Totally addicted to... balm?

About 3 years ago, my lips started getting chapped quite often, especially in cold weather. This, I’m sure, is pretty common. My skin in general does seem to become irritated rather easily, but I took this as being expectedly in line with my personality. I now find myself in a pretty dark place, one dominated by dependence to one substance, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to wean myself off it. Maybe I need an intervention or something. As the song goes, ‘I know you can tell just by looking at my face, a word about my weakness, I’m totally addicted to...’ well, as it turns out, balm. And it’s getting serious.

I have theorised my problem, and am definitely in the used-products-so-much-you’ve-convinced-yourself-you’ll-die-if-there-isn’t-a-coat-of-balm-on-your-lips school of thought. And the symptoms are real. My lips have become so used to being smeared in something greasy that they get withdrawal symptoms after seconds of it wearing off. They rarely look that chapped, but they feel awful.

However, fashion magazines assure me this is normal, and that I should continue to invest in tubes of lippy goodness to ensure I never go without/insane. In every coat, bag, hoodie, and room, is evidence of my addiction. And I must say that for someone who takes ridiculously good care of their lips they’re not noticeably different to anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because the whole world’s hooked. Kinda like the X-factor of self-grooming.

I’ve had a few favourites in the past, but nothing really beats a good-old pot of Vaseline Lip Therapy. I have them in every variation: classic, aloe vera, rosy, cocoa butter, and both big and small sizes. I got particularly excited this Christmas when I spotted this super-sized tin with every variety inside (below). Unfortunately, my family refused to acknowledge this entry on my Christmas list in disgust that I could possibly need more Vaseline. Santa would never be so cruel.



The only thing I would complain about is having to dunk your finger into a pot of goo, especially when you’ve had it on your person all day (rule number one for budding balm addicts) and it has morphed into the consistency of warm wallpaper paste. Luckily I’m not too fussy, but I find myself constantly surrounded by people who are (notably my younger brother who, at the age of 21, still insists that I put it on for him). I often feel disappointed that Vaseline pots last so long too. I just can't supress the urge to buy new and exciting things!

The real beauty of the humble pot of Vas’ is its infinite possibilities. For instance when applying to my lips when I’ve got a cold, I habitually continue northwards, onto my upper lip and nostrils, with little regard for how shiny it makes my face. So for those of you that insist on blowing your nose with super-strong kitchen roll every 2 minutes (no judgement), Vaseline is the perfect antidote to your sore-skin woes.

The balm that first got me hooked was Benefit’s Dr. Feelgood (£21.50, benefitcosmetics.co.uk). When I first purchased it, it came as a duo pack along with a rather exciting lip exfoliating balm that you applied first to remove dead skin, and the wiped off. This was the reason I bought the product, but I didn’t really rate it and I’m pretty sure the full tube is hidden in my vast reserves of makeup that were surplus to demand (take note, trial and error is the only (expensive) way to find out what products work best for you). But the balm was a god send. And for six months it never left my side. I left my hoodie at work once and came close to tears when I realised I’d have to go an evening without it. I used Dr. Feelgood until it ran out and was so disgustingly tattered you could’ve confused the silver tube for a dead mackerel. And to my great despair, it doesn’t seem available in tube form now, only in a pot. So like Vaseline, if I wanna Feelgood (see what I did there?) I’m gonna have to get my hands dirty.

I’ve tried lots of other things over the years, and most have failed to impress. Too glossy and it's not simple enough to apply regularly, too sticky and it replaces a tight, dry sensation with an equally irritating one. And it needs to be discrete enough to sit nicely under lipstick, for which Vaseline is often too wet and shiny, but Dr. Feelgood does the trick with its relatively thick coverage and matte appearance.

I’m hoping that when the time comes that my bank balance doesn’t make me weep, I’ll be able to treat my lips to some seriously good stuff. Here’s just a few, both affordable and pricey, that I’ve heard really tick all the boxes.

Malin + Goetz Mojito, £10, spacenk.co.uk
Lanolips Lemonaid Lip Aid, £8.99 victoriahealth.com
Crème de la Mer The Lip Balm, £37, cremedelamer.co.uk

Burt’s Bees Honey Lip Balm, £3.69, burtsbees.co.uk
 Aromatherapy Associates Moisturising Lip Balm, £13.50, spacenk.co.uk
Clinique Superbalm, £10, clinique.co.uk
Another past-fave, from my days as an Avon rep (I don't judge snotty kitchen-roll blowers so don't you judge me), is Avon's On Everyone's Lips daily lip refiner. I can guarantee that my Gran has a cupboard full of the stuff, so I'll sleep easy at night now that they've discontinued it. As much as my Gran used to force it on me (perhaps we're seeing the cause of the problem: a simple bit of child abuse) I do remember it being a bit on the thin side, and not quite as silky and thick as I like 'em. And as my lips are perennially chapped, maybe it's for the best that this one has been resigned to the history books.

Perhaps I’m not sick after all. I’ll probably never know, because I sure as hell won’t be going clean any time soon. If anything I enjoy my obsession for lip balm as one of my many qualities, as I do my love of trash TV or similar addiction to washing my face. (There’s the perfect fodder for another article; my, my, the wisdom I could impart about facial cleansers.) In the hour it took me to write this article, I’d estimate that I’ve applied my Vaseline 4 times. That’s once every 15 minutes. It’s the first thing I do on a morning, and the last thing before I clamber into bed at night. Sometimes I even sleep with it under my pillow. I know I’m not the only one out there, and I can say that with some certainty having infected my boyfriend with the same addiction. He prefers the aloe vera Vaseline if you were wondering.

Nutter graduate jobhunters, the world's full of 'em


Three weeks ago I quit my job and moved back to London. This was a total no-brainer: stay in York, harbour an ever-growing hatred for my parents (the people that bought a house so small Middle Earth-roaming hobbits would spit on the doorstep before squating therein), work extremely hard at a horrible job in a horrible company for the pitiful wage the government thinks I deserve, OR move to the big city and give myself a chance of happiness.

Shocker isn't it?

So here I am, back in my home-away-from-home in the gorgeous Mile End. The only pickle, if ever there was one, was my thereafter lack of income. Despite the fact that I am lucky enough to be lodging with people who offer me an extremely reasonable rate of rent, as the old saying goes, money don't grow on trees.

Therefore unsurprisingly, I've spent the last few weeks frantically applying for jobs. And it hasn't been all too pleasant. There's nothing like rejection from positions you thought you were perfect for to make your life seem altogether crap. Regardless, I remained my picky self and avoided going for jobs unless I was sure I wanted them. Nobody wants to be stuck in a job they hate, and until I get really desperate neither do I.

Maybe another problem has been the dilemma of having too many interests. Either I'm really arrogant and think I love and know more about everything than everyone else, or I have a genuinely wide range of interests. I mean take this blog for instance, I was certain that I should follow my childhood dream of becoming a sports journalist, after all I do know a lot about most sports and it's a lifelong love of mine, so that's the line the blog took. But I soon realised that in doing that I was leaving behind so many other things I wanted to write about: fashion, music, books, everyday life. Is this where I've been going so wrong with jobhunting? Is my struggle to commit to one area or industry the reason nobody wants me? Is it the classic 'master of one' versus 'jack of all trades' scenario? The old sayings are coming thick and fast today. If only I'd thought about my degrees before I embarked on them, I might be qualified in something I actually want to do. Take note kids.

I was beginning to lose hope this weekend. It may have only been a few weeks since I quit my job, but I've been applying for better things since I finished my masters in September. That's 6 months of rejection.

But today, I got offered a job. And one I was sure I hadn't got. A really great part-time admin job that pays double what my last job did. And not only that, but I secured another two interviews at really interesting places: one an internship at an audio book publisher, and another an actual proper job in online marketing at a cosmetics company. (I'm thinking the latter would be a dream graduate job for me.)

So things are looking up. And the moral of the story is: don't give up. Not until you hit the depths of depression and are considered so mental that you're sectioned and homed in a clinic for no-hoper recession-plagued graduates that is. But I have evaded that fate, at least for the time being.

An Epiphany

I walked past Somerset House today, the penultimate day of A/W LFW.
I was on my way to Covent Garden for an interwiew, and breezed past a few fash pack kids in my just about interview-appropriate outfit. Thankfully I didn't feel too out of place, instead I felt something bordering on a sense of belonging.
I definitely haven't always considered myself well-dressed, but I've finally hit MY style on the head.
So here it is...

My tip for an interview (not that I'm claiming to be a pro!), is always look at least well-groomed, and at most marginally stylish. I'm often vaguely tempted by an outrageous get-up or two, and it simply isn't worth jeopardising your chances at a job. In this case I kept it smart and unfussy, with just a hint of style peeping through. My skirt was knee length, and paired with the buttoned-up shirt gave a nicely secretarial feel.

BOOSH. Rings - family jewels and charity shops.
Skirt - Zara. Shoes - Office. Socks - Topshop.
Belt - vintage.
Shirt - charity shop.

Mirror - is dirrrrty.


I was wearing a vintage leather jacket, but it's downstairs and I'm lazy, so? Yeah.

It's quite clear that I need a new camera. Actually, this bad boy ain't even mine.

Oh and just to spite all of those fashion blogs, packed to the bloody rafters with poser shots INSIDE the security check of Somerset House, here's one of my very own efforts. I happened to pick up a ticket for London Fashion Week(end - vom) in a Mayfair Hotel goodybag. Note that I tried considerably to step-up the fashion this time around!

Silk top - vintage Topshop Boutique. Kimono/cardigan - charity shop. Faux leather trousers - Topshop. Scarf - Topshop. Lipstick - "Ruthless" Topshop.