Review: Nvey Eco's Erase corrective makeup

Lest you think me nothing but scathing, spilling vitriol here, there, and everywhere given I've yet to be positively glowing, verily, I plead in my defence, non-performing products really puts the fire in my belly.

Nothing displeases, irritates, nay, infuriates me more than shoddy products and brands getting off scotch-free, whether they're the 'big daddy' companies that have the mega $'s for double-paged spreads, or the nobody, small brands that you, foolishly, decide to buy in to. Why? Because it's niche. Because it's rated (who are are these people exactly?). Because you want to be different. And because you want to make a bloody statement. But, alas, it happens you're wrong. The truth is, as with the old GMO vs. organic potato test, natural/organic ain't always best. Nope, no taste difference, but you know, yes in your deepest depths, that one is safer, doing hearty goodness to the body-cum-temple.

In fact, however demoralising, natural/organic cosmetics can be so bad. So very, very bad, as we natural beauty flies know. Conversely, there are winners but they're pricey, limited and requires a day's trek across town to your nearest counter unlike your local Boots that's a stone's throw away (though you secretly like this). So for those not quite minted, budgeting everything from Tom's toothpaste to the daily Imedeen (Whoa! Pricey much?), what are the options in between?

I lament, not much, and I scoff, a wasteland of mistakes to be had.

Making beauty mistakes seems to be a women's rite (nothing wrong there, what's more joyful than woman-to-woman confessions over a frothy latte or a cheeky cocktail?), but golly, it's no thrilling day at the summer sales on a budget.

So this brings me on to the object of my downright objection: Nvey Eco's Erase concealer. A blatant rip-off of Benefit's Boing corrector, I should have stuck to my guns and 'gone chemical'. Maybe if I was on LSD (Never, I promise, Mum!), I wouldn't have noticed?

Nay, I ought to have done battle with my ethics brandishing the loofah because I'd have been better off using off-white shoe polish under my panda eyes. Simply enough for one to lose will, this has tested my organic strength. There's nothing to Nvey here. Nought to see here, move on people, move on.

So what's my problem?

Okay, I concede, 'tis a nice, decent chunky thing, oh-so-pretty in the pan, say the size of a tot's palm, something to whip out the Primark leatherette bag on the tube to check for spinach between the gnashers. But you'll be even more dazzled by its 'erase' effect (read: greasy) under those already unforgiving fluoro lights.

And yeah, I do hear you, there must be some redeeming features for 15 wholesome UK pounds, right?

Nope, except for the Australian certified-organic ingredients. Skimming your eye over the lengthy ingredients list, (it's all Greek to me! Actually it's Latin) it appears impressive but it's no more advanced than other offerings on the natural market that's simply powder and a few emollients chucked in, despite its boastful claims of antioxidants. I see not.

And most importantly, the finish? Glossy thanks to the organic oils of safflower, jojoba, and beeswax, etc. Think poor Judy (no, not that daytime Judy Finnigan, but she of the duo Punch 'n' Judy) slapping on the Tippex as a concealer. It's beyond me how this won a 2008 Natural Beauty Award...? Scratches head.

They say: "ECO Erase ensures an even and soothing coverage" for all manner of blemishes. Well, soothing though it may be (lavender, goldenseal, marjoram, and more), 'even coverage' is something to be desired. Solified hard in the pan, as hard as cement, gentle finger-patting becomes harsh dragging, and using a brush is impossible I tell you. The finish is glassy opaque. So wrong.

Now it may be I opted for the wrong colour, you soothe, but as a pretty fair laydee (or according to my darling sister, "pasty as shortcrust") and with only 2 universal colour choices on offer, I don't think Neutral (lightest) was much of a gamble on my part. There's Medium though, for all other womenkind.

I have no beef with Nvey Eco in general, for they're only bravely trying to put their breezy aussie stamp on the organic map, but for concealer, stick with trusty names I say, that have a long-standing reputation. Gratis Dr Hauschka's Concealer, I won't be dipping my toe bravely in new waters any time soon. Now that is a serious winner for £15, not perfect but does the trick nicely for now, and with a decent finish, i.e. human-like. Nvey Eco's Erase is nothing but a magnet for passers bys' weird looks. Avoid.

For you brazen daredevils despite my honest critique, I've even froogled it for you, and the best price is at www.greenglamour.co.uk for £13.70. But, pray, don't make my mistake without testing the shade instore. Tsk tsk, and not on the back of your hand either ladies!

Others rave about the foundation, but I guestimate they're partly sold on the Bobbi Brown-esque packaging that oozes glamour and sophistication. And if it's anything like the mediocrity that's Erase, no thanks, not for me!

NewsBite: Liz Earle set to launch a perfume

Glorious news for natural beauties!

Cue drumroll please....Liz Earle is launching her first perfume!

I believe (read: pray) it's based on the heavenly Instant Boost Skin Tonic, of which I must be her most vociferous fan after the great lady herself naturally. It'll be my first natural perfume, so I anticipate great, great things from Botanical Essence, Eau de Parfum, No.1.

Does this also mean there's No.2, No.3 in the making? How promising! And, I bet your last summer seedling there'll be a QVC fray come October time, and hopefully it'll be on Introductory Price (thank you, QVC!), a mere prediction of course.

You can sign up for an email update for its October launch at http://uk.lizearle.com/index_2.php?userpage=fragrance_comingsoon&S=2a4718504a70a033d489f

Happy, smelly days!

Review: Elizabeth Arden's 8-Hour Skin Protectant Cream

Foul, horrific, a filthy product. It's nothing but grim lube in a designer tube. For a wholesome £20 too. I persevered, really, I did. But like a frustrating wart, it had to go. And so it went straight on Ebay - it was that or landfill....

I urge you, join me free-thinkers, shove in-place your earplugs, manumit your psyche from the babble and spells weaved by those in sales paid a tidy sum, from up-there in promotions to down-there in retail. If skin-unkindly petrolatum (56.8%, cosmeticsdatabase.com) is truly your heart's all-consuming desire, then alas, my power to soothe your dry spots with all manner of skin-loving natural balms and emollients is impotent. Thus, you shall have synthetic oil, but at the very least, I beseech, get it in a non-designer tin for 99p. It's called Vaseline, and you could have 20 of these. Neat huh, how fabulous! Vaseline now even comes in Rose, by far a headier synthetic aroma than that of Skin Protectant's.

How can one conjure its unpleasantness without feeling the need to hurl? Don't expect the sensory experience like the one to be had at a hedonistic Banyan Tree escape, it's closer to your council's central waste dump. To be specific, on first use as you await something verging on pleasant, after all, "It's designer, honey!", you'd be wrong. Like fears with uncontrollable chemical-engineering, it emits an explosion of golden gunk that's sickly pungent with a honey-like consistency (but without honey's ambrosial profile). Thick, it melts upon skin's heat. And like the obese who can't move despite trying, it sits. But hey, that's the idea!

For me, it all began some moons ago. With parched lips and cuticles despite a decade's use of Vaseline, it finally clocked, something was amiss. Either my bodily makeup was freakishly a 'Type Arid', or my products were inefficient. So, at the end of my tether seeking an alternative, what else do you do but 'go high-end', like a dazzled immigrant seeking British skies with the foolish hope of salvation?

So having heard the ubiquitous marketing for this cult beauty staple on tap, I foolishly hopped and triple high-jumped onto the bandwagon. What a foul surprise! Sold as a 'Skin Protectant Cream', I figured it was an emollient-rich cream. Nope, there's no water in it. It's just a lubricant for 'cracked, dry, chapped areas', just as they say! So it's a balm. Yes, an '8-hour' balm. But it's a chemical balm (not to mention comedogenic) that sits happily on the skin, for eight, marathon hours that's dandy if one needs a long-wearing barrier from extreme weather. But for those who aren't frolicking on the Alps in all seasons, legging it from arctic bears daily, or even a pilot or Virgin hostess, it's simply not fit for humans.

Models, make-up artists, beauty editors (and I concede, a handful of poor misguided simpletons) rave and rave, and rave some more, about it, as a gloss for the eyes (oh how my eyes weep at the thought), the lips, and anywhere that requires lubrication. But note these vocal fellas are professionals who seek the 'gloss' look, or in the case of editors, need to pay the rent/mortgage. Humans don't need glossy skincare, what a thought! I say, dump it. They must, pitifully, be none the wiser.

But now now, surely Elizabeth Arden's 8-Hour Skin Protectant Cream be of some use? Okay, I admit, in defeat, 'tis ace for your tyres. Rusty door hinges. Waxing your wooden floors. Perhaps, even treating your Ikea garden furniture. Mechanics would find tons of usage for it!

On the design side, the Limited Edition range is kitsch 'n' cute, shame they can't sort out the formula. That would be like making a bakewell tart with no cherries, I guess, how sad.

But there's beautiful hope on the horizon. Namely, natural balms. I urge you to be open-minded. Try, be adventurous, seek them out, skin-loving plant oils that mimic the skin's own composition which nourish, moisturise, soften and, unlike an 8-hour trick, actually permeate the epidermis. Voila! Once applied, it disappears. Now that's a true balm. No magic needed.

I, converted, fatigued, am now truly balm-ed out - there's no hope left for me, I drown in a sea of tins, from Badger's Balms to Liz Earle's Superbalm. The best of the canvas bagful I use dependent on mood, is Balm Balm's Geranium Balm. Delightful, cheerfully cheap, and efficient. A close second would be Burt's Bees Beeswax (a bloody bargain for £1.95 at cheapsmells.com). And though I yearn fantastically to hand over ten round pounds for a measly 10-15ml balm (say Decleor's, Nude's, Dr Hauschka's, Origins' even) one can't but question the reasoning behind their pricing. Hence, no comment.

Lastly, for even thriftier, or merely creative home-maker types, cooking up your own balms (and products) is fantastically hearty for the soul. With plenty of recipes online, there's a great community for DIY beauty. I have yet to sample balm-making given the affordability of natural balms, but what could be neater than receiving a home-made balm? Note to self: must get to grips with beeswax.

Review: BareMineral's Kabuki brush

Now I'm no makeup brush connoisseur (more brush-envy addict), but I'm a dab hand in the kitchen, and the patissiere in me thinks this perfect for pastry. It seems plush, it seems lush, it seems skin-friendly but don't be blinkered by its shiny handle - it's a frightful hedgehog. Nothing like the softest, oh my, softer than a baby's bottom Bobbi Brown brushes that I've snapped up in recent years at duty free.

(Poor me only has a few staples, and Bobbi Brown asks a lot, a good limb and a leg in fact for a basic powder brush. My advice for Shu Uemura's, Nars', or By Terry's' brush-watchers: save, go against the beauty editor's screech of 'splurge!'. (No change there). Do as you do with the pension plan. With each monthly saving, think of the individual hairs collected. 'Tis a burst of joy one feels when it comes to entering your pin at the SpackeNK till. You've deserved it!)

Anyway, okay, I concede, it came in a kit (onilne from the US) with the heavenly BE Mineral Veil, a crazily good sheer, no-shimmer (and god forbid, glittery) finishing powder that's great for most skins (save the dry perhaps), but honestly, stuff your ears with cotton, Kabuki-seekers, block out the sales droning on QVC and co. because despite what they say, this ain't The Brush for it ladies. (Although sable and goat ought be perfect hair for buffing, is this a case of bad batch, bad goat?)

So, I'd been eyeing up this powder since that Alison on QVC spoketh, and commandeth. I'm no lightweight, but verily, she unveiled a truth, this powder redeems the nightmare that's the 'Buki.

Using it is like stumbling in the dark, like that bad, forgettable First Time. 'Tis enough for brush virgins to write them off altogether. But hold faith young ones. There is hope and help on the horizon, and often at the cheaper end of the market. Bourjois do neat brushes (I know, I'm shocked too) for less than a fiver (Superdrug), and are great starter brushes for the young 'un first dabbling in makeup, even the late-comer having her first foray in the world of brushdom. You wouldn't want your tweenie or teen looking like a clown now, would you? Nor your best friend using those awful good-for-nought sponge applicators that come with eyeshadows, etc. How mean.

But maybe I'm being a miser. With its compact head, it probably does buff well. But - I never reached that stage. There's only so much scratch-scratch buffing one can endure, unless you're being thrifty and plan to forgo the blush. The Kabuki is recommended for face and body, but save your face ladies, and use it on the decolletage. Or better, the soles of your feet designed to handle life's rough and smooth.

Generally sets are fantastic value, and oft introduces you to more delightful goodies within a range appropriating your loyalty forever. And the Kabuki, I have noticed, often comes in a set (BE are madly hot on sets, have you noticed?) And not to be sniffy since advice is always welcome and nice, but tutorials for an identikit generation? No thanks. I'll leave it. But I digress, and it's no wonder the Kabuki is a staple kit item given how frighteningly rough it is, they probably can't offload them quick enough - I can't even imagine the makeup professionals jumping on these even as freebies. Reminds me of their Flawless brush (and samey-samey Full Flawless), scratchy as hell. Shudders. Also, BE seriously have to control themselves, simply how many 'Radiance's' can they spin out next? I can't fathom the difference between Pure Radiance and Radiance (there's 10 plus, and counting....), All-Over Face-Colour and Warmth, and some more. Come again? Navigating the Narnia that is BE is more perplexing than reading the banking T&C's, you'd need to devote an entire Saturday. How dull. Makeup should be fun, not leave you flummoxed...

And thankfully, it came in a set otherwise I'd be quite peeved to have to shell out its RRP £24. (Thank god for Ebay addicts, otherwise it would join my pastry brushes). If you do decide to shell out good-earned money, it's available with discounts online (lookfantastic.com, feelunique.com, HQHair.com).

My penny: leave it. Actually, there's a fantastic synthetic-natural combo in the shape of Mac's, now infamous, 187 Duo Fibre brush (£29; small, £24.50, maccosmetics.co.uk), pricey but 'tis a goody. (There's now a BE version sold with the Radiance's, not on my wish list you can bet). The 187 looks a fright, but it's jolly good, whispers over and stipples powder dreamily on bare skin. (The dye doesn't wash well though, but then again, I am quite fastidious about brush cleaning.) Also, I've noticed crownbrush.co.uk do amazing value sets, not keen on their P&P charge though, nor 're-stocking fee', huh? I am eyeing up their badger sets, their tales always look mightily soft when I spot them in the wild....

Lastly, I'm nearly finished I promise, the critic in me can't resist mentioning one more booby in relation to Kabuki. Now if you were smart and bought a starter jar of whatever, usually 2g, you'll notice the head of the brush won't fit the pot. (Now don't shake the pot enthusiastically, girls, loose powder has a habit of exploding in your face like gunpowder.) So it follows it won't pick up much, so 'tis a no-no for starter pots. Even with full-sized pots, the process is annoyingly messy. I think they had a stint of temporary amnesia and forgot to consider the BE mantra of 'Dip and Tap' during the design stage because there's no handle as far as I can see. Duh! There's nothing to tap with, BE peeps. A mismatch much? So too, whoever deigned the sifter jars needs to steal Laura Mercier's, even Estee Lauder's prototype. Bad, bad, bad design.

The Kabuki: no value, no quality, no joy. Animal friendly?

"There are no ugly women, only lazy ones"

...erm, according to Helena Rubinstein, d.1965)

Quel dommage! How disillusioned was she? The most beautiful creatures merely have greater cares. You know, kids, seeing the world, pioneering research, helping the poor, climbing the Wall of China, making a difference, etc.

[Beauty-sick(ened) flies like me ought indulge in some laziness more often, that's the unpalatable Glorious Truth. Ho hum.]

The 'Me Me Me' section will provide the aim of this blog, but there's a little below to chew on given my (complex) motivations. I'm a newbie to blogging, but not blogs, so don't judge kind people...(!)

(I also to review on makeupalley.com under bellaspots. Great site for the independent reviewer but so, so many gems of voices are lost in the flurry of reviews.)

Despite my conflicted soul, I pursue the beauty myth with unrelenting vigour despite being wiser than all the nonsense I am fed. Beauty companies, advertisers, editors, surgeons, and purveyors of the beautiful lie that beauty is everything, benefit more than me or the body I inhabit, so why is it so hard to let go?

Like so many disappointed, annoyed, fatigued, antipathetic, but empowered consumers made poorer in heart, mind and pocket, I am committed to weeding out those seeds of emptiness (something must be missing, right?) that nourish this unnatural materialism for more and more products. Suffice to say, my beauty walk-in cabinet is in need of some purging.

However, a new-found organic agenda has fed an even greater obsession, one for knowledge. But even this set of ethics has done nought to streamline my bottles and jars, opened and sealed, nor purse.

The Harrods Beauty Sale oughtn't be the highlight of diary. Poop to misogynistic glossies, poop to beauty editors fawning to advertisers, poop to crummy brands, poop to beauty jargon nonsense that serve to confuse the user.

Why is she doing this then? Good bloody question.

Indeed, I ask myself the same, maybe one day I'll find enlightenment because it ain't found at the bottom of a jar of Creme de la Mer.

So, verily, it'll be a pleasurable slog to blog liberally about all the latest, hi-tech vs. natural, faddy, inefficient, traditional, cult and kitsch, high to low-end beauty products, and all that can't be categorised in-between.

Buzz.