Beauty: Bader and Berenika
I’ve noticed that I can write something into approach before the thing I desire is mine. The way in is the quiet writing of a loud text about the things that are meant to come to you. This writing, you can have immediately. But let me start from the beginning. From the beginning, from the outside.
There will be a lot to empty first, before the total order of discourse settles into my cosmetics shrine. The still-just-young, ageing, full products I will give away to my dear girlfriends. They need to be opened now. I have enough good, open products in the cupboard, very good ones even, that I need to empty first. There is a lot of Aesop, because I used to work there as a sales assistant. Emptying Aesop is not easy; with almond-sized amounts, you can wash or anoint your face for months.
But. Starting tomorrow, Augustinus Bader will wash my face. He is standing in front of me in his packaging. He is inthere.
The face is the part of the body that can never quite be dressed. It is exposed to everything. I want to strengthen it with the help of Augustinus. At least until one can afford Margiela for the face and dares to wear those noble visors in civilian life.
I want to stand in my life with a face. My first Augustinus Bader Cleansing Gel is now meant to remind me of this. It smells of nothing except perhaps a little ointment, and I interpret this as a sign of fidelity and a willingness to perform miracles without olfactory manipulation. Do not misunderstand me, I love products that bind me to them through their scent. Saint Augustine leaves no traces. Augustinus comes without much foam. I call this serene modest(y).
Until I have emptied the rest of my serums and moisturisers, my face is protected by Dermalogica BioLumin-C Heat Aging Protector SPF 50. This cream gives me an insane complexion, and instantly. Once, in my twenties, a neighbour gave me Chanel’s Illuminating Cream because it was too much for her. I still remember carrying the jar back to my shared flat in both hands, like an altar boy. That cream had a similarly instant effect, but I can’t and don’t want to go without SPF anymore. I will report back on how long Dermalogica BioLumin-C and I went out together this spring-summer, until we were empty together. My activity outside the house is light to moderate these days. I am writing this blog now, after all.
Back then, I dropped the Chanel Illuminating Cream while the jar was still half full. It was unbelievably stupid — and sad.
As for toner, I will repurchase the Aesop Parsley Seed Anti-Oxidant Toner, still under its olfactory spell. I have been using this toner ever since I worked at Aesop. It contains no alcohol and is my antioxidant. This position in my life simply belongs to it. I love it. We know each other so well. And it never tires of setting my face for the day.
So much for the Holy Trinity of my countenance, SS 2026:
Augustinus Bader Cleansing Gel
Aesop Parsley Seed Anti-Oxidant Toner
a cream I still have and need to finish
Dermalogica BioLumin-C Heat Aging Protector SPF 50
Whenever I type SPF in Word, it briefly turns it into SPA and I have to correct it… because Word is, of course, right!
Furthermore, I am sitting in a Parisian Capturism Café, wrestling with the purchase of a Berenika Czarnota sweater, yep, KREUZBERG RED, which I have wanted for a long, long, long time. It was never in stock, and I was on the Waiting List for years. A few times I was too late; now I have the command-economy sweater in my own shopping cart. For 18 hours already, even.
No fate is protecting me from pushing my one true digital shopping cart toward checkout. And yet I only dare to cross the PayPal threshold half-blind, clicking my way through the shame. So much money for a knitted sweater. But it will accompany me through all the cold spells of this world!
So, one more look on Insta to see whether it really is what I want, what I need, yes…it is…I am still completely into it. Move money from my savings space into my account, buy it. Thank you for your purchase! Nie ma za co, Berenika. And she sends me a confirmation email. Though, like me, she probably went to First Communion. And was only confirmed afterwards. That’s how it is in Poland.
I wonder what her First Communion dress looked like? I liked mine; it had linen in it and was from Weingarten in Germany. There were bright days and dark days. I am excited about the sweater. And happy. And I already know what I will wear it over, and how! To our eternity — we can go anywhere together, Kreuzberg RED! And it is even more insane that we are meeting in Paris.
So soon I will often be walking around Paris in the Berenika Czarnota Kreuzberg Red sweater, right into early summer, when the evenings are still cold. I will say “Berenika Czarnota” without an accent when they ask me, “Wow — where is that from?” Berenika’s sweater will come from Poland; it was knitted by Polish women’s hands. Of course, part of the reason I am buying it is that it could have been my grandmother, if she were still here.