March 2009 Archives

Everyone agrees, from dermatologists to the stars, to my long dead, but wrinkle free, paternal grandmother, that moisturizer is the shit. It doesn't have to be expensive- my grandmother used plain old Oil of Olay, as does one of my friends, who also has perfect skin.

Best used right after a wash or shower, moisturizer works, not by "being absorbed into the skin," as so many products claim, (because the very purpose of skin is NOT to absorb things,) but by creating a kind of barrier with water, that makes your outer layer of skin softer and more pliable. This is a good thing because not only does this barrier make you look nice, it maybe even diminishes the appearance of spots and wrinkles by plumping your face up, and if you use one with an SPF, it prevents sun damage.

Ok, enough with the science lesson. Recently I ran out of both my moisturizers at the same time. I was using Karin Herzog at night, and Eminence Stone Crop during the day. The Karin Herzog was starting to annoy me- it has hydrogen peroxide in it, which makes your skin glow, but also bleaches your eyebrows after a while. No, it was time to move on.

I started at the drugstore. Now, here is my problem. When did "moisturizer" stop being "moisturizer" and become... what were they calling it....? Oh, yes, at the drugstore we had  "Normaderm Anti-aging Hydrating Care". (That's from Vichy, a lovely inexpensive French company.) I was also confronted with "Olay Definity Intense Hydrating Cream" and  "Ageless Restoritives Energy Reneweal Day Lotion SPF 15." It is me, or are these things downright congressional? Like, what does "Definity" even mean?

The expensive lines are worse. These were my favorites (just the names- I didn't try any of em): "Primordiale Skin Recharge Cream", "Hydra Feel Unctuous Creme", "Dior Capture Totale Haute Nutrition Creme" and  "Skin Cavier Luxe Creme." And honestly, I for one, would never want to put something called "Guerlain Orchidee Imperiale Fluid" on my face! It just sounds dirrrty. Or "La Prairie Cellular Cream Platinum Rare". Which is fine, because it's 1000$! It's like they just took fancy words and put them together. It's rare! It's platinum! It's cream! All for a bit of mineral oil.

In the end, I settled on some REN Hydra-Calm Global Day Cream, because it was all natural and it smelled nice. But it's still just moisturizer.

To me, Salsa Verde sounds like a small island in the Mediterranean, with rocky lagoon beaches, turquoise water, big crumbling stucco houses perched on hillsides, ancient olive and orange trees swaying in the ocean breeze, and lovely quay side restaurants. The waiters have mustaches, and the rich smell of roasting garlic and tart fresh lemon wafts from the kitchen. You watch your dinner come off the boat. Like Tiffany's, nothing bad can happen to you on the island of Salsa Verde.

In reality, Salsa Verde is a sauce. There are two kinds: the Mexican kind, which is  yummy, but I will save for another time, and the Italian kind, which is what I am talking about today. Recipes vary- Mario Batali has egg and anchovy in his. Mine is the simplest of the simple, but very easy to mess with. I made a large batch last night, which we smothered on creamy halibut. It was a perfect contrast, and on a nasty March night, it tasted like spring. But you don't need fish- salsa verde goes on anything, from steamed green beans, to folded in with mashed potatoes, to steak. Trust me.

Salsa Verde

1 bunch Italian Parsley
1 handful cornichon pickles (about 8)
1 teaspoon capers
2-4 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar (the best you have)
1 small shallot (or a small piece of red onion)
1 lemon (optional- you can use with or substitute for the vinegar)

Clean and dry the parsley well. Seperate the leaves and thin stems from the thick ones. Chop roughly. One handful at a time, with a couple of the pickles, the shallot and capers, add the parsley to your food processor (I have one of those tiny mini choppers. A blender would work too.) Lubricate with oil. Keep adding all the ingredients, and chopping, until you have a thick, beautiful green paste. It should taste sharp and bright and also a little creamy, but not too vinegary.  If I have a problem getting it pasty, I keep adding oil.

Then- try not to eat by the spoonful.

So I learned something very interesting recently. And I am happy to share it with you. Are you ready? Because I know this small piece of information is going to change your life...

The people who work in the makeup department at Barney's work for the store, not the brands.

You're disappointed with me? That didn't just totally rock your world? Hmmm. Well then, let me go on. Perhaps you will find elucidation in the explanation.

I have not worn makeup of any sort during the day for many years now- probably since 2000. Recently, there was a large occasion when makeup was called for, (fine, my own wedding,) and so I set out with a valued friend, Katie, who is wise in such things, to obtain some. She directed me to Barney's, where she knew that there was an Armani counter.

I have had department store makeovers in the past, most recently at the Benefit counter at Bloomingdales in SoHo. I left looking like a drag queen version of Tovah Feldshuh, with an inch of foundation, too much mascara, heavy blush, and thick shiny eye makeup. I bought a bunch of stuff, spending a minor fortune, almost none of which I ever touched again. So I was not completely looking forward to the repeat experience. Katie took me strongly by the arm, and steered me to the Armani kiosk.

"She needs makeup. For her wedding. She never wears it, so it should be light, and she has a tendency to shine." Katie informed the man at the counter. I looked at Katie with my jaw on the floor- I never thought I had a tendency to shine before. The little counter man, who I could see was wearing some white eyeliner, appraised me with a cool eye, and nodded.

"I see what you mean," he told Katie. I was tempted to leave, but instead climbed up into the chair. There were mirrors everywhere, and I was forced to contemplate every tiny blemish and wayward hair on my skin, as the man set to work. Soon, I had three different kinds of foundation streaked over my face. The first Armani one was too heavy. The second was too powdery.

"Close you eyes, I have the perfect thing," He said. With a steady hand and fat brush, the man wiped something over my entire face. It felt wonderful-cool and creamy. I opened my eyes, and my blemishes, which had screamed and erupted under the other stuff, seemed to have completely smoothed out, as if by magic. My skin was as flawless as it is in my imagination.

"What is this?" Katie cried, grabbing the small glass jar of potion. "You're getting it. That's final." She fixed an arched eyebrow on me, but I didn't need convincing. It was Chantecaille Future Foundation, in case you are curious about the magic and all that.

I left the store that day with the foundation, a concealer, a powder, and a lipstick, none of which were by the same company, all of which I use all the time. Instead of having that feeling of getting ripped off that often accompanies a department store makeover, I felt like I might actually LIKE wearing makeup again. And I felt like I got to try everything. Take that, Bloomingdales. 

August 2nd, 2008. These three pairs of shoes mark the day I should have realized that the economy was in the crapper. Because all three pairs were on serious, serious, serious sale at Jeffrey. Trendoid patent leather stilettos with hot pink heels in the shape of flowers, these are not. No, these are three of the most basic, elegant pairs of shoes a girl can hope to find marked 70% off. 250$ is not a crazy amount to spend on boots. But 1100$ is. And that was the original price of those boots. As Fred, my guy at Jeffrey said that day "You'll never see these on sale again." And reader, maybe he's right. But not for the reasons he thought.

I left the store that day, feeling ebullient- like I had gotten away with something. I couldn't believe my luck- three pairs of simple black shoes, for the price of, well, one pair of Louboutins? But looking back, I wonder if I should have guessed something was up. Because, at most points between 2005-2007, those three, basic pairs of shoes would have been long gone by week four of the sale. Heck, they probably never would have gone on sale at all. The fact that there they were, lingering (in my mind, waiting for me,) was perhaps a notice that a seismic shift was underway.  

Now, seven months later, I don't regret anything, but times, they have, as they say, a-changed.  Now, the stock market has followed the shoes to deep discount territory. The only thing is, I don't know what a deal on the stock market looks like. If only I knew my stocks like I know my shoes. And, as I walk to the subway in my favorite black boots, their red soles scraping off with wear, I wonder if the days of 1100$ plain black boots, like million dollar studios, and citibank stock at 51.80, are over?