Dotty

A wry and often humorous look at one woman's struggle through life.

Browsing Posts tagged natural

First of all I should admit (since we are being open and honest here) that I am only writing this post to put off the EVIL moment when I have to ‘fess up to the state of my dressing table.

There, that feels a tiny bit better. I have typed the words dressing table. This is like receiving a children’s party invitation and entering it into the diary and feeling as though the job is done… then forgetting to RSVP, buy the card and the present, and having to wonder if you can get away with wrapping the last-minute present from the garage shop in newspaper as a semi-green, urban trendy statement. Don’t try it – I have, and it doesn’t work.

Now – that last bit was another procrastination! You know where this is going, don’t you? Yep – the search for SLS-free hair cleaning was not entirely successful.

It isn’t ALL doom and gloom – nasty chemical-free shampoos are out there – but they cost a fortune, and then they cost another fortune in p&p. Of course, you might be lucky and live or work somewhere near a shop which sells this kind of stuff. I do not. So – onto make-your-own. Eggs? Too expensive, and I’m afraid I can feel the cold slimy drippy rivulets working their way down my neck as I type. Bicarbonate of Soda? This is really wimpy of me – but it just seems too harsh and I can envisage flakes of half-scoured scalp floating around my head like an early snow flurry.

The final option seemed to be the Self-Cleaning Method. I love that phrase: of course, what it means is Do Bugger All – but they can’t call it that. I can! So, on Saturday night last I decided that I would give the DBA method a go. I even bought a baseball cap to wear for the grim first week ahead. Apparently something magical happens after the first week (or is the second?) and once flat fine straight hair becomes bouncy thick curly locks JUST like Nigella Lawson’s. Truly… I read it somewhere. Anyway, Sunday morning came, I had breakfast, went back upstairs, looked in the mirror and gave up.

Hair product aisle – please save my seat.

I’m not very good at this stuff. I’m 42 and still trying to get into the habit of cleanse/tone/moisturise once a day, never mind twice. In the past I have tried several methods to try and get the habit: the more usual one was to buy ever-more expensive products. Now poverty (and reality) has struck. I did try Tesco’s ‘bnatural’ range – and it is actually lovely, but then, having gone down the natural route, I became more obsessed with more natural. Having borrowed India Knight’s book ‘The Thrift Book’ (how thrifty is that?!), she recommends the oil cleansing method using a mixture of castor oil and olive oil (www.theoilcleansingmethod.com). I have ordered the castor oil online: Boots don’t stock it because, to much sniggering and giggling, it is no longer recommended for its ‘original’ purpose. India Knight’s book is, by the way, well worth buying and is a joy to read, as well as being full of very useful and do-able advice.
As for make-up – even more hopeless. I do try and make the effort: a light foundation if I can find it, blusher if I’ve managed to find the foundation, lipstick (I try and keep some lying around in the kitchen, car, handbag, coat pockets just to remind me I should be using it) and mascara a couple of times a year. I’m going to try and do mascara a bit more as it does make a big difference to my face. The other thing that I am never without is Elizabeth Arden’s 8 hour cream. Great for chapped lips (and ears in -24º Warsaw winters) but also as a lip gloss. The smell is divine and reminds me of trips to the cinema with girlfriends where we would pay the extortionate fee of £8 per seat and have a private room with our own screen and waitress service bringing jolly good G&Ts. I do find smells the most evocative of the senses. Perfume: Organza by Givenchy (although I’m fearing it may be nearing the end of its life) and Bulgari. I used to wear much heavier oriental scents, but whether it is the baby-factor or just growing up, they now sit on me like a rather daft over-trimmed hat.