Review: Cleansing Cream by Dr Hauschka

Moving on, so we come onto the riddle that's the Cleansing Cream by Dr. Hauschka. What can I say? For beauties accustomed to soap, gels, wipes, cream, and the like, you know, the usual cleansing fare - and even for those adventurous beauty flies using the handheld Neutrogena Wave thingymagig - the CC is stranger than fiction, stranger than those football "off-side rules" (come again?).....

Maybe it's their bio-dynamic, rhythmic skincare philosophy, maybe it's their advised "roll and press" motion, or erm, maybe it's me and my monthly cycle? But as an AM to PM cleanser, it's a downright bother for non-mommies - it requires all your womanly gentleness, patience, attention, and then some more....

It's a fine thing my mini tube (15 ml, £2.98) came included in the Daily Face Care Kit (£14.98, for normal skin), otherwise I'd be weeping in my chai teacup stuck with an entire tube of this stuff (50ml, £13.98). (Despite this the kit is terribly cute and brilliant value in a shiny tin, including Cleansing Milk, Facial Toner, and Moisturizing, Quince, and Rose Day creams.)

Though it's weird, I'm in love with the idea of it....

What charming relatives call "my bloomers" (or reddened cheeks to you and me), they are nonetheless delighted with his luschious Rose Cream Light, so why does the CC leave me cold? How can you fault his dedicated botanical garden in some German wilderness harvesting the purest of ingredients? How can you not hum in agreement with the logic of his bio-rhythmic skincare in sync with Nature? How can you not be tickled by his little green apothecary filled with busy bees labouring to distill the mysterious properties of plants? So, like how I want to do that hot water 'n' lemon detox thing every morning (ho hum, it's not happening), I want to love his CC. But alas, I can't.

Playing around with cleansers has become my bete noire - eh, I wouldn't recommend it. Maybe I've too much lady leisure time, but I can't commit because, erm, I fancy them all. (Like being faced with a display of iced frou-frou cupcakes at the Hummingbird Bakery, what does one do in such dilemmas eh? Choose one? Hello? I want them all!) I've been on this Holy Grail mission for an organic cleanser since the nineties (Okay I've no bio-rhythms clearly, but for far too long...), and I've now compromised by picking 'n' mixing to my daily fancy (typically Liz Earle's or Spiezia's), but this has to be the queerest of the lot, like, totally enlightening (heh no, I didn't find the Dalai Lama in a tube!) Eh, not for me, maybe you'll strike gold...

If you've a secret history of Budweiser-sipping (hey one jests, I realise you're far too body-ethical for that with your bottled Fuji water), you'll adore its fermented smell - beery, yeasty, full of hops and character. (Undiluted, I nearly fainted. Think alcoholic's breath.) Beware, it's not likened to your pleasant stroll through the fresh bakery aisles at Wholefoods cupping the wholesome aroma of fresh bloomers, oh no, it more intoxicating than that. A concentrated formula, it does deserves thumbs up for economy.

At night, begin by mixing a small blob with a smattering of water, then "roll and press" the diluted paste into your skin. Roll, press, roll, press, roll, press, etc. Then, continue this rolling and pressing motion for another hour (Okay, 5 mins or so. Do some mental gymnastics or something to pass time....). Continue this for deep, deep cleansing. Finally, satisfied with your rolling and pressing finger-workout (give the poor baby a rest), remove with generous splashes of water and a cold muslin compress (bought separately, but any old muslin will suffice). Yes, at long last, you're done, hooray, believe it! (And - Gee, is that the rising sun? Where's the time gone? You wonder... )

Therein lies my niggle with this cleanser. Oh my, I don't have the motherly patience. Time is of essence, and I'm no longer a gap-year student with hungry eyes and undiscovered worlds at her flip flops. Otherwise, I'd invest. Leaving the skin wickedly soft and comfortable, its beery cheerfulness has stolen my affection.

Quality ingredients do maketh a cleanser, and this peanut-butter-looking formula doesn't disappoint. Filled with almond meal and peanut particles (suitable for nut-allergy sufferers, they say), they're quick to insist it's not an exfoliator. They speak the truth. Even my weekly cleaner (alright, in one's dreams) would struggle to polish my age-old Tweezermans shiny and new once again with this. With no dedicated exfoliator in the range - their philosophy and methodology are too skin-humane for that - the overriding premise is to preserve the skin's fragile acid-mantle (PH) with the skin-friendliest of nature's plants. With soothing herbal extracts (kidney vetch, calendula, chamomile, St. John's Wort), what eco-snob could complain? One of the two cleansers in the range, it suits all save the ultra-sensitive, in which case they urge you to seek the Cleansing Milk.

But raised with a careless hand (mine), I just can't feel the love enough to adopt such a genteel, time-luxurious daily routine, making CC and me no happy Mister and Mrs. If you like your cleansing mean and vigorous, the CC's not for you. Our affair may've been breathlessly brief (we lasted a jolly 10 days together), but I've learnt that some products shine, and some need a little tinkling with....

One desire, but one can't love them all.....

Review: Barefoot Botanicals' SOS Rescue Me Face & Body Cream

Whoosh!... there disappears my draft, thanks blogger.com - not. Boy, am I peeved.

Don't despair though, I know you're just desperate to read this review, so I'll simply have to trouble my busy self to rewrite it. Ho hum, you chaps are demanding..... I jest, it's no trouble, this botanical cream is happily worth a highbrow critique (well, I do try chaps), so merrily I'll comply.

You know how it is with free samples for some unfamiliar brand. You may try it (if you're a reasonably curious type), or you mayn't bother and dump it (if you're happy with your regime). So you give it fair trial, you know how it happens, the results are okayish - quite forgettable, nothing to scream about.

But should it happen the sample proves miraculous - abracadabra! - you'll no doubt make countless thanks to the Green gods, or if not so pious, spend the rest of the day touching your skin with a mouth fixed in the shape of a "wow".

The beauty of all this? You were never looking. Like those lightening-strikes love moments in the movies (oh what tosh), it just - happens. Cool, isn't it? Just when you thought life was unfair enough with that recent speeding ticket, fortune remembers your name. Anyway, at this point you'll probably grab the phone and tell all your girlfriends, or jump online and Google the entire range (if you're fanatical like me), or run out on an errand simply to tell the next poor bugger that crosses your path the great news. Because as it is with discoveries, the best are those that simply fall into your lap - ta da! - renewing your buried faith in small, independent brands that don't demand you compromise the workday lunch at Pret-a-Manger or savvy ISA account.

So, such was the case with me and Barefoot Botanicals' SOS Face & Body Cream. On one fine day in May popping into my local natural health shop for nothing in particular, this was the lush little find that was awaiting me (I'm sure it was in my horoscope....). Catching my eye with its wholesome look, Who's this? I thought. Expecting nothing, I was dead impressed with the tester, but just. What? I double-blinked, seeing the price (£9.74 for 50ml) But it's teeny-tiny, I wailed inside. Humphh, you could say this green meanie wasn't floored with the price, so I did what any smart beauty does - procured some samples (being super-sweet helps). After all would you impose strangers onto your beauty shelf without a formal introduction? How offensive! Well, that's how contained the dangerous buy-on-the-spot-impulse....so very close, I was on the edge momentarily.

Honestly, like I need another body cream, and like you need another? Still, I fought that battle at home having dried up of samples. A dilemma, it topped my agenda. But alas, despite my iron will, like a horse to water, my skin took to it. And whatever my skin loves, I follow suit. Wherever could it, and the sweet grass-roots brand have been lurking all this time? (Are my green-watching beady-eyes failing me?...). No importance, we've found each other now, I mollified. So, moving onto my second tube but bigger (100ml, £17.57), with repurchase the true test of a winner, what's the big deal, you wonder?

Well, it sounds boring. Unisex, it's designed for ultra, supra-sensitive skin and even eczema - sounds exciting, huh? Oh wait, but it is. You'd be right to expect some no-frills, unscented, acqueous cream-like formula in bland, white pharmaceutical packaging, but nope, it's too cool for that. Medium-rich (that's the shea, borage and evening primrose oils), it's sweetly herbal with soothing botanical extracts of mahonia, burdock, comfrey and chickweed. And wait, there's more. For aromatherapy buffs, it's all cooked up with lavender, neroli and chamomile. Oh Barefoot Botanicals, you're so clever! How can us 'nose-y' beauties ever find fault?

With such ingredients, it'll do nothing more than soften, moisturise, calm, and strengthen your skin, although there's no added sun protection factor. Neatly re-packaged, it's not particularly feminine like their pink Rosa Fina range (oh my, that deserves an entirely new post) so metropolitan big boys to hunter-gatherer types wouldn't complain. Indeed, the SOS range is most congenial for men.

The best bit? We croc-skinned beauties can benefit from its goodness. Flakiness be gone! It doesn't promise much more than that - but hey, that's grand! We hate empty promises, right? (How unethical, ick). So 'womanly' concerns of ageing, or sun protection is better sought elsewhere. This adores all with 'seriously parched' and 'shy' skins (as they so neatly put in), so sensuously soft, touchable skin is on offer, dare you seek it. Young 'n' old, men 'n' women, white 'n' black, paupers 'n' princesses, the green and not-so-green beauty, erm, you get the idea, can benefit.

Multi-purpose, what beauty doesn't desire to save space, time and money with all-in-one's though her bulging cabinet belies the truth? Even the multi-purposing beauty snob who, though she likes the idea of all-in-one's a la the Nars' Multiple, trendy jumpsuits, etc. but invariably owns the separates, oughtn't not find this too demeaning. (I sense your outrage, but hush, this need not divorce your fave face 'n' body separates. It's all about choice, right?)

Like all women who've made it their business to moisturise after washing (I know, chaps, it gets boring), we know how crucial it is to keep lethargy at bay by alternating products. Versatile, non-messy, non-laborious, non-synthetic, it fulfills a space in your daily routine if there's a vacancy. Like marriage that, ahem, needs excitement, this could give back the much-needed thrills to something stale. Uh huh, I agree you don't need an armoury of creams, lotions and gels, but that doesn't stop us needlessly wanting, does it? (One can pray, I guess...) Don't begrudge SOS Cream price-wise, it doesn't last an age (a la the usual sell), but it's quality ingredients you're paying for. (Unless you're particularly green-fingered and confident, a green beauty is better off honing her skills on basic recipes.) No glitzy packaging, no blurb, no marketing, no advertising. How rare is that? Topping that, see their no quibble month guarantee on all used products. That's enough for me! Their faith nourishes mine.

They also sell a Safety Gloves Barrier Hand Cream (£12.95), but I'd hazard this would do the job as nicely. A traveller's, globe-trippin' backpacker's, and seasonal skier's essential, this is a top mindful gift of care. My loyalty is hard won, and they've it in buckets right now.

Who knows what else will tickle me as much in the future, but 'tis sure exciting to find out when fortune decides to reknock.....

Review: Orange Flower Water by Neals Yard Remedies

Toners are my opium poppies, my secret passion. my am-to-pm nose-fix (oops, skin-fix). Like the holy Zam Zam water to the Muslim, the godly Ganges to the rural Indian, so the toner is to me a holy ritual. So many beauties dismiss them as fanciful extras (oh goodness, they're plenty economical), too many younger victims have been wronged by Clean and Clear and co. (oh but you're forgiven, poor darlings, hush, don't be bitter).

Like the smelliest fromage and wine, these staples of the bon viveur, a beautista (please, let's never see that appear in the OED any time soon) can't skimp 'n' save on quality ingredients either when - and there's no mystery here, right? - toners are essentially water with a few added extras. Humdrum, basic, a bit boring like daytime TV. So to you toner-skippers, like those dieters plumping for the Perrier and salade verde (with dressing on the side, natch) at Pizza Express, I do urge: be bold, be frivolous, be a gourmand and go for a Pizza Quattro Formaggi! Let's splash on something more exciting than Evian Mist, and something without alcohol denat: it's not a treat, it's a basic skin right. Hurrah! (Dare I reference L'Oreal and declare "You're worth it!"?) Ye of little faith, you too deserve such a ritual enjoyed for centuries by Arabian women and their rosewater.

And as for me: I do stand and testify, my name is Fly and I am an Eaudict to smelly waters in fancy bottles. How do I do it? Oh, quite easily, the stashing principle of no space is waste space rules, so nothing is off-limits - shoe boxes, airing cupboards, cookie jars, the car-boot, etc. Are there any telltale signs and symptoms? Indeed, common to us addicts is the identifying le smirk, a dead giveaway when confronted with a 'toner poser', e.g. supermarket toner. We're devious us lot, and it can go undetected for a lifetime. What could make tan Eaudict confront the problem, if it so happens, is the misfortune of having her luggage randomly checked at airport security, because by having her Smythson case thrown open for the world to see, she is forced to claim the dispensary that's become her life contained within - rows upon rows of bottled Eau cushioned within the odd piece of holiday clothing. Public confrontation like this usually does the trick because meeting with quizzical looks, bemusement, or worse (confiscation), the problem is dazzling clear, liberating and refreshing all at once. The prognosis? Nay, not good, even if she falls into debt, gets a pay-rise, etc. she'll find ways of replacing current discontinued faves, or better, 'DIY-it' and become an Eau maker. The condition tends to be chronic. How can I help? You can't, but sympathy and a kindly ear won't go unappreciated (and in my case, do gift me your kindness - my wishlist is available upon request...!)

So back to my fellow addicts, what's tickling my fancy so to justify the above confession? Oh, so many, too many. But my latest love affair is with Neal Yard Remedies' Orange Flower Water, a delightful beast of a product. An easy £8.60 for 100ml, it's a perfect size that won't risk boredom (200ml sizes or above aren't worth the investment unless it's Love) or debt. Good for 6 months, 97% organic, I shan't quibble on 3%, the few drops of bitter orange blossom oil, as you can imagine, bestow it the most delicate aroma that's 'softly sweet' (better words fail me.) Added aloe vera (just magical stuff) extract soothes and cools instantly, so no need to chill beforehand - so handy for us who actually need such space for, erm, chilling fresh odd bits of food. (Note there is a minuscule touch of alcohol, non-drying I promise!)

Magically simple, how does it compare to simply using plain distilled orange water from aromatherapy suppliers? Well, put it this way, a few drops of any essential oil to base water gives toner legs, a meaty core, real ommmphf, like fine fragrance. Natural beauty chums will identify how neroli (or bitter orange) is one of the most precious, and expensive, essential oils to produce and buy, like the saffron for the cook. So NYR's OFW is divine, all ready-made it's ideal for the neroli water-seeker who can't afford those skin therapeutic recipes calling for neroli, and neroli only.

Passing by NYR Covent Garden a few months ago (okay, I lie, it was the plan) I couldn't resist the OFW - my toning collection's parched of neroli, okay. With my "just looking" face in place, I thought I was unbreakable. But among those bottles of alchemy, the OFW beamed at me like moth to flame. So after much testing, sniffing, sampling and sniffing some more, that was it. Like the poor cow at farmer's market, I was stamped 'Sold'. There was no point fighting it despite going off to 'browse' (or an opportunity to flee its clutches), one whiff of neroli for citrusy-lovers is like crack cocaine, instantly bewitching.

But it's all worked out petty nice actually, skin aglow at the thought of such a pleasant discovery (or maybe its the detox tea?), I'm all self-congratulatory for exercising such wisdom and frugality when I've denied my collection of a pricey bottle of neroli essential oil (NYR, 2.5ml, £19.05). OFW satiates me amply - for now, anyway. So for thrifty beauties turning their noses up at this in regards price and quality - pray don't! - the price of neroli reflects quality so is deadly serious, and having snuffed enough bottles of 'neroli' essential oil by other aromatherapy lines, NYR's is 'up there', reaching senses so far up the nose that the others could only endeavour an awareness of. And to resplendently monied-beauties using Darphin, Sisley's Eau Florale mist and such (erm, me jealous?), who are sitting there pooh-pooing this smugly, well, I say, more to go around for us poor common flies!

Despite loving dry and sun-damaged skins, this is a suits-all product because neroli giveth glow to all skin types from pre-teens to grannies, something we ladies all seem to crave like that sneaky Marlboro Light (okay, let's gloss this) or a quickie Cadbury's chocolate break. And unless your skin is particularly sensitive, seek the rosa damescena essential oil in a toner, I'd say, or for oily skins, some witch hazel. Simply swipe and go, oh la la, easy as pie.

Who said beauty was fussy? They always drone. But, nay, do fuss about with toning, because it's rudely enjoyable. So revel in it, smell the bottle, swipe lovingly in long, light strokes (I like organic cotton), and find the heavens in a bottle. NYR sell compatible spritzer tops for those partial to them. Toners aren't miracles, they won't resolve but aid skin concerns, but the joy in toning is in memoriam of an exotic tradition with plentiful history à la Egyptian women, et al. Ditch the common alcohol and synthetic fragrance in generic toners, they hate your skin. Simple as that. You're better off using nothing for all they seek to do is mimic the real thing.

The verdict? Ravishing. Effective and economical. (Natural beauties rejoice!) Now, how many products perform on these two basic points? And a fantastic company, although some sales' assistants suffer from bouts of ignorance (so annoying) and indifference (so wrong), they oughtn't make it so easy (I'm meant to be homemaking, ugh). As for negatives with OFW, erm, I'm still thinking.....I'll get back to you on that one.