Showing posts with label Debbie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Debbie. Show all posts

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Lip Gloss Review {Guest Post}


I have a confession to make: I like my lips. I know, that’s SO not what our society tells us is something a girl can say. (What? You like something about yourself? Quick, look at these celebrities and mythical airbrushed models who have/do/wear it waaaay better than you!). But it’s true. I like them. They’re full, bowed-shaped and fit my face well.  It’s not like I sit and stare at them in the mirror but I’ve never had anything to complain about. And neither has my husband – youknowwhatI’msayin’? Wink wink, nudge, nudge.

Was that as awkward for you to read as it was for me to write? Good.

For as long as I could read the flavor of my Bonne Bell, I have tried to find new ways to subtly accentuate my smackers. I even went through a teenaged phase when I walked around with slightly puckered lips to make them seem even fuller. Then one day someone asked me why I was making a platypus face and the puckering stopped soon thereafter. So to avoid being mistaken for an amphibious mammal again, I have stuck to lip gloss to show off those suckers. I own so many tubes of the shiny stuff that my husband has resigned most of his side of the bathroom drawers to my collection. That’s why I love him.

I was really excited to get a chance to check out a couple of glosses that I haven’t tried before. Secret Agent Beauty and Make Up For Ever were nice enough to pass a couple along. Here’s how they stacked up.



Secret Lip Affair in Foreign-Intelligence Flirt: Awesome gloss, ridiculous name. From the sound of Foreign-Intelligence Flirt (which does not need a hyphen, by the way, so that intelligence part may be pushing it a little) I expected a super bright shade normally only reserved for Bond girls. The real color is a shimmery soft pink that is subtle enough to be an everyday shade (laser bra optional). On top of the versatile hue, FIF is also billed as a lip treatment and plumper, and while I don’t think it reached my platypus levels, my lips definitely felt softer and tingly.  Minus the oxymoronic name, this is a definite win.

Aqua Rouge #8: review here

Make Up For Ever AquaRouge in Light Rosewood: I figured the best place to try out the long-lasting claims of this one was the one place where no gloss can or should stand a chance: the gym. Now, I’m sure you go to the gym in perky little sweat- (glisten-) wicking outfits but I, on the other hand, tend to slink in, two whining kids in tow, wearing my husband’s old lacrosse shorts and a t-shirt with a marvel comic character on it that I have made socially acceptable by turning inside out. So yes. Wearing a very noticeable shade of lip color with this ensemble did look utterly ridiculous. Think Drew Barrymore from the flashback prom scene in Never Been Kissed. Minus the taffeta.

By the end of an intense workout, complete with pitying smiles from the other gym goers, the finishing gloss was history but the stain was still pretty well in tact. It even weathered a few kisses on my baby’s chubby little cheeks and a smash against the head of a sweaty three year-old without coming off. The shade was probably a little too dark for my taste, but then again, so is everything when it’s paired with an Incredible Hulk shirt. A definite win.

Needless to say, these two will be gaining some coveted space in my gloss drawer. At times, they may even make the purse list – normally reserved for high-performing, battle-tested products. So even if you already have a few glosses that you love, it wouldn’t hurt to give these ones a try. After all, lip gloss is like a Kardashian’s dress – there’s never quite enough


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thank you Debbie for another hilariously awesome review. these gems just brighten up my blog and keep me laughing for days. if you would like to read more of her genius, click here.

xo,
kristie

Monday, August 6, 2012

Un Style {Guest Post by Debbie}


Fashion has been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe because I have been writing for this blog, maybe because lately it seems the number of items that I want (need? NEED.) is highly out of proportion with my fiscal consciousness (J. Crew’s latest collection anyone?). 

But more than just the consumer side of fashion, I’ve been thinking about style in general; specifically, the ebb and flow of my own. There have been times (mainly in my early 20’s) when I felt like I was pretty cutting edge - daring and unapologetic in my appearance, transforming myself with a combination of identities – rocker glam, feminine frills, preppy princess. And other times of my life when my wardrobe mainly consisted of the same t-shirt in five different colors. We’ve all been through this. I think. I hope. (Everyone except Kristie. Seriously. Girlfriend looks glam in leggings and an oversize sweatshirt. I’d want to hate her if I didn’t love her so much).

Okay, so maybe I’m only speaking for myself, but there have definitely been times when I’ve been more survivin’ than stylin’. 

Case in point: I had always promised myself that after I had kids I would not turn into a mom. Obviously, I was a mom, but I mean a mom mom, like that of momjeans notoriety. I would be a mama, she of hot origins.  Obviously this promise was made long ago when my stomach muscles still touched and my thighs did not. 

After my first child was born I felt like I made good on this promise. I may not have had a chance to brush my teeth before 3 pm but you better believe I had my 4-inch wedges on.  

Fashion before hygiene, people. 

So imagine my horror (HORROR!) when I found myself, post baby #2, walking around the grocery store in a zombie daze, nylon sweat pants on, hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail, rocking a baby bjorn in front, spit up stains in back and pushing my two year-old around in a giant cart/car monstrosity with a squeaky wheel which provided a backbeat to his toddler screams of “I want a cookie! I –WANT-A-COOKIE!!” 

Guess what the store was out of that day? Dignity. 

My point here, other than offering that lovely mental picture, is this: there are definitely times in our lives when we will feel like our fabulous-ness has turned into fail-bulous. And that’s okay. Because it’s not forever. 

Whether it’s a new baby, sickness, hard time, or just being plain tired, we’ve all been there and we will continue to go back. But sweatpants will not stay on forever. Eventually, you will wash your hair. Someday soon, you may even put something on with actual buttons. And then there will even be times when you pull out the completely impractical stilettos, vamp it up with the green shadow and cat eye, rock the neon pink stripped nails and know that you are working it

Nowadays, my wedges still make a fairly regular appearance, but definitely not as often as my plain silver flip-flops. And the next time I find myself in the store with those nylon pants and screaming kid, I’ll just hold my pony-tailed head up high and own it. Because I know that tomorrow I will break out the coral skinny jeans and liquid eyeliner. 

But tomorrow is a long way away and right now, these sweatpants fit just right. 

-Debbie

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Calgon Take Me Away Body Sprays {Review}


Debbie is back with another review. Trust me, it is a worthwhile read. She's hilarious.

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It’s that time. Time to discuss bodily scents. Really, have you smelled yourself? Go ahead. No one’s looking. 

Smell that? Nothing. That’s right. Nothing. That little perfume you lightly spritzed this morning barely registers on the “memorable” scale. It’s so benign no one will ever be able to follow your scent should you get lost on the way to the bathroom. What you need is an in your face, unmistakable, who-set-off-the-flower-bomb-in-here kind of smell. For safety’s sake. 

Enter Calgon.

You may remember Calgon from their well-known “Take me away!” ad campaign from the 70’s and 80’s (cue zoom in on overly dramatic mom with overly fluffy hair).  Or, like me, you may not.  I didn’t hit the age of bodily scent accountability until the mid-90’s and by then it was all about BBW (Bath & Body Works for those without a significant memory involving Lip Smackers and butterfly hairclips). 

Recently revived and repackaged, the Calgon brand is now popping up on shelves across the country, which made me curious to see what the fuss (used to be) about.  

Calgon was nice enough to send two sprays, Turquoise Sea and Berry Ravishing, for review. And review I shall. 

My definite favorite of the two, Turquoise Sea, has musky undertones with a subtle vanilla chaser that was pleasant without being overwhelming. It doesn’t last too long, but I would definitely wear it for a quick pick me up when I haven’t showered in three days am feeling a little piqued.  

As for Berry Ravishing - here are my thoughts: berries cannibalized each other and then threw up. 

But that’s just my opinion.  And you are entitled to your own…just over there. Waaaay over there…Nope. Farther…I can still smell you. 

I tasted the Berry Revishing (I say that with a sneer that’s not readily evident via blog) for hours. Not just smelled it. Tasted it. In my food, in my water, on my baby’s skin (although, when combined with the baby/spit up scent, it smelled surprisingly better). 

Here’s the kicker – I never actually sprayed it! Those intensely lingering fumes were from merely touching the bottle! I’m pretty sure its original use was as a biological warfare agent. If not, the military should certainly look into harnessing its power in the fight against terror. What terrorist could successfully perpetrate mass violence while overpowered by the lethal smell of berry vomit? World = safer. 

So whether you’re looking for a sweet smelling, short-lasting spray or a quick fix for military overspending – Calgon’s got some winners. Take me away, indeed. 

thank you Debbie for such a great review. your point of view is priceless.

xo,
kristie

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Victoria's Secret Beach Sexy {Review}



I have a lot to thank my parents for. A happy childhood. Love and affirmation. A pantry stocked with cereal at all times. But there is one thing my parents have given me that I have had a hard time feeling grateful for: my heritage. 

I don't mean to imply we have some seedy family history. I mean my physical heritage - my skin. My Swedish, English, German skin. The whitest of the white people. My mom used to call it "porcelain." But let's be honest. 

I'm see through. 

I'm okay with this, though. I wasn't always, but any attempt at remedying this glaring situation typically went like this: overly ambitious laying out coupled with temporary amnesia regarding what a massive amount of sun does to fair skin, followed by an unholy amount of aloe and ending in my impersonation of the Kool Aid man. After a few times of this I finally decided the sun and I weren't friends. I embraced my whiteness. It just wasn't worth the burns, the future wrinkles, sun damage and, you know, cancer

If I have any desire to change my translucent ways then I am only left with one option: faux glow. Unfortunately, my previous spray tan efforts merely left me looking like Kool Aid Man's cousin, Orange Crush. I'm pretty sure I have an extra enzyme in my skin that reacts with cosmetics to produce an unnatural tangerine effect (see: my 10th grade foundation debacle). 

So when Kristie asked me to review Victoria's Secret Beach Sexy Tinted Self-tan Body Spray, I was a little hesitant. Would I be willing to walk around looking like a melting creamsicle, a poor/sane man’s version of the "tan mom" all in the name of helping Blushing Basics readers avoid my tragic mistakes? 

Yes. Yes I would. 

Fortunately for me, this wasn't the case. A few quick sprays, a couple hours and my pasty skin transformed to a soft bronze. The color blends well, leaving surprisingly few streaks (which is an amazing feat considering the level of flexibility I attained while trying to reach all parts of my back) and stays fairly intact even after a couple showers. Color me impressed. 

It did leave me (and my bathroom floor – spray this stuff outside for goodness sake!) a tad on the orange side but, again, I think that’s because my skin rebels voraciously against pigment of any sort. It has a nice citrus-y scent reminiscent of Clinique Happy, which brings me back to me college days (Why hello 2003! How are you and your pre-children abs?) as well as a slight shimmer like that of the Cullen clan in daylight. You know, if they spray tanned (which, in the name of fitting in, they really should have). 

Quick warning for my transparent twinsies - this ain’t for fresh-faced newbies. Oh no. This is serious stuff. One good spray and you don’t just have a little sun-kissed glow. You’ve been glow-gunned. If you were hoping to slowly work your way up to some color, then this isn’t for you. But if you want the “why yes, I did just change ethnicities, nbd” look right now, then go for it. 

I don’t think it will rival Kristie’s beloved St. Tropez (hold for angels singing) but at $12, Beach Sexy is a definitely a good buy for a quick fix. 

As for me, I think I’ll stick to my natural glow. Or glare, I suppose. I hear see through is making a comeback.  

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thank you Debbie! i am so glad that Debbie is contributing to the blog because 1. she is hysterical and 2. she's a bestie. win-win. if you like her writing style then definitely check out this review here of Aveeno Positively Ageless moisturizer.

xo
kristie

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Confessions of a Former Pancake Face

this post comes from Debbie a.k.a. KlassyGal, a former pancake face and professional dancer. she's witty, funny, and eloquent. check out her blog if you'd like to view some Debbie musings... thanks Deb!

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I guess you can say I’ve always had a thing for makeup. Or with makeup. A thing for/with makeup. I didn’t say it was a good thing.
First, some background. I grew up with four older brothers and was the ultimate tomboy (one of my favorite past times was going around punching my older brothers’ friends in the stomach). I could throw a football, play goalie in street hockey games and beat any boy at a string-spit challenge - the one where you see how far your spit can dangle before you slurp it back up. (Why yes, I did find myself a man. Why do you ask?).
So you can tell I didn’t exactly grow up on the pulsing edge of femininity and there weren’t a lot of outlets for me to learn about that stuff either. I was at a bit of a loss once I started to notice that my friends were wearing make up and talking about hair and clothes. Where would I learn this stuff? What would I do? Was I destined to be the weird girl who punched boys in the stomachs when I was 16? Maybe, but I’d like to at least look good while doing it.
For help, I decided to turn to the girliest thing in my life for inspiration. I may have been a dirty-faced, stringy-haired tomboy, but I was also a ballerina.
I’ll pause a second for you to breathe in the irony.
I loved dancing more than anything. I probably spent more time at my studio than I did at home. Since I was too embarrassed to ask my mom for help, I decided to stick to what I already knew about being a girl - make up. And what I knew about make up, I had learned from dance - stage make up.
If you have ever been in dance, theater, or a Rocky Horror Picture Show, you know that stage make up is the least flattering of all looks. It’s not just make-up, it’s make-up-a new-face-on-top-of-your-old-one. But this is what I knew, so I went with it. So starting in my teen years and going on through my 20’s I never felt put together unless I had at least 3 pounds of make up on. I actually got pretty good at it to the point where you wouldn’t even be able to tell I was wearing quite that much - it’s all in the blending. Yet there were still times that even I felt that if I hit my head ever so slightly against something my face would go POOF!
Careful, careful...don't turn too quickly now...
By the time I was graduated from college and married, my make up routine had ballooned into a 45 to hour long affair and I had to wake up extra early every day just to get to ready in time for work. I began to loathe make up. I hated putting it on every morning and I resented it. I found it boring and tedious. But I couldn’t stop, even though my husband told me over and over how much better he liked me without so much make up. I always assumed that if a little looked good, then more must look even better and I must look better (enter therapist here).

My Inspiration
But something happened that would forever change the way I view myself, my time and the importance of under eye concealer: I had a baby. Suddenly, my killer make up routine wasn’t logical, efficient or important. Suddenly, I didn’t care if I looked like I was going to prom every single day. Suddenly I was enjoying being able to get ready in 10 minutes or less with a swipe of mascara and touch of blush. Suddenly I was walking through the grocery store feeling like I was lookin’ good if my shirt had no spit up stains and I had remembered to brush my teeth that day. There’s me, strutting around in my sweat pants and t-shirt giving other shoppers the wink and the gun, saying “how you doin?” as we pick out tomatoes.
Here’s the kicker: no one noticed! At least no one said anything (nor would anyone who enjoyed full use of their faculties). My husband kept telling me how much better I looked and, as it pains me to say, he was right. And now, since I have taken the work out of make up I realize that I actually enjoy doing it! Part of the reason why I love this blog is because Kristie shows how make up can be creative, fun and empowering. The beauty industry’s slogan should not be “Make up - You, only much better looking”, it should be “You, having fun”. On the days that I do decide to do my make up (in 15 minutes or less) I love playing with different colors and techniques and see what kind of effect I can create - just for fun, just for an outlet, just for me.

So that’s the advice from a tomboy turned pancake face girl turned normal (hopefully) girl. Try new looks, new colors, new styles but try them for fun. Experiment with trends, don’t be afraid of trying something different and follow your mood. Lazy? Just lip balm. Bored? Pink eyeshadow. Adventurous? Lady Gaga (please send me pictures for my enjoyment). Going to husband’s 10 year high school reunion and meeting his ex-girlfriends? Fake eyelashes, spanx and gel bra inserts. It doesn’t matter what it is as long as you had fun putting it together and you still feel like you.

Go ahead and scroll through Kristie’s latest videos and tips to learn how to create the looks that are right for you. But leave the heavy stuff for dancers, broadway actors and Adam Lambert.
It’s not for you. Trust me.


Me & My Little Life Changer



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