One Giant Piece of Solid Jewelry
It's no surprise that Mom in Mascara is a big lover of jewelry. (And chocolate, and snuggles, and popcorn, and bad TV...)
I totally die for most shades of blue. Like, order-my-coffin-die.
But interior design is a newer affliction. Since I have a background in appreciating materials, texture and color, all of which are indispensable in the realms of both beauty and fine jewelry, looking at interiors makes me pay attention and be in the moment more than usual.
Which is why I fell in love with this fabulous coffee table at Trovare Home in Greenwich, CT. The piece is made entirely of lapis lazuli, which is a stone frequently used in jewelry (of course in much smaller bits). To see the scale of this giant gem was breathtaking. And I die for most shades of blue to begin with. Like, order-my-coffin-die.
Hi little love. Or, I should say, big love.
Get into my living room.
Xx,
Mom in Mascara
My skin was smoother than life in a week. So I went back for more. Which is why I look like a dartboard this week. Check with me in a few days.
Sometimes our vain or handsy self gets a grip on our heart. Greed is a nauseating and nasty (yet altogether naturally occasional) vice. But as a wise woman once said, “remember all those women on The Titanic who waved off the dessert cart.”
Jasmine Swann, a self-characterized "clean beauty junkie with a dirty past" has a special meaning of love too. Of course, hers isn't easy either.
Gifts are symbolic and it's in our human DNA to want to share with people we love. Psychologically speaking, gift giving is a deeply natural way of forming bonds.
Don nary a bracelet nor necklace... but enrobe your life in gemstones nonetheless (without the new-agey bull-crud).
Pretty girl gets a grown-up, natural bridal makeup transformation from Mom In Mascara.
beautyblender: I still really love you, but lowercase is soo goop circa 2008.
Forcing another person to do virtually anything is generally indicative of malice. Unless mom is forcing you to eat your veggies. (Also, an appearance by Brandi Glanville.)
The face cream was... well, really and truly, thickly, abundantly black. Strangely black. It was ambiguous in its inexplicably. It was wonderfully luxurious, and inexorably mysterious, but just too expensive for what you're really getting.