where it became highly coveted and pricy, replacing many older red dye sources due to its colorfastness and vibrancy. For 300 years the bugs reigned supreme. Then science happened, as it so often does. In 1863, Alizarin crimson became the first natural pigment to be reproduced synthetically, using coal tar. It was cheap. It was mass-producible. It was awesome. It was hugely popular. Also, like almost everything else in the 1800s, it was carcinogenic.

Cochineal production ground almost to a halt, existing only for the sake of tradition (Thanks, stubborn elderly people!) until the second half of the 20^th century, when we began to question the effects the synthetic alternatives were having on our health. Again, refined coal tar. On our faces. All the time. Nowadays, if you’re using cochineal products, you’re likely supporting small scale farmers in Peru, the Canary Islands, and Mexico, helping them to make a living farming the bugs. As with jojoba, this all occurs in a desert landscape, sustainably and with little agricultural water use. Because we’re working with bugs here, pest control measures (to protect the cacti and the cochineal bugs from predators) must take care to not prematurely kill off the cash crop, so these farms aren’t producing many excess toxins. It’s a great set-up.

Oh, and many products still use coal tar or petroleum derivatives for red hues in lieu of carmine. For real. Natural is usually a better alternative than those options.

On the flipside, these are tiny living animals. For the purposes of this blog (and because they’re neat and tie dye is fun), I ordered a jar of dried cochineal. I’ve dyed a tank top with these before, but I had forgotten how smelly they are in their raw form. I’ll show you the results in a separate post, since this one is once again soooo long. It’s undeniable when you’re working closely with them that these are dead things. It’s harsh. It’s unpleasant. It’s obviously not vegan or kosher or halal friendly.

Cochineal dyes also cause an allergic reaction in a small subset of the population. That’s why, in 2009, the FDA mandated that cochineal be explicitly listed on ingredient labels rather than vaguely hidden behind the label “natural color”. Depending on where you are and where your makeup comes from, however, you might still see it listed as cochineal extract, carmine, natural red 4, C.I. 75470, or E120. If you’re allergic to shrimp and shellfish, you might want to get tested for carmine/cochineal allergies as well, since carmine dye is used in everything from yogurt to lunch meat and could be angering your intestines as we speak. Any time you’re unsure of how you’ll react to a new product, swatch a tiny bit on the back of your hand before you buy. As someone with ultra-sensitive skin, I can’t stress that enough. Swatch and wait. Hang around Ulta until you’re fairly certain nothing is happening. Better au naturale than au bleeding, cracking, clown-lipped. That’s what I… sometimes… say.

If you are allergic and scrutinizing labels, always scan the actual ingredient list. Front of the label buzzwords are largely meaningless. Just because a company doesn’t test on animals, that  does not mean they refrain from using beeswax, shellac, cochineal, or squalene as ingredients. Even companies that advertise as hypoallergenic may still use cochineal in some products.

That said, let’s wrap up with a few carmine-free recommendations, shall we?

First off, E.L.F. cosmetics are as cheap as it gets and, save for one of their brush lines (which is made with horsehair), they are vegan. I’m loving their HD blush in headliner and their matte lip color in praline.

Some NYX products are carmine-free, while others aren’t. Up there you’ll see a nice matte red, called Alabama, which claims to contain no carmine. For an at least semi-complete listing on their products go here. I, personally, love their matte lipstick line. The colors are amazing, the matte isn’t super-drying, and it’s super affordable ($4 each, I believe?).

From left to right: E.L.F. blush (not blended out at all), Butter London lippy, NYX matte lipstick, Tarte Tartelette lipstick, and E.L.F. lip matte lip crayon

As far as prestige brands go, I’m having wintery fun with this Butter London Lippy in Ruby Murray (Scored at half price. Holla at the Ulta clearance aisle!). For Butter London’s vegan product list head over here. I’m also indulging in Tarte’s Tartelette lipstick in ethereal pink, which is a new release that is perfect for spring. It’s a rich neutral staple (trendy!), it’s made with clay pigments, and it’s a little bit minty. Both of these are carmine-free, but may contain beeswax. Tarte does carry some vegan products, labeled helpfully with a green V on the product pages of their website (it will be to the left of the ‘add to bag’ button) if you’re interested.

Coming up: a dyeing experience, as well as our first toxic baddie. Hopefully those two will be unrelated and completely separate.

WTF is Jojoba?

The Run Down

What is it? Waxy extract from the seed pods of a desert shrub

Vegan? Yes.

Possible allergen? Not known to be. Swatch a tiny bit on the back of your hand first if you’re worried. All sources I’ve found say it’s safe for those with nut allergies.

Toxic? No. But it is a strong laxative. Do not eat. Ingesting a tiny amount from your lip balm won’t hurt you, though.

Smells like? Nothing. Refined jojoba oil has no smell.

My artistic rendering, because better safe than copyright disputed

The Walk About

Over and over again I’ve watched youtubers and bloggers lose their shit over jojoba (in a good way). It’s taken a backseat recently to newer fad oils like Argan and macadamia nut, but believe me, ole’ jojoba can still be found chillin’ in the midst of many an ingredient label, quietly doing its thing. What exactly is that thing, though?

Glad you hypothetically asked! Let’s dig in.

First off, it’s pronounced ho-HO-ba. It’s easy to remember. Just imagine what sounds Santa Claus would make if he suddenly turned into a sheep and you’ve got it.

Jojoba is a shrub found throughout the deserts of the Southwestern U.S. and Mexico. Jojoba oil comes from the seeds of the plant, where it exists naturally as a wax ester. In other words, it’s not quite an oil. Total misnomer! Wax esters are long-chain polymers made up of a fatty acid paired with a fatty alcohol. This substance makes jojoba both unique among plant species and particularly well-suited to human use, because this oily, waxy structure is far closer to sebum – our naturally occurring hair and skin oil – than to jojoba’s plant cousins. On a molecular level, most plant oils are instead made up of triglycerides, which are shorter-chain, bulkier polymers with no attached alcohols.

The O’odham peoples of the Sonoran desert were the first humans to make use of jojoba nuts. White explorers noted that the O’odham tribes used the plant for treating burns, moisturizing skin, and as a laxative and that jojoba seemed super effective at all of those things.

Though a few Western botanists might’ve been psyched over these revelations, history had other stuff going on, and pretty much tossed jojoba on the backburner for a couple hundred more years. Why waste time and money processing plants in the desert heat when you can just go out and hunt for some sweet, sweet whale oil instead? High five! Am I right? Anybody? No? Party poopers.

Unfortunately, yeah, whale oil is also a great dupe for human sebum, and history is awful. The U.S. didn’t ban whale oil importation until 1971, thus finally paving the way for jojoba’s moment in the spotlight.

Take a bow, jojoba oil!

Since it requires little water to cultivate and grows readily in terrible desert soil, withstanding whatever heat you’d care to throw at it, jojoba is super eco-friendly, as well.

Window Shopping

Personally, I’d like to see it showing up in more hair conditioners. The most affordable conditioner I spotted with jojoba in the mix? Herbal Essences’ Smooth Collection Conditioner. I didn’t buy that, though, because it also contains sulfates, which in my book is kind of counter-productive. Instead, we’re rolling with Freeman’s Papaya and Awapuhi Conditioner (picked up on clearance at Bed, Bath, and Beyond). This conditioner has an almost gel-like consistency and a great papaya scent.

As far as oil cleansers go, my pick is The Face Shop’s Rice Water Bright Cleansing Oil. It’s a Korean import, but if you’re on the west coast of the U.S., at least, it’s not too hard to track down.

Bath and Body Works is also a wonderland of jojoba oil. Below are two of my favorite scents, just for funsies: Meyer lemon and sweet pea. Both are lotions. Sweet pea is, of course, a classic, and a long-time bath staple of mine. Also hiding out in this picture, because I originally divided everything up differently and am not staging a reshoot, is one of Demeter Fragrance’s massage and body oils, in my favorite of their quirky, iconic scents: sushi. It’s a light, sweet, gingery sort of smell, featuring nothing at all fish related, in case you were worried.

If your lips aren’t jojoba-ed up enough, I recommend these guys. The cheap, but gloriously effective E.L.F. lip exfoliator (a scrub in lipstick form) and the oh-so-popular EOS lip balm in strawberry.

The Craft Table

You can also just buy jojoba oil on its own from Trader Joe’s or Amazon or possibly a local beauty supplier. It’s great to use as-is on skin and hair or you can go all DIY with these tips:

• Combine with aloe for topical sunburn soother (aloe and jojoba are a match made in desert heaven)
• Mix jojoba oil with either olive oil or a vitamin E oil blend (Burt’s Bees sells one) for a homemade take on the oil face wash/makeup remover trend
• Mix it into your favorite lip scrub or lip balm recipe for a little added smoothness (for a basic, no-frills scrub, combine jojoba oil with a bit of white sugar, honey, and vanilla)

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Any other ideas for uses? Thoughts on jojoba? Other jojoba-infused products to try? Let me know below.  And if you really want to dive into the chemistry of jojoba oil, head on over here.

I’ll be back on Monday with another enthralling beauty investigation, but the topic for that one depends on whether or not I get a certain creepy-crawly beauty staple delivered on time. Fingers crossed!

What madness is this?

The interwebs are full of scary warnings concerning the toxic sludge we slather all over ourselves every day. How much is just shameless fear mongering, though? And what about the beauty ingredients that aren’t evil incarnate? All the random fad plants and oils that crop up each season (pun totally intended) often remain a mystery to me, and I’m guessing to most people who aren’t actively developing them or professionally using them (i.e. – almost everyone). What ‘minerals’ are actually in mineral make-ups? Can I actually absorb vitamins through my skin? What’s with all the dye codes? Can hair heal? Is hair alive? Because, past the follicle, I don’t really think it is, yet the shower orgasm lady says otherwise. What the hell is jojoba? Aluminum chlorohydrate? EDTA? Shellac? Is any of this stuff actually helping anything? Is ALL of it slowly killing us???

Seriously – what’s in all this? What IS ALL THIS?

Stick around as I answer these and many more burning questions in what is sure to be one of the nerdiest beauty blogs ever. I promise this’ll be a fun little adventure. We won’t just be diving into the dry land of label reading and molecular structure diagrams. I mean, I totally will, but I won’t force that stuff on you unless that’s what you’re all secretly clamoring for. Let me know in the comments if you do, in fact, desperately need triglyceride drawings and technical jargon. It’s okay. We’re all slightly weird and super curious here. By ‘we’ I currently mean just me, so there you go. Weirdness point made.

I plan on covering everything from mysterious natural ingredients, to vaguely labeled or confusingly coded ingredients, to the toxic/harsh/drying baddies we’ve all been warned about. I might also occasionally venture into the make-up and hygiene components of eras past, for funsies. It’s a proven fact that our ancestors were kind of crazy and reckless. You guys, urine is never the answer.

So that’s what’s happening. Stay tuned for my first pretty element, our mysterious friend jojoba, and comment below if you’d like to suggest a future topic. I’m all ears.