Raw and honest, Rachel Wilkerson’s blog, The Life & Lessons of Rachel Wilkerson, is captivating and heartfelt. Covering the trials and tribulations of her personal life, her blog gives advice on everything from the serious (like moving house, which is so stressful) to the mundane (fun nail art!) and everything in between. We appreciate anyone that keeps it real the way she does, so we’re excited to have her as this week’s guest blogger.
If there is a gene that makes someone love beauty products, I’m convinced it skips a generation. So many beauty junkies I know have mothers who could care less about lipstick or powder, but their grandmothers adore the stuff. That’s exactly the dynamic of my family. My mom is a tomboy and my grandma is totally glamorous, which means I relied on my grandma to teach me about makeup when I was growing up. Here are some of her best beauty lessons.
Stay out of the sun. My grandma has incredibly fair skin and white hair; she is the kind of person whose entire body and scalp turns lobster-red if she doesn’t wear a hat and sunscreen. While I have much darker skin thanks to being biracial, I follow her lead and wear sunscreen every day in the hopes that that my complexion will look as amazing as hers does when I’m 70.
Always wash your face before bed. My grandma doesn’t believe you should go to bed with a dirty face and I couldn’t agree more. No matter how many margaritas I’ve had, I always do the bare minimum and grab a makeup remover wipe and use it on my face. Even if I wake up with a hangover, at least I don’t have day-old raccoon eyes.
It’s OK to take a mild approach to skincare. My grandma’s regimen consists of tepid (not hot) water, cold cream, Dove soap, and Oil of Olay Lotion. I’ve never known her to exfoliate or use a mask or do much in the way of anti-aging. While I happen to choose Cetaphil over Dove, I’m a big fan of the rest of her routine, right down to the cold cream. Sometimes you have to be gentle with yourself.
“You don’t pluck your eyebrows. You pluck a chicken.” This is what my grandmother told me as she tweezed my eyebrows for the first time. I was unsatisfied by my bushy brows and went to her when my mom wasn’t around to ask if she’d do something about them. A former aesthetician, she was happy to help. (My mother, upon arriving home, was not thrilled that my grandma had done this without her permission.) She never explained why it was proper to say “tweeze” instead of “pluck,” but to this day, I’ve never made that mistake again.