When my Grandma Alice died a few years ago, my mother called to let me know. It was expected. I had been able to be with her the day before and tell her I loved her. It was a bit of a relief because the last few months of her life were pretty difficult. So after the initial bout of grief at this phone call, a jolt of shame coursed through me and I tearfully exclaimed, “Now Grandma will know how bad I am about washing my face!” 

Grandma had gorgeous skin. She died at 91, but didn’t look a day over 70. She never went to bed with her makeup on, and whenever it would come up in conversation that I, in fact, always wore my makeup to bed, she would admonish me lovingly and I would promise to start doing better. I never would though. I’m lazy. I don’t know.

A couple months ago though, I got some eye patch thingies in a subscription box (BoxyCharm maybe? probably?) and tried them out. LOVE. What else might I love on my face? A quartz roller? YES. Retinol and peptide serums? GIVE THEM TO ME. Delicious moisturizers? OMG YES. Eye cream? I’m too young for that, right? Turns out NOPE. (I had a poster of Luke Perry on my sponge-painted bedroom wall. I am 100% old enough to need eye cream.) Aloe infused refreshing spray? SPRITZ ME. I’m here for all of it. I even got this cutie little floofy headband to wear while I do it so I don’t get my hair all wet. My skin has improved, but not perfect. We have four decades of neglect to make up for. 

So I was doing my routine tonight, and Grandma popped into my head. I initially thought, “Aww…Nana would be so proud of me for taking care of my skin!” And then I quickly thought, “No she wouldn’t. She would exasperatedly pronounce that it was ABOUT TIME and laugh at why it took me until I was 41 to listen to her.” And I laughed out loud. And as I walked to my bed I stopped by her old curio cabinet and pulled out her last bottle of Chanel No. 5 and gave it a good sniff and remembered her even more deeply.

This ones for you, Nana.