Kjaer Weis cream blush

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Kjaer Weis is an organic makeup brand designed by Danish makeup artist Kristen Kjaer Weis (pronounced Kē-yar Wīs). They are transparent about their ingredients and the products, made in Italy, are certified organic or natural according to Italian guidelines (not American guidelines, which leave much to be desired). The sleek packaging of this cream blush caught my eye on Garance’s site and my investigations were fruitful in that they also lead to the discovery of the highly promising retailer Eco Diva Beauty. If you want to spend a lot ($54) on a cream blush, this is the way to do it.

I picked up their bestseller, Desired Glow, a muted rosy peach.

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This is truly creamy in the buttery sense, with a texture not unlike a soft lip conditioner, think Dior Crème de Rose…or butter, actually it’s a lot like butter. I tend to prefer cream over powder blushes and have a few I like but this is quite distinct from my other favorites, the Tarte cheek stain (a firm gel) and the Chanel cream blush (a dense cream-to-powder formula). Reminds me of the NYX cream blushes in general texture but is slightly more responsive (softer. Higher glycerin content?), and is executed beautifully. [For $54, it really ought to be.] Excellent, uniform pigmentation, relatively sheer. Not opaque, but not so sheer as the Tarte or other cream-gel formulas. Effortless to blend with fingers or a stippling brush, provides an undetectable brightening of the complexion.

I mean genuinely effortless, too. Completely sloppy, slap-dash application beautifully rewarded. There are a lot of good formulas out there these days, and probably hundreds (and counting) of formulas that are good enough if you are willing to put in the work of blending them, fiddling with them, supplementing them, but this is a good formula with virtually no work at all. This is what makes it stand apart, I think. Does this make it worth it? I can’t answer that for you. But it’s good.

On my light-medium olive skin it doesn’t read pink at all (pink always being suspicious, toddlers aside) but a neutral tanned peach. A soft terracotta. I can easily imagine this working well on much paler as well as much darker skin than my own. Suspect it would be nice on lips as well.

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This packaging looks cool and weighs a ton (much more than you’d think. This is satisfying in the way of all small, unexpectedly heavy objects). Not sure how it would play out practically, chucked in a bag, but most of my stash stays at the home base so I’m not concerned about this. It’s not dangerously easy to shift the cover open but I’m not convinced it’s a great protective seal. Not a problem in a clean environment, which your makeup bag may or may not be. I don’t judge.

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smell this: Bruno Acampora Musc

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When I finally picked up Bruno Acampora’s Musc this winter it had been at the top of my fragrance wishlist for over a year. I first heard about it when Katie Puckrik reviewed it on her channel and was, like many, instantly curious. A deep, earthy musk, beautiful, entirely unisex. The team at Lucky Scent gave it an unabashedly glowing review and I knew that I must smell it.

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They are right. It is beautiful. It is earthy. It is resinous. It is not, somehow, to my nose, that musky…it is musky, but not that musky. It doesn’t feel overwhelmingly like musk. Actually, it feels like patchouli (there is patchouli in the base). Like a rooty, vegetal, loamy patchouli.

The opening is peppery and vivid, there is that wonderful healthy basement odor I was trying to describe for Lalique’s Encre Noir. This is a completely different fragrance but it has that same great moldy element. For me it is distinctly mushroomy, which I mean in the best way. Imagine a dark loaf of bread that has just begun to mold, that point where the mold does not yet smell like a warning but instead like an invitation. The mold only adds depth and complexity to the smell of the yeast and the grain, and a slight powdery quality. [Everybody with me?] At the same time there is something I want to call sweet about it. Imparted partially by the cloves, perhaps. It is not sweet, but it has that level of saturation and intensity that sweetness can achieve. In the nose and mouth it feels the way sweetness feels. This is a proper, proper perfume. It is intense, concentrated, and a little goes a long way.

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The back of the box. “Color: gold.” That’s the color I am! In my mind/heart!

Part of the delight of this fragrance is the complexity, and the strangeness. It is hard to identify what you are smelling (I can’t really pick out the individual florals they reference in their description above), creating the [accurate] impression of an elaborate structure. This is the flip-side of the appeal of a clean, one-note fragrance; a simple citrus or soliflore that delights with its bright simplicity. Dark complexity is equally compelling, and Bruno Acampora Musc has it. The real beauty is, when I wear it, I think I have it, a bit. Or, at least, I project it. A few hours after application I find it wonderfully subtle, a muted and more ambery version of its initial self.