Crème de la crème
We explore the skincare formulas that continue to enchant successive generations
Ihave a favourite mirror elaborately framed with cloudy-white porcelain flowers, each petal paper-thin. It was originally my grandmother’s and now sits on my dressing table, the antique glass lightly marbled with mercurial marks. My grandmother, my mother and I have all contemplated our reflections in that mirror, likely performing the same beautifying rituals, and I always find comfort in this seemingly small connection, a thread between then and now. Such constants are also being welcomed in our skincare regimes. The barrage of novelty has slowed and many of us are returning to trusted classics as we seek the anchors of familiarity, feel and effectiveness.
Some of this is pure nostalgia. I still recollect the thrill I felt when that grown-up, womanly world first became mine with a visit to the beauty halls on my 16th birthday. The luxurious textures, the powdery scents, the reassuringly heavy jars all gave me a sense of confidence and belonging that those creams – or updated versions of them – still elicit today.
Even now, I remember a brown-and-gold jar of Estée Lauder Advanced Night Repair serum that my mother used to press into her skin with quiet focus every night. And while it first hit shelves in 1982 – when I was two and in no need of Night Repair – thoroughly modern reiterations of the original remain my fail-safe favourite today, beloved for both the reparative benefits and the familial tie. For others, Pond’s Cold Cream or a blue tin of Nivea Crème – both first formulated more than a hundred years ago – will inspire equally vivid associations.
I savour the rituals as much as the results.
The tactile slip of a cleansing balm removed with warm muslin, the evocative smell of a favourite facial oil as you massage it in, or the contemplative instant it takes to pat on an indulgent cream. These moments seem to stretch time in the otherwise blink-and-you-miss-it pace of life. Devoting a little time each day to touch – and the skincare that encourages it – has never seemed more essential.
The marketing term ‘self-care’ makes me squirm, but it acknowledges that these rituals have a meaning that goes beyond simply cleansing and moisturising. It’s no wonder we develop long-lasting emotional ties with the products used to create them. Yet habit and nostalgia alone – as comforting as they both are – don’t benefit the skin. Cult products only endure to become classics if they are demonstrably good: the type you always return to, wondering why you ever wavered. Some need little updating – everything about Crème de la Mer is iconic; others are refined over time, while losing none of their appeal. Lancôme’s bestselling Advanced Génifique Serum has been recently reformulated to include probiotics that soothe, calm and tend to skin’s microbiome of good bacteria.
There is no room for mediocrity on our bathroom shelves, especially in this era of conscious consumption, as we strive to buy less, but better. That includes sustainability, responsibly sourced ingredients and recyclable packaging. Even brands that have earned their following relatively recently are ever innovating in this area. The Rich Cream from Augustinus Bader, an indispensable favourite of mine since it launched only three years ago, has been reformulated to be entirely vegan and the brand is working with the World Land Trust to become carbon-neutral too.
Newcomers may catch my eye, but it’s a rare few that fulfil a need like no other. In 10, maybe 20 years, I might well be sitting in front of that same mirror contemplating my skin, but only a faithful few favourites will have journeyed with me.