To state the obvious, it’s not fun when something stands between you and the thing you love. There are star-crossed lovers, etc, but I think it might even be worse when the frustration of wanting what you can’t have comes from an executive decision your body makes. There’s no tyrannical parent to blame, only, in my case, supremely oily eyelids separating me from that which I want most: Fun eyeshadow.
I know it sounds trivial, but my search for an eyeshadow primer that works is epic — to paraphrase Veronica Mars it spans years and cities. My eyelids eat eyeshadow like it’s candy. I put some on in the morning for a tiny dose of serotonin, and by 11 a.m. the shadow accumulates in my eyelid crease. By 3 p.m., it’s gone without a trace.
I’ve spent the last 10 years cycling through all the eyeshadow primers that the drugstore, Sephora, Ulta, and Nordstrom have to offer, each one making politician-sized promises that my eyeshadow would look just as good when I take it off as when I put it on. I don’t want to be dramatic, but they were all a bunch of liars.
Shop now: $8; amazon.com
That is, of course, until I met C’est Moi’s Visionary Gentle Non-Toxic Makeup Crayon, the only thing to actually make my shadow last through the day. I’ve been a fan of the Environmental Working Group-vetted brand since trying its easy-to-use, affordable mineral sunscreen, so I took a risk and ordered six of the $8 pencils, sight unseen.
I’m a sucker for bold, ‘60s-style eye makeup, and the colors deliver — but so far, the standout has been Dove, a blank slate of white that I’ve used as an eyeshadow primer every day since receiving it (the runner-ups are Sky, a periwinkle that’s the color of happiness, and Petal, a pastel pink). It goes on smoothly and accepts whatever shadow I layer on top, and then keeps it there all day long.
Given that I’ve spent more time and money on this than I’ll ever admit, when I realized I found a winner I did some deep analysis on why it works. From what I gather — and here, please imagine your best David Attenborough voice — some of the eye crayon’s pigment first slightly collects in my eyelid crease, like a sacrifice to appease the beast. Sated, a solid layer of color remains on my lids until I take it off.
The dream! The marketing words, actually ringing true! Next thing I know, I’m going to stumble on a mascara that actually does multiply lashes by 600 percent, and a magic lamp right next to it.