Glow by Lady E

Right after writing about my inexpensive KKV makeup brushes, I saw these. KKV Mini Cake Powder Puffs. They’re cute. They’re cheap. They’re ₱99 for a box. I can’t remember if there are 4 or 6 or 8 in one box. I just know there’s a lot because I already  own another version of them in purple. Unfortunately, I don’t particularly like them. Which feels like an appropriate continuation of my argument that the price of a beauty tool doesn’t necessarily tell me whether I’m going to like using it. My inexpensive KKV brushes? Some of them are genuinely good. I reach for them despite owning much more expensive brushes because they simply work with my hand. The powder puffs I bought? Not so much. There wasn’t anything particularly impressive about the way they performed, and I found myself reaching for other puffs instead. They were too dense and not very flexible. And they sucked up foundation a lot! The cute but awkward shapes also didn't help.  Expensive doesn’t automatica...

I own a lot of expensive makeup brushes. And after years of doing my own makeup, other people’s and developing my skills, I’ve realized something: I don’t really care how much a makeup brush costs anymore. I don’t even care that much about the brand. Sometimes, yes, it’s the tool. But most of the time? It’s the artist’s hand. Of course, there are limits. If a terrible brush keeps fighting me every time I try to use it, I’m not going to spend my morning negotiating with it. 😆 But inexpensive doesn’t automatically mean terrible. These KKV brushes are a perfect example. They’re very affordable, with most of the brushes in this particular line priced at around ₱89 to ₱159, and they work. That’s it. They do what I need them to do. And once you’ve developed enough technique, I think that becomes far more important than having an impressive name stamped on the handle. I actually own several KKV brushes already, and I’ve mentioned some of them here over the past few months. KKV ...

  This is my travel bottle. I keep the full-size bottles at home I recently discovered another reason to keep this little bottle around. I already like Bioten Micellar Water because it removes my makeup without making my skin complain. With my sensitivities, that alone is enough to make a product worth keeping. But apparently, it has another talent. It cleans my cloud and marshmallow puffs too. ☁️ Foundation stains tend to cling to them, and because they’re soft and fluffy, I don’t like being too aggressive when I wash them. One day, I decided to try my Bioten Micellar Water on the stained areas first. And the foundation came off. Excuse me? A makeup remover that my skin likes and that helps get foundation out of my favorite puffs? That changes things. Now I can use a little micellar water on the stubborn spots before washing the puffs as usual, instead of rubbing and rubbing at the fabric. Simple. Effective. No unnecessary fuss. And considering how often I use those puffs, anythi...

  I used to choose things because they’re pretty or affordable, but I end up hurt.  Like two brands of slippers that shall not be named.  Now I choose things that are kind to my body. Soft, supportive, gentle.  Especially after my foot ached for better.  I think I’m learning to apply that standard to more things. Pretty is lovely. Fun is lovely. And I will probably always be drawn to something that sparkles. But I don’t think beauty should require me to tolerate discomfort just to keep it around. That applies to something as small as a pair of slippers. Or a hairbrush. This new brush is still glittery. Still pretty. Still something that makes me smile when I see it sitting with my things. But it also feels good. The bristles glide through my hair without scratching my scalp or catching strands between broken tips. It does what a hairbrush is supposed to do without asking me to endure something first. And maybe that’s one of the quieter forms of self-respect. Not...

  I kept it because it was pretty.  Even when it started to hurt.  Even if it was already looking nasty.  No matter how hard I tried to clean it, some of the dirt just wouldn’t budge anymore.,  And the bristles.  A lot of them have lost their bristle tips.  And it hurt when I brushed.  And the empty tips were also pulling my hair.  But still, I kept it. Because it was pretty. Because it was glittery. Because technically, it still worked. And maybe because throwing something away when it can still be used has always felt a little wasteful to me. So I kept brushing my hair with it. And kept getting annoyed when it pulled. Kept wincing when one of those exposed bristles scratched my scalp. Until one day I thought: Why am I doing this? It’s a hairbrush. It’s supposed to make something as ordinary as brushing my hair feel good. And this one didn’t anymore. That thought felt strangely bigger than the brush in my hand. Because how many things do we ...