Thematically speaking, I’m not really too wrapped up in accumulating anything that’s necessarily loyal to one aesthetic vision or "branding" as it were. Nothing I own is entirely similar, but in an effort to minimize and purge, I’ve been taking inventory of my belongings and figuring out what makes the cut.
Amongst my vast assortment of beauty things, it’s become apparent that if something is vaguely futuristic, sleek and celestial, I’m all over it like stuff on stuff.
Precious and delicate things are all well and good, but if I had it my way, my hypothetical The Coveteur spread would look something like a very chic alien came to earth with nothing and made do with a few otherworldly objects that could very well just be ornamental, but aren’t. For some reason, when I was a kid and it seemed like there were many "kooky women from space" comedies around, makeup compacts were the weapon of choice in terms of camouflaging one’s purpose. It’s 2015—where’s my makeup compact/intergalactic cell phone, hmm? Where’s my hologram-projecting cube? (Apple, I’m looking at you…)
A quick vanity survey shows me a handful of spacey beauty objects that I will share with you, in assumption that you, too, wish to make your home a palace of the future, or just like looking at other people’s stuff (personally, I love looking at other people’s stuff).
Recently, I stumbled on a Spanish beauty company, Oliver & CO Perfumes, that make gorgeous candles and fragrances. For one, their packaging is designed with space in mind; specifically, the angular and dynamic lines of spaceships. I find them to be very pleasingly minimal and symmetrical representations of some sort of Rorschach test.
Other than looks, this Tuberosen candle smells of heavenly white florals in an underlying nest of vanilla. It’s like I went to some fancy home décor shop in space and all I got was this really nice candle. When it burns down, I’m pretty stoked for the forthcoming prospect of having a new jar in which to put stuff. I love jars.
One of the most exciting space-relevant things from Oliver & CO Perfumes is their Nebula Series: two fragrances, Nebula 1 and Nebula 2 naturally. Both are brewed to represent what fantastical unknown planets would smell like.
They’re... interesting. I tend to go for musky, warm, smoky and earthy notes. These Nebula are similar but with unique differences. Nebula 1 smells a bit like an effervescent wet forest. Initially, you’re like "Whoa, calm down." It’s heady but not heavy—warm and citrusy with a sharp bitterness that makes an unexpected exit. I think of it almost like a sharp crystal: looks rich and inviting but feels cold to the touch.
Nebula 2 is a bit sweeter and more floral, but I wouldn’t call it a floral. It’s more fresh and light—think of the smell of fresh cut grass on a foreign planet. It’s a strange garden of fuzzy vetiver, clary sage and cardamom, paired with a kind of berry dessert-like sillage.
Neither scents read to me as particularly masculine or feminine—perhaps they're for a planet that doesn’t assign scent to gender?
On the appliance side, I’ve had this Conture device for a while now. It came to me at a Luminess beauty event a while ago, and I've used it a few times, but probably not consistently enough to notice a difference.
See, the way it works is that by creating a suction and release (which feels kind of like having a one-suction-cup octopus tentacle petting your face) it triggers a trauma response from your body, which sends signals to repair and produce collagen like crazy to that area, with the effect of lifting things that have fallen, so to speak. I’m pretty fascinated by bodily responses because, let’s face it, the human body is a wacky machine.
I’m not really at an age where lifting is a legit concern of mine, so for the few suck-and-blow sessions I’ve done, I mostly just feel like I’ve been pinched by a hundred aunties on my cheeks. It does, however, give a nice face massage when paired with a face serum/oil to allow it glide on your skin.
My toothbrush is actually one of my favorite "beauty appliances." After not having a single cavity my entire life up until some new-fangled fancy dentist told me I have "the beginnings" of three cavities, whatever that means (probably an excuse to bill me more for drilling them), this summer, I decided to revamp my already pretty clutch dental hygiene routine with a fancy electric toothbrush.
The Foreo Issa toothbrush gets a lot of lip service for its unique all-silicone form. The silicone bristles are way gentle on the gums (good for folks like me who brush the shit out of their teeth) and harbor a lot less bacteria. Its vibrating feature has segmented times where it’ll pulse when it wants you to clean another quadrant of your teeth (of which there are five, apparently) and then shuts off automatically when you’ve gone to town on all five quadrants. It’s as "set it and forget it" as you can get. And it charges via USB, so there isn’t a clunky dock I have to house in my already crowded medicine cabinet. Plus the heads last a year—not a bad investment.
I find it soothing and yet somehow commanding considering two minutes feels like a long time when you’re just brushing your teeth. But it means I get it done in the proper amount of time, rather than the probable 45 seconds I was giving my teeth before with a regular toothbrush. I actually got a second opinion from a different dentist a few weeks afterwards and he was like, "Nah, your teeth are cool—I don’t see any cavities worth fussing over."
- I’m pretty much in a beginner’s phase as far as my intergalactic beauty game goes. Do you guys use beauty appliances? Are they even called "appliances," or is that too utilitarian?
- What would space smell like, though? I’m legitimately curious.
- If anyone knows anything resembling a makeup compact that has a hidden function, please tell me because I will buy it immediately.