Reluctant Summering
Coping mechanisms for cold weather people
I know I am in the minority when I say I don’t look forward to Summer weather - and look, I’m not totally immune to a cold shandy in a beer garden on a hot day, or the grass under my feet as I read a book in the garden. I even like barbecues! I am very fond of a slightly cremated burger on a small floury white bap with own brand ketchup - this is my summery Proust’s Madeleine and I look forward to eating my first of the season very much. But something about my genetics and temperament and physicality makes hot weather so uncomfortable and awkward: I honestly dread it.
So, for me at least, Summer is looming, lurking. It is an ominous presence, the big boulder rolling towards you in Tomb Raider. Whatever the hot weather equivalent to black storm clouds in the distance is, that’s happening now.
For one thing, life doesn’t stop in Summer. If you could just take the whole season off and lie about a pool eating caprese salads in a loose linen sack, I would be on board. Maybe when I am rich and retired! But until then, my job and my kids and my life continue just as they do the rest of the year: I am rushing around and doing housework and writing budgets in a hot office. My new sandals will hurt, my inner thighs will chafe. I will be a constant shade of muted puce, my makeup will sweat off so reliably as to be rendered pointless.
This year, the dread somehow feels more intense. Summer puts our appearance under a magnifying glass with its focus on grooming and bodies and being Summer ready. There has been a regression of sorts in the way we are expected to present as women. Yes, it’s do do with GLP1s (which actually I think are a game changing innovation and overall a Good Thing), but I think there’s something more broad happening, namely the near constant advertising for products that are all about this awful, relentless self optimisation. Vitamins to regulate your hormonal mood swings, supplements for hair, skin, nails, menopause. Not only should you be beautifulk but you should be cheerful doing it! Special subscriptions for hair loss and weight loss and youth loss. Instagram, inserting worries about my magnesium and iron levels directly into my frontal lobe. Mel B - Actual Scary Spice! - on a fucking open top double decker bus promoting collagen as if she’s just won the Grand Prix. If even Mel B is under the cosh, the Queen of Girl Power, what chance do any of us have?
I have made it my mission to prepare for the discomfort ahead, and the first change is attitudinal: to robustly reject this nonsense fantasy version of the Summer and how I should look hairless, perky, tanned and cheerful for it. There are only two things that interest me and they are COMFORT and JOY, and my only ‘Summer readiness’ (to borrow from the bumper book of manifestation bumpf) is to be open to receiving them. Oh, and buying a few bits, obvs - this is me talking after all. Below, my concerns.
The Pink face
My first big worry is facial redness. I know this shouldn’t be a big worry, like global warming or American supremacy or Class War, but sorry I AM CONCERNED. What I need is a redness corrector that is easy to apply, can also be my moisturiser and sunscreen (because after we reach a certain temperature you can forget layering products altogether) and that isn’t £40 a tube. Last year, I thought my prayers had been answered with Altruist’s anti redness facial sunscreen, but it didn’t work on me. It was far to yellow on my face, so although I wasn’t red, I was the colour of an uncooked corn fed chicken breast. It is rare for me to bin a product, but bin it I did.
I noticed that they’ve now brought out a ‘fair’ version of this, and took a weary punt at it - I’m so glad I did, it’s great! Cancels out the red gently, covers a bit and is the colour of my skin and not a faded pair of marigolds. I am grateful, and they are Altruists indeed!
I must also mention this beauty pie green colour corrector, which is very ‘That’s not a knife, this is a knife’ compared to the Altruist stuff. I mean, this would neutralise the redness on Dr Zoidberg. In tiny dabs with a fluffy brush, this has been amazing on my rosacea, and it’s a useful tacky texture that can hold on for dear life to a hot face.
By the way: did you know that you can now buy Beauty Pie stuff in Liberty at Member prices? I mean, gone are the days of the Beauty Pie Charlotte Tilbury lipstick dupes for £3.50, but there are still some excellent products and it’s nice not to have to sign up for Marica Kilgore’s strange membership scheme to buy them. Also, Beauty Pie is on Vinted, just saying.
