Happy Valentine's Day! Happy Friday! And Happy Long Weekend!
So much to celebrate today. Love, Fridays, weekends... three of my favorite things. And my favorite things make me pretty darn happy, so I am in good spirits.
But let's be honest: this time of year blows the big one. It's freezing outside, the heater's blazing inside, and our skin and emotional well-being suffer. Valentine's Day carries with this this massive burden of expectation -- will I have a Valentine? Won't I? If I have one, will he/she actually do something for me? Will he/she do enough? What should I do for him/her? What if I don't do enough? It's all just too much.
And to top it off, my skin is so dry I can think of nothing else! I'm serious. Skin. On the mind. All the time. And not in a sexy way.
I have naturally dry skin, and in the winter, it is uncomfortably so. By this time every year, all I can think about is simultaneously lying on a warm, sunny Caribbean beach and bathing in a deep vat of heavy moisturizer (that's disgusting, I know, but I'm serious, my skin is that unhappy, and I haven't truly seen the sun since, like, September, so this really is my fantasy right now). My skin is dry, itchy, flakey, whiter-than-a-ghost... It's just all around unpleasantness for everyone involved. It's a vicious cycle. My skin bothers me. I complain incessantly to Matt. Matt's skin bothers him. He complains incessantly to me. And so on. It's a fun, sexy time for us here in the Kelly household:
So given all of that, why am I so happy on this glorious Valentine's Day that is also a Friday that is also the Friday before a long weekend? Because soon -- not now, but in, like, the next 3-5 business days depending on weather patterns -- my over-parched skin is going to get hydrated in disgustingly luxurious style, and I just can't contain my excitement. Matt and I are not doing Valentine's Day gifts for each other this year, but he ordered this Jo Malone's Lime Basil & Mandarin Body Crème, $75, from Nordstrom.com yesterday as a sign of love and affection. I got stressed, because I have not ordered him a gift, and this crème certainly seems like a gift, so the balance of love and power is all off suddenly, but he claims it is not a gift because I would have ordered it for myself anyway (true), so really it's a wash. I also think he ordered it so he could secretly use it on his own lizard-y skin (much like I enjoy buying things for him that really I want for myself). This non-gift is due to arrive early next week, and I am very much looking forward to ripping open the box and luxuriating in the heavenliness that is this body crème. My skin desperately needs a little lovin'.
Which brings me to this: Love is a many-splendored thing, and it's important to say "I love you" daily to others and to ourselves -- and that means our skin. And often, we forget to do just that.
As you may have guessed by now, nothing says "I love you" quite like this Jo Malone moisturizer (many might argue with me that there are other ways to say it, but I stand by my word). I have tried many a moisturizer in my life, and none has ever actually uttered or compelled my skin to utter the words "I love you," but Jo Malone has come close. Actually, I take that back. Jo Malone has.
Allow me to explain: You twist off the cap of this large glass tub and are immediately hit with the most heavenly scent ever. Music starts to play, slowly and quietly at first, and you're confused because you certainly did not turn on any music and it was definitely not Frankie Valli and the 4 Seasons. "You're just too good to be true..." you hear. You shake your head, but decide to move on. You dip your finger in the pot of heaven -- careful not to take too much, because that sh*t ain't cheap and you want that pot of gold to last for as long as humanly possible. "You'd be like heaven to touch..." the music continues. You shake your head again. This music is weird, but it's true, this luxurious crème actually feels like heaven. You slather it on your dry, thirsty skin, and suddenly the song fast forwards two minutes and fireworks are going off around you and your skin is shouting "I LOVE YOU, BABY...!" from the rooftops as you pat yourself on the back for being such a great inhabitant of your previously love-starved body. You're still a little confused about how a body crème managed to serenade your skin (or did your skin serenade it? it's all very unclear), but you're thrilled because you feel human again and suddenly the fact that it's February and you haven't experienced climate-produced heat or daylight in half a year doesn't seem to matter quite so much.
You've said "I love you" to your skin. And your skin has said "....ditto."
Before this year, I never would have spent $75 on body cream for myself, but my dear friend Emily (yes, the one who gave me that lovely candle I blogged about earlier this week) gave it to me last year along with the Jo Malone candle that I blogged about in December (she is a really good gift giver!), and I have since become addicted. Nothing else will do. I ran out of it a few weeks ago, and have been just distraught ever since. So distraught that even Matt has attempted to justify the crème's practicality. Why, it's so practical that I actually need it. And as he has generously pointed out, the last pot lasted for over a year, so really, on a per-use basis, it's not that expensive it all. Excellent point indeed, my husband. And so, when the box arrives next week, I shall say to him -- and to the crème -- "ditto."
You're worth the splurge. Go for it. Your skin will thank you. And your state of mind will improve drastically. Sometimes you can buy happiness. And love.
Happy Valentine's Day! Happy lovin'!
My dear friend Emily came over to visit the week after my surgery in December and gave me the loveliest holiday candle I've ever smelled. The scent is a seductive blend of pomegranate, mandarin orange, pine, cloves and cinnamon -- with just a hint of vanilla and amber (I truly despise vanilla-scented candles, and this one in no way smells like vanilla -- it just smells like wintery heaven). I loved the scent so much that in my Percocet-y state, I asked Emily to light the candle immediately so we could enjoy it as we ate the delicious dinner she had brought over and half-watched reruns of Dawson's Creek (noting just how absurd and implausible that affair between Pacey and the new teacher really was -- I mean, really!). The candle really added a warm, wintery spice to the ambiance, and since then I've burned it often to bring a little holiday cheer to the apartment (so often that, as I write this, it's burning down to the last bit of wick and wax and its 60-hour life is sadly coming to an end - though the glass can be repurposed for brushes and such on a vanity or pens on a desk!).
Obviously we are well past the December-themed holidays, but Valentine's Day and Presidents' Day are coming up (both holidays in my book), and it is still f*cking cold and snowy outside (excuse my French). And if we can't fight the freeze (or flee to the Caribbean), we might as well embrace it. This candle makes the weather tolerable and turns a dreary day into a warm, spicy burst of happiness.
Where to Buy
Nest Holiday Candle, $34 from Nordstrom.com (free shipping!)
I am an artist/designer and former financial professional with a background in comparative literature, business and design. I live in New York with my overworked lawyer husband and my two boys Michael and Theo and spend much of my free time dreaming about how to enhance the aesthetics of our little world. I am endlessly inspired and always in search of something new. This is a blog about my search, my inspiration and things I just really, really like or want.