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.