Pretend You Travelled to France With These Skincare Launches

On Emily in Paris, Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu gives a master class in resting Parisienne face .

When I arrive in France, I take my jet-lagged self to the pharmacy even before unpacking, because there’s nothing like waking up the next morning to an abundantly stocked bathroom. I would be thrilled to discover any of these new products (below) on those legendarily jammed pharmacie shelves, so I’m pretty chuffed that they have landed in Canada. Especially now, given that we don’t know when we’ll be safely travelling there again.

French women are as careful with money (that’s a polite expression for cheap) as they are discerning about everything from strawberries at the market to their wardrobes (fewer, more expensive items) and of course, skincare. They are fanatical about finding reasonably priced pharmacy offerings that work and are elegantly fragranced.

Put your purchases in a straw market basket and make believe that you bought them in a charming French town.

I can easily imagine Emily’s boss Sylvie, (the one semi-realistic character on Netflix’s Emily in Paris) buying any of these items, while saving the majority of her hard-earned euros for Sabbia Rosa lingerie and plunging-neckline silk blouses.

Klorane’s new cornflower anti-fatigue hydrating range seems tailor-made for harried Parisiennes like Sylvie (and those of us on the less-cool side of the Atlantic) who need skin calming with intense hydration. The Wake up Call Serum with hyaluronic acid provides a sizeable hit of soothing moisture, which is perfect if you’ve been smoking in your office. (I am kidding. Do not smoke in your office like Sylvie or anywhere else! But do try the serum.) And the Nighttime Hydrating Mask is softly scented for expensive-smelling aromatherapy along with overnight skin plumping. Available at Jean Coutu Quebec.

Klorane Cornflower Skincare smells beautifully high end.

Nuxe, whose Huile Prodigieuse is a staple of ‘French Pharmacy Top Ten Beauty Products’ lists, have reimagined their organic Nuxe Bio range with new products and new natural origin ingredients, all in upgraded packaging of heavy, dark green glass. I picture Sylvie using the powdered fruit kernel and salicylic acid Micro-Exfoliating Cleansing Mask after a hard day of Gallic outrage over some faux pas that Emily cluelessly committed. She could then finish with the Ultimate Night Recover Oil with antioxidant and omega 3 fatty acid-rich rice bran oil to both soften her skin (please stop smoking, Sylvie) and protect her skin’s barrier function.

Nuxe Bio is luxe and efficacious.

And finally, L’Occitane’s new Incredible Recipe Deodorant in verveine (lemon verbena) in a sleek recyclable tin has ‘French pharmacy’ cred to burn. The natural baking soda and cornstarch formula with a grassy, lemon scent is the polar opposite of that very North American ‘shower clean’-smelling deodorant in your bathroom. If you were thinking of switching to a natural deo, do it now instead of during the boiling hot summer, right?

L’Occitane’s new.lemon verbena creamy natural deodorant is a citrusy stink repeller and mood booster.

Knock on Wood by Tory Burch Eases You into Autumn on an Orange and Vetiver Cloud

Tory Burch Knock on Wood is a vetiver and blood orange fever dream.

Tory Burch Knock on Wood (50 ml extrait de parfum $135 CAN, Sephora) is semi-deranged but in the best possible way.

It’s as if the brand had a safe, rose-and-magnolia ‘elegant lady’ scent, but after hours, when everyone had gone home, someone snuck in and topped up the tanks with gallons of blood orange oil and resinous, jungle-humid vetiver. (That’s how perfumery works, right? Giant vats at the office?)

The blood orange cleanly slices through vetiver’s darkness, although it doesn’t stick around long. What you are left with is a sunlit earthiness with a spicy aspect and a hidden floral undertow.

It’s the perfect scent for a walk on a rainy November day. With social distancing a fact of life into the foreseeable future, one should go full-on with fragrance, because no one around you will smell it otherwise. I like to give myself a good blast and then stroll through the neighbourhood, leaving a brilliant sillage.

19/99 Beauty: Why Would I Want To Look Younger?

Campaign images like this make my heart swell. (Photo courtesy of 19/99 Beauty.)

There’s a scene in Killing Eve where assassin-for-hire Villanelle (Jodie Comer) chides fellow murderess Dasha (70-year-old Harriet Walter, all attitude and pencilled-on brows) for lighting a cigarette. “If you quit smoking you would look ten years younger.”

“Why would I want to look ten years younger?” Dasha shoots back. I may not kill people for a living (do what you love, right?) but I agree with Dasha. I am officially past trying, or caring.

Harriet Walter as Dasha, taking a break from her exhausting job.

This freeing attitude aligns with the vision behind 19/99 Beauty, a new cosmetics line for women who “want to define their own beauty and don’t give a shit about what is considered appropriate.” The collection is meant for women from 19 to 99 (get it?), but I like to believe it was created just for fifty-plus women.

19/99 Beauty’s Voros is a bold, assertive red. (Photo courtesy of 19/99 Beauty.)

The brainchild of former Bite Beauty executives, Stephanie Spence and Camille Katona, 19/99 Beauty is their response to seeing “diversity becoming more mainstream, but still under one lens of beauty,” Katona tells me. “We saw an opportunity to widen this one definition and create something new.”

For the products, the duo collaborated with longtime makeup artist Simone Otis, who herself felt ignored by advertising’s default representations of older women: “there’s the wacky old lady with blue hair or the Ralph Lauren woman,” she told me, identifying two of the culture’s more fatigued tropes. (I was nodding so furiously in agreement at this part, I may have pulled something.)

Adds Otis: “Why can’t I look cool? I just want to look cool.”

To that end, the line “merges a fashionable aesthetic with a message that is open and honest, but still comes from a place that’s beautifully branded and inspiring,” adds Spence. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Makeup is meant to be fun and transformative and cheering. And while it’s nice to have lofty marketing rhetoric, it’s ultimately about the products.

Elaisha & Michelle both wearing Voros (Photo courtesy of 19/99 Beauty)

19/99 Beauty launched this past April with a transparent high-shine gloss and one universally-wearable, red pencil, Voros (red in Hungarian, fyi). “Red is timeless, ageless,” explains Katona. “And you can apply (the pencil) precisely or diffuse it for something softer.” (Witness the red used on both lips and eyes in the top image.)

Elaisha in the Lustro highlighter pencil. (Photo courtesy of 19/99 Beauty.)

The collection is small and carefully considered. Along with the red, there’s pinky nude Neutra, and now, just-launched eye pencils, a rich brown (Barna), and a champagne (Lustro), each formulated to be used anywhere on the face, and each only $26CAN. (There is also a US site at 1999beauty.com.) Bolder shades are expected next spring.

The pencils are made in Italy and are the high quality you’d expect from a pricier luxury brand. (Do not get me started on the disappointment that is the ‘merely okay’ quality of a lot of the offerings from direct-to-consumer industry star, Glossier. Products that you will receive through the mail really need to “surprise and delight,” to use this most cliched of marketing terms.)

19/99’s pencils are richly pigmented, the highlighter has the perfect shimmer-to-transparency ratio (no disco ball here, just luminosity) and they all glide smoothly over skin, which is key when wielding a pencil anywhere in the vicinity of an over-50 eyelid.

And if you do catch the vibe and want to try the red as eyeliner, the duo couldn’t be happier.

“Makeup is temporary,'“ observes Spence. “wear a brighter bolder colour even if it’s just for an hour— or five minutes.”

Atelier Cologne Iris Rebelle Smells Like My Dream Library

Iris Rebelle is a notional library made real

Spraying Atelier Cologne’s Iris Rebelle Cologne Absolue ($195, Sephora) is the olfactory equivalent of rereading an old favourite book while nestled in a library armchair. It’s such a wonderful fragrance that I’m baffled why it never got the adoration it deserves. (It launched in 2018.)

Iris Rebelle actually evokes old books: sweetish, and smelling vaguely like pencil shavings. (I mean this as a compliment, in case that wasn’t clear.) A 2009 study with the fantastic title “Material Degradomics: On the Smell of Old Books”, describes that elusive book scent as “a combination of grassy notes with a tang of acids and a hint of vanilla over an underlying mustiness.”

Apparently lignan, a component of wood-based (aka paper) books breaks down after years and begins to smell like vanilla. Iris Rebelle does not smell musty, but its black pepper and bergamot top notes might remind someone with an overactive imagination of degraded paper.

Add Iris and lavender for earthiness and soft powder, and then sit the whole affair atop a warm base of patchouli, woods and white musk. It’s the very embodiment of never-trying-too-hard elegance.

Iris as a perfume note is like the most complex violet ever. It deserves its own national holiday (ok, maybe not here but definitely in France) for the way it elevates everything it touches. It can be, by turn, powdery and romantic (Frederic Malle’s Iris Poudre), ethereally dusty and cozy (Floral Street Iris Goddess), or even sexy and startlingly metallic (Prada Infusion d’Iris). Or it can be like Iris Rebelle, which envelops you, saying ‘come sit and read and wait out the winter while smelling really really good.’

Guerlain Eau de Cologne Impériale #perfumeeverydamnday

Guerlain Eau de Cologne Impériale

One of my lesser-known skills is the ability to rationalize pretty much any expenditure, no matter how extravagant. Apparently this need to surround myself with “nice” things is standard issue Taurus behaviour, so I don’t fight it. (Besides, I still appreciate a good Cheeto. There is no snack too lowbrow for me. But I digress.)

Take fragrance, for example. A good eau de cologne should be considered a critical element in your daily toilette, ergo it’s as quotidian a purchase as TP or dental floss. So what that it costs a bit more than a 12-pack of Charmin?

Guerlain Eau de Cologne Impériale (The Bay, $121) is an essential with some screamingly fancy bona fides, having been created for Napoleon III’s wife, the Empress Eugénie in 1853. Its formula is very citrus-forward, anchored with traditional notes of lemon, neroli (oil from the flowers of a bitter orange tree), petitgrain (oil from the leaves and green twigs of that same tree) and bergamot to add complexity to the lemon. “Lemon could be sharp,” observes Guerlain’s in-house perfumer Thierry Wasser. “Bergamot is a little delicate, floral.” So you get floral complexity along with that citrussy bite.

Because of all the citrus, Eau de Cologne Impériale won’t last long on your skin, so make sure you give your clothes a good blast as well as your hair, so you can maintain that aura of fancy European clean for hours. It’s some much-needed armour for grey days.

Oh, and if you need me to rationalize any upcoming pricy purchases, just ask. I am happy to help in any way I can.

Dr. Roebuck's Surf Chaser Reverse Aging Serum for the Impossible to Please

Not too heavy, not too light

It’s easy to get Goldilocks-level picky about skincare: one serum is too watery, or a cream is too heavy and smells old ladyish. (But why are so many rich creams strongly fragranced? Do brands think anyone with dry skin is an elderly women who has lost her sense of smell?)

If your skin has gotten drier and lightweight serums feel like a waste of time, Dr. Roebuck’s Surf Chaser Reverse Aging Serum ($75 Can, Shoppers Drug Mart) will give you the the right amount of soothing moisture without feeling sticky, heavy, gloopy.

Surf Chaser calls itself a serum, which I don’t get at all, because it’s almost a lightweight balm, disappearing handily into skin but leaving it feeling nicely plumped and smoothed. It has what cosmetic formulators call an ‘elegant texture’ and is perfect for when you just need a little bit more but don’t want to start spackling with super-rich creams. 

And as nice as it feels, Surf Chaser also feeds your skin with peptides and amino acids to support collage production and minimize the look of wrinkles, and it contains Spilanthes Acmella Flower Extract, a natural active ingredient which mimics the effects of Botox and may even stimulate collagen production.

Dr. Roebuck’s is an Australian dermatologist brand, run by the good doctors’ (not a typo, both parents were doctors) twin daughters who exude cheer, intelligence and good health. They radiate a kind of glamorous practicality, like you’d be an idiot not to use what makes them so glowy.

Dr. Roebuck’s feels like an under-the-radar discovery, despite having been around since 2012 and having launched in Canada in 2014. (A soothing cream for reactive skin based on a 30 year old recipe was their first product.)

The line’s marketing trots out all the standard green beauty buzzwords, assuring you that it contains ‘no nasties’, but textures and cutting edge ingredients and formulas (and spare, elegant packaging) make it feel luxe, so you don’t have to sacrifice anything to stay green.

Forever Summer: Caudalie Soleil des Vignes

Caudalie Soleil des Vignes is pure beach in a bottle

Here’s a counterintuitive take: summer fragrances should be released in August to help ease you into fall and give you something to hang on to during the cold, coming months.

Whether by design or not, Caudalie’s summery Soleil des Vignes ($46 CAN) eau fraîche just launched in Canada, And while I’m wearing it now because it smells like monoï oil, I will be gripping it with ice-cold hands throughout the winter. It is pure and potent summer-in-a-bottle and I’ll need that more in January than I do now.

Monoï oil is tiare flowers (aka Tahitian gardenias, see photo below) steeped in coconut oil to create a singular, complex, vanilla-ish floral, coconut scent. And while that sounds like a lot, it’s actually ethereal, sunlit and very beachy, but in a glamorous, non-Hawaiian Tropic way. (In France, monoï is available in every pharmacy, like it was toothpaste for heaven’s sake. Lucky French.) Caudalie’s homage to monoï is spiked with bitter orange and mandarin, transforming it into an energizing but still beach-evoking eau fraîche.

There’s also a Soleil des Vignes bath gel, which I am not even cracking open now, but saving for my February box, because I am forward-thinking and I know how much I’ll need it then.

Monoï oil from Tahiti via France. (See the now-darkened gardenia floating just above the label?)

A February Box is an assortment of summery gifts you collect now to give your future self when you will be at your lowest, olfactorily and psychologically speaking.

This is not to be confused with the November box, which is stuffed with cozy treats, because in November you’ll need things that aid in creating your winter nest.)

And yes, I make it through the endless Canadian winter with a variety of targeted boxes. Sue me.

Return to Me, Vanishing Lip-Line: A Quick, Two-Product Fix

The Quickest of quick fixes is lip balm and a bit of pencil.

My lip-line vanished. What was once a crisp line, poetically called “the vermillion border”, is now blurry and threatening to disappear altogether. Mother Nature pulled a fast one and I am exasperated and ragey (futile I know). She’s already taken the colour from my hair, brows, eyes and cheeks so I permanently appear cadaverous and like a third-generation photocopy of my former self.

I do miss having a visibly defined mouth, even now while stuck at home. (You never know when you might catch your reflection in the tea kettle.) Sure, full-on red lipstick solves the problem, but most days I don’t want to haul out the whole makeup kit.

Retracing the still-faint lip line with a pinky-nude (or nudy-pink) pencil and then applying lip balm on top is the quickest of quick fixes and the effect is subtle, but sharpens everything. Because there is nothing funnier than when a man says “I like how you look with no makeup.”

(Products)

Lip pencils, from top: Charlotte Tilbury Lip Cheat in Pillow Talk ($27 CAN.) The ultimate YLBB (your lips but better) colour. It also comes in two darker shades: Pillow Talk Medium and Pillow Talk Intense so everyone can play. 19/99 Beauty Precision Colour Pencil in Neutra ($26 CAN). This new Canadian beauty line is spare and fantastic. More on them really soon. And finally, a quality drugstore find: NYX Extreme Colour Lip Liner in Bedrose ($10 CAN), the perfect almost-plum pink.

Balm: Burts Bees Moisturizing Lip Balm in Pomegranate ($6 CAN). It’s barely red, but just red enough and is a necessity in each pocket and beside each chair in the house. (And in each purse. Remember purses?)

Dangerous Beauty: Vichy Liftactiv Specialist Peptide-C Ampoules

The French do not care about your convenience. They are not here to make your life easier. They are here to make it better. (See also: French wine, food, literature and art.)

For example, they really have a thing for glass packaging. Eau de Bouche Botot, a French, impossibly fancy, clove-flavoured, taste-bud searing mouthwash comes in glass bottles and years ago, Phyto haircare’s shampoo and conditioners came in glass bottles as well. So you’d be handling freaking glass in the shower with soapy hands, praying that you wouldn’t let go. (Phyto eventually switched to plastic bottles, but there is no gambling with your life with a plastic bottle. Very dull.)

Equally intimidating are the glass ampoules of serums, vitamins and mysterious herbal remedies found at French pharmacies. Because ampoules contain no air, their valuable contents are protected against uv, heat and oxidation. They are hermetically sealed until you snap them open.

Ampoules are a perfect vehicle for Vichy Liftactiv Specialist Peptide-C. Vitamin C is a powerful skin brightener, but it’s also notoriously unstable. Exposure to air makes it lose its potency, so cracking open a fresh dose every day means you are getting it at its peak. Add peptides that stimulate collagen synthesis to minimize the look of wrinkles and some hyaluronic acid to increase your skin’s moisture levels (hey, winter is coming, like it or not) and these ampoules are the perfect nourishing hit your skin wants.

Vichy Liftactiv Specialist Peptide-C ampoules, which come ten to a box, are also alcohol, preservative and fragrance free, each one containing a double-dose that stays fresh for 48 hours after opening. Use one ampoule morning and night on one day or on two consecutive days. 

Ampoules, although they may look unnerving, are actually easy to open. Place your fingers on either side of the white stripe at the base of the top, wrap some paper towel around the top and snap it off at the white line. Vichy’s even come with a small plastic cap to pop on top and protect it from spillage until you use it up. Because in addition to being both skincare- and beauty-ritual obsessed, French women do not like to waste money.

You Always Remember Your First Chanel

Photo: Janine Falcon

This ancient, scratched-up Chanel No 5 spray wasn’t always mine. It belonged to a girl I never met, who roomed with my best friend at college in New England in a typical, off-campus student house with mismatched furniture and an emptyish fridge. The house was owned by Kevin, a towering, affable guy who managed the town’s coat hanger factory, which is psychically as far away as you can get from the most expensive college in the US.

One time I was visiting and nosing around in the bathroom for toothpaste, I saw something that seemed completely out of place. Trying to sound casual, I said to Kevin “there’s Chanel No 5 in the medicine cabinet.”

“Oh. That must have been Charlotte’s,” he said. “She moved out. You can have it.”

Who leaves Chanel behind? My best guess is someone who already has a lot of Chanel or unfettered access to more Chanel. This was unfathomable to 20-year-old, poor student me. This abandoned bottle was almost half full and I wouldn’t have been any more surprised to find a Fabergé egg or a diamond bracelet.

I shouldn’t have been. The girls who attended this college were very fancy, but hid it under baggy sweaters and thrifted jeans. My friend explained that back home they had “long driveways” which was her oblique way of saying that their (rich) families lived in enormous houses, set so far back from the road that they weren’t visible to passersby.

I took the bottle, obviously. It was impossible to pretend I didn’t want it. Thirty-five years later I have a lot of perfume (none of it nicked from other people’s bathrooms, by the way.) And even though it’s always been rather banged up, I continued to buy refills for Charlotte’s bottle. The fact that this style and size is still available speaks volumes about the endurance of Chanel.

It now lives on my dresser, beside an even older No 5 bottle that belonged to my mother. It’s not called hoarding when it’s Chanel, right?