10 tips for avoiding seasonally dry skin

For the past two weeks, I've been thinking and thinking and really thinking about a cute, quirky title for the post I knew I'd be writing soon on how to avoid the Winter dry-out.

After going through iteration after iteration, playing with word couplings, coming up with fun-to-say alliterative combinations and running through the potential plays on words using various forms of cold-weather onomatopoeia, I decided enough was enough and that this post, with or without a quirky title, needed to be published. And by the looks of it, Ms. Flaky von Dryington, my sage advice on this subject couldn't have come at a more critical time.

So, in a very sobering, straightforward fashion, here are 10 tips I strongly recommend you follow to avoid the Winter flakes.

The skin flakes. Get it?

(clearing throat)

Without further ado...

1. Take warm (not hot) showers and baths

2. Use a lotion-infused or gel-based soap like this

3. Reduce body exfoliation to at most once per week

4. Pat yourself dry with a plush towel, don't wipe dry with a rough-textured one

5. As always, moisturize from head-to-toe immediately out of the shower

6. Swap your regular body lotion for a more intense formula like this or this

7. Keep travel-size bottles of this more intense formula in your desk at work and in every handbag you regularly use (NEVER scratch -- just rub some into your skin to relieve the itch)

8. Increase your full-body moisturizing regiment from two to three times a day (I tend to apply before work, when I return home and just before bed)

9. Slip on something made of a natural, soft-to-the-touch material that will act as a barrier between your skin and the nubby wool of your turtleneck or the rough texture of your jeans

10. If your skin is still dry after following tips 1-9, don't be too proud to see a dermatologist for a more medically informed perspective on the situation. We all go at one point or another.

Because I know it's wrong...because I know it's wrong...

I've learned quite a bit about being a Mum in the past two years.

I've learned how to manipulate my schedule just so to ensure my puddlebug gets his minimum four 20-minute walks per day no matter how busy, sick or heartbroken I happen to be; I've learned how to reconcile my penchant for wearing all clothing black while living in a constant state of shedded white fur; I've learned the necessity of reallocating funds away from my shopping habit to put toward his monthly insurance bill and Shady Springs slush fund; and then there are the little things, like learning how he needs his paw stroked through rough patches of airplane turbulence and how to diffuse his frustration when I fidget too much during our superclose shared sleep.

In short, since I've had my little Montesquieu, I've become a much more responsible, selfless and practical person.

So much so, in fact, that when I receive e-mails like the one today from Saks announcing the addition of "Juicy Crittoure" pampered dog accouterments to their online offerings, I can honestly say, despite my own fixation with twice daily full-body moisturizing, I wasn't even tempted to place this Pawtection softening paw balm ($28 at saks.com) into my basket.

Not even a little bit.

After all, even an entitled prince(ss) still needs his ability to grip a sidewalk.

I'm pretty sure the boss doesn't want to see your jacked-up heels

I know not every professional woman in this city shares my view on the notion that a serious job is no excuse for turning a blind eye - or in many cases, a pair of blind eyes - to how one looks as they bridge the divide between home and office.

I realize for some of you, whether it's out of necessity or preference or whatever, clothes are just...well, clothes. Nothing more. And certainly nothing over which you find yourself fretting, fawning or foregoing meals on a daily basis.

But in the spirit of a post I wrote a few months back in which I questioned one young woman's decision to introduce the belly shirt to a Sunday morning church service, I would like to here and now raise the issue of another peculiar - and in my opinion, equally offensive - lapse in think-of-how-it-affects-others judgment.

And that would be the jacked-up, cracked-up, haven't-seen-a-bottle-of-Jergens-since-the-Clinton-administration heels stuffed into a pair of besequinsed too-small, peep-toed, kitten-heeled slides.


There are few female body parts that when taken care of properly have the ability to distract (at least temporarily) from a busted mug, a bulging belly, jumbly thighs or a shiteous haircut. Gorgeous, fresh skin does the job, a taut pop of ass definitely goes a long way, and the last feature on this shortlist, the feature that can really boost a 5 to a 6.5 and the reason why so many of us spend more time and money at the salon than we should or can afford is a pretty, well cared-for pair of feet.

But as I saw yesterday evening at the intersection of 17th and L, the power that on one hand can upgrade a woman's hotness factor has the power to down-down-downgrade it as well.

You wouldn't expose your colleagues to a rash on your inner thigh, you wouldn't share with the world an infected, ingrown nail, you wouldn't find it appropriate to wear a top that highlighted a giant whitehead on your back, so why, why are so many women - not just the aforementioned one, but throngs and throngs of callous and fissure-flaunting females in my pocket of the city - under the misconception that their so-dry-they-look-diseased feet have the right to see the light of day in an office setting?

To all the women who favor the slide, I implore you, either lotion 'em up, or keep 'em well encased in a non-slingbacked pump, boot, sneaker, hell even one of those stupid-looking pootie things.

Because from now on, I'd like to keep down my $5.49 Infinite Orange smoothie, thank you.

Reason No. 1,209 why I'm not ready to have children

Unlike most women my age, I never had the pleasure of babysitting neighborhood kids to earn extra money. It's not that I declined offers (or an offer) but rather that young mothers looked at me and my neatly aligned Gene Hackman/Mandy Patinkin/Ralph Fiennes Trapper Keeper mosaic, heard the expletive-filled Above the Rim soundtrack blasting out of my chunky foam earphones and took note of the CD-sized "I'm a citizen for Court TV!" button pricked through the front pocket of my Mets-blue Jansport and just knew I wasn't someone to whom they felt immediately comfortable entrusting their children.

Compounding their reluctance was the fact that I didn't have any younger siblings or nearby younger cousins and thus had no firsthand experience wiping, changing, fixing, hushing, and all those other seemingly natural maternal reactions with which a proper babysitter should be equipped.

To my peers, those who spent their Saturday evenings clocking in at this house or that house for a night of child-friendly television and mac-n-cheese-n-Vienna-Sausages, I was the unlucky one, the one who didn't get to coo and frolic on all-fours until Mom and Dad returned from their neatly scheduled once-a-month trip to an upscale chain restaurant.

To me, I was spared.

Besides, Saturday night was for doing extra credit, watching NBC's 'Thrillogy' and scouring magazines for more brooding pictures of Gene Hackman, Mandy Patinkin and Ralph Fiennes to occupy the few bits of available real estate still left in my take-to-school masterpiece.

Now, at the tender age of 27, in large part because I've spent little if any time around those whose years number below my own, I find I'm just not the "Awwww, look at her/him" type when I see a Bugaboo pram coming at me with a nestled-in Juicy-Couture-clad toddler nursing a happy-colored sippy-cup. I certainly don't wince or cross the street when faced with these situations, but I do go out of my way to avoid receiving the mother-to-single-woman "you'll-be-here-one-day" half-smile, because I know how unnatural my "I-sure-will-be-and-I-can't-wait!" expression will look and how prematurely it'll tumble into ambivalence or in cases where EHF-level shrieking is involved, a physically-pained, wide-eyed grimace.

And now, with the back story firmly in place, enjoy reason no. 1,209 why I'm not ready to have children:

Time - 1:35pm

Location - the ladies room at Olive's (16th/K St.)

Characters - unsuspecting 9 year old, unsuspecting 9 year old's mother and myself

The Encounter:

(exiting the right hand stall, moving my way toward the left hand sink)

"Hello," a neither friendly nor unfriendly voice called out.

(looking around and finally seeing the outline of a smallish female frame standing between the left stall and the exit) "Oh, hello," I said, surprised to be addressed by one so young in such a power-lunch destination, "how are you?"

"I'm fine, how are you?" the young girl clad in light-wash denim shorts and a floral-trimmed 3/4-length sleeved t-shirt answered and asked in an up-and-down-up-and-down mechanical pitch similar to the way a language lab tape for newly-arrived immigrants might sound.

(wicking away the moisture from my handwashing) "I'm really good, actually -- the vegetarian panini was delicious."

"I got a hamburger."

(patting my hands dry) "Hmmm, next time, try the panini, you won't even notice you're eating vegetables. It's that good."

(silence)

"Lotion?" I asked, presenting her with my outstretched hand and in it my next-to-last bottle (probably ever) of Ho wood, lavender and Ylang Ylang infused Aromatherapy Associates moisturizer courtesy of the Mandarin Oriental Central Park South.

"Um, no. No, thank you."

"You really should."

"I...I don't know what..."

"It's best to start young with a lotion routine. Here's a simple rule my Mom taught me when I was even younger than you are now -- if you get your skin wet, pat it dry like this (patting my forearm with a paper towel) and then moisturize. Always. Whether you've just showered, gone swimming or..."

(the left hand stall's lock clinked open and a woman resembling my young conversant exited)

"What are you telling my daughter? To moisturize?" the woman asked in an unexpectedly bemused tone, her noticeably ruddy, hardworking hands finding their way to each respective hip.

"Uhhh...yeah, something like that. Sorry, I gotta go...my friend's waiting for me upstairs"

Note to self: preach the lotion gospel only to those without scaly-skinned chaperones.

10 must haves for a beautiful Summer

10. Nothing is sexier than a toned, tanned pair of pins -- except for a toned, tanned pair of pins shined to the hilt with this very subtle glimmer oil. Did I mention it smells like gingerlily?

($45 at all Blue Mercury locations)

9. Whether you sit in the sun or not, this bronzer will give you that desirable natural sunkissed look we're all after. What sets this bronzer apart is its touch of gold shimmer and its SPF 15.

($28 at stilacosmetics.com)

8. Because Summer is sandal season, you'll need your feet to be as presentable as possible. If you're like I am and can only justify the price of a pedicure every four or five pay periods, get this great foot soak, a pumice stone and do it yourself, girl!

($26 at skinstore.com)

7. I advocate a year-round no-more-than-three-shampoos-per-week routine, but with DC's high Summer humidity, oil buildup is going to look not only unprofessional but downright homeless. This hair powder, which comes in four colors (black, brown, blondish and red), will give your scalp the look of a same-day-shampoo.
($40.95 at amazon.com) 6. Because your lips sit in the sun just as much as the rest of your non-bikini-covered bits, go for the best when it comes to lip care -- go for Kiehl's. One of these tubes lasted me the entire May-August 2006 tanning season, and that's saying something considering how liberally (and often) I applied this balm after all those rough-and-tumble "sessions" down Dupont Circle side streets.

($8.50 at kiehls.com)

5. To see your skin at its healthiest, you need to indulge in a once-a-week full-body exfoliation treatment. This particular one sloughs with the best of the pricey sugar scrubs and it smells divine. What I like most is that even after your spritz on your favorite Summer scent (I like Sake by fresh), you can still detect a hint of pink citrus.

($15 at sephora.com)

4. Everything I wrote for the previous product applies here, save for the bit about lingering fragrance. Unlike most of the drugstore exfoliants, this one is a gentle scrub with rounded beads that won't irritate even the most sensitive face. I look forward to every Wednesday night, which in my household is not only double-anchovy thin-crust night but exfoliation night as well. Who says I don't have excitement in my life?
($25 at sephora.com)

3. Being the lifelong lotion-phile I am, I've tried everything from imported body butters to boutique salves to your most basic CVS-brand hand lotion. Through my ever-continuing search to find the holy grail of moisturizers, however, this thick Vitamin E-infused drugstore lotion has always come through victorious. If you could touch my legs right now (I'm touching them for you), you'd go out and join Sam's Club right now and buy two cases of the stuff. It's that good. And that affordable.

($5.29 at drugstores everywhere)

2. With the suntanning, the lack of sleep and the propensity to cry every time I listen to Roberta Flack or watch a Julia Roberts movie on TBS, the skin under my eyes is the first noticeable sign I'm no longer in my mid-20s. Hands down, this undereye cream is the one "luxury item" I would take with me if I were ever cast on "Survivor."

($46 at clinique.com)

1. As with body lotion, I've been testing, trying and second-trying facial moisturizers my entire life. Not just adult life but thanks to my Mom, my entire life. This is the richest one I've found in an under-$50 price-point. And yes, it has the requisite SPF 30.

($16.12 at amazon.com)

The perfect day for a lunch-time tan

This being my third post in three days having to do with suntanning, you all are probably thinking I have a skin cancer death-wish.

And while I don't have any convincing evidence to dispute this claim - perhaps in itself an admission of guilt - I can assure you that even though I spend an inordinate amount of time obsessing over things like which neckline and hemline to wear to maximize my shoulders' and legs' sun intake, the angles at which the sun hits the various parts of my body, and the amount of time I'm facing the sun versus having it at my back, I'm still a very responsible young lady when it comes to protecting that which is most valuable to me.

No, after my legs.

After my bah'um.

No, no before all that shit on my resume.

Yes, that's right -- my *face*.

Beginning with J.Lo's professed favorite and ending with those that even a lowly analyst can afford, here are my picks for the most effective non-prescription sun-shielding daily facial moisturizers:

1. La Mer by Creme da le Mer ($195 at neimanmarcus.com)

2.Repairwear Day SPF 15 by Clinique ($47 at clinique.com)

3. Protective Face Lotion SPF 15 by Bobbi Brown ($45 at saks.com)

4. Protective Moisturizer SPF 15 by Trish McEvoy ($40 at saks.com)

5. Abyssine Lotion SPF 15 by Kiehl's ($40 at kiehls.com)

6. Daily Protective Moisturizer by DDF ($36 at sephora.com)

7. Waterproof SPF 30 by Murad ($35 at sephora.com)

8. Total Effects Vitamin Complex by Oil of Olay ($17.99 at drugstore.com)*

9. Healthy Defense Daily SPF 30 by Neutrogena ($13.99 at cvs.com)

10. Daily Facial Moisturizer by Cetaphil ($9.99 at drugstore.com)

*what your editrix's uses

So swipe on some Kiehl's Lib Balm SPF 15, grab your book, your 400 calorie lunch (300 if you aren't working out today) and I'll meet you - and the large homeless contingent - in the roundabout park in 15!

80 degrees and sunny -- on a work day.

There's no greater feeling than waking up on a lazy Saturday or Sunday morning (or afternoon, technically) and while still in bed, without consciously thinking about it, already knowing from the temperature in the air and the strength of the shadows on the floor just how warm and sunny a day you're about to enjoy.

Aside from the only non-negotiable - the prince's five daily walks - these days are filled with one, maybe two open-ended commitments. Whether it's a late Cafe Saint Ex brunch or a manicure with L, naughty store purveying with P, or an action movie and gun show one-two-punch with R, lazy weekend plans, even those that require pre-arrangement, are made with the mutual understanding that when, where and what are all subject to change for no better reason than either party feels like staying where they are just a little bit longer.

Getting dressed on one of these days, for me, usually involves a bikini, dressy shorts, an Ella Moss slight-pouf cap-sleeved tee and bright flats. I pull my hair, including my bangs, completely off my face, brush on some concealer if I need it, swipe bronzer onto my apples, apply a double-coat of waterproof mascara and dab on some shine with my Kiehl's lip balm. Maybe a spritz or four of fresh Sake behind my wrists, knees and elbows. Very laid-back, very low maintenance.

Tomorrow, unfortunately, is going to be one of these days, but with a long run, an 8:30 to 5:30 work day and a proper, supportive bra in place of sleeping 'til 11, lounging without looking at a clock and lycra triangles held together by a bit of string.

What can a girl do to get excited about the first 80-degree day of the year when it falls on, of all days, a Tuesday?

There are several things, actually.

Assuming the proper planning and purchasing have been taken care of, you can debut your new Spring 2007 makeup palette; assuming your toes are in warm-weather shape, you can rock your killer peeptoes; and assuming you own one, you can float through the day in a fabulous lightweight, work-appropriate dress that easily transitions from professional to sexy for that post-work al fresco happy hour at Le Bar opposite the White House.

Oh, and don't forget to carefully assemble that all-important first iMix of the season, too. Having the right soundtrack on your way to work is critical to establish the desired mood for the day.

That means replacing Snow Patrol with Ludacris, Rachael Yamagata with Beastie Boys and Graham Parker with Mungo Jerry's "In the summertime."

Now go lay out that outfit before you wash your face and apply your before-bed lotion treatment.

The spring-is-on-its-way blouse

A couple of weeks ago, I gave you the spring-is-on-its-way jacket. Today, on this first morning of my 27th year where I didn't regret walking my puppy in flip-flops and an up-top commando, ultra-thin pale yellow "Little Miss Chatterbox" tee, I was inspired to provide for you a collection of mid-weight blouses that can be comfortably worn on their own or paired with a lightweight jacket in 55-70 degree temperatures.

Among these fifteen, the range is wide, extending from pushing-summer-outdoor-brunch-wear to casual-Friday-to-work-wear to front-runner-for-next-Thursday's-date-at-the-Ritz-wear.

Or, if all goes well, a blouse that seamlessly bridges that Thursday night date to the casual Friday at work.

What? All that matters is that you know you only watched Tivo-d episodes of "The Colbert Report" and sipped Diet Sunkists until you fell asleep in one of his oversized West Palm Beach Golf Club tees.

Just promise me that if you choose a silk or satin blouse, you'll hang it up before retiring to bed.

Spring is on its way, ladies, which means you need to think about three things:

1. If you haven’t started your tippy-top to bitty-bottom, twice-a-day lotion regiment, GET ON IT. Tights won’t save your pasty scales in May.

2. Bikini season is a not-far-off three months away. Exercise and eat accordingly.

3. If you want to indulge in the sleeveless look, please do yourself and everyone around you the favor of making sure you’ve earned the right to do so first. Not eating the Cosi bread samples while you’re waiting in line for your salad and adding a set of 50 girl pushups after your spin, yoga and Pilates classes is a good start. Key word -- start.

Enjoy!

Top to bottom:

1. Ticket punch blouse by Fei ($118 at anthropologie.com)
2. Solana pointelle sweater by Maple ($88 at anthropologie.com)
3. Rozier sweater ($78 at anthropologie.com)
4. 2 in 1 sweater by Robert Rodriguez ($300 at activeendeavors.com)
5. Luca blouse by Valentine ($297 at activeendeavors.com)
6. Silk bell top by Geren Ford ($246 at pinkmascara.com)
7. Kelley stay top by Theory ($64 at pinkmascara.com)
8. Satin stripe chiffon blouse by Anna Sui ($207.90 at saks.com)
9. Pele top by Diane von Furstenberg ($245 at dvf.com)*
10. Silk print smock top by Ted Baker (£70 at asos.com)*
11. Peter pan tie-neck blouse (£35 at topshop.com)
12. High flying tee by Lux ($38 at urbanoutfitters.com)
13. Dolman-sleeve empire top by Fever ($68 at macys.com)
14. Pintucked top by Lucky brand ($54.99 at macys.com)*
15. Safari shirt by MICHAEL for Michael Kors ($64 at nordstrom.com)

*your editrix's top picks

That's not bronzer, that's windburn.

When I lived in Inner Mongolia it was during the "warm" season between April and September. You'll understand, then, that during my time there, whenever I encountered someone with a pair of rosy cheeks, my first reaction to whomever the flush belonged to - child or adult - was to get right up in their grill and coo, "oh, how ADORABLE!"

It was not until the third month of my stint there, potentially forty or fifty such coos later, that one of my colleagues finally asked me, "What exactly is it about permanent windburn that you find so adorable?"

"Permanent windburn?"

"Yeah, it's July, it's 75 degrees outside, and their cheeks are red, bordering on purple -- what did you think it was? Bronzer?"

Right. That was a bad day.

So you can imagine my horror last night, when, upon arriving home after a blustery 12 minute half-walk, half-jog, I realized I too, had fairly severe wind-whips on the apples of my cheeks.

What's so puzzling is that I don't have fair skin, I don't have dry skin, I don't even have sensitive skin, but there they were, having defied the protection of my thick winter moisturizer, the unmistakable streaks of windburn.

If it can happen to me, it can happen to you. Tips for cold weather skin maintenance - and winter makeup - coming later in the day.

A showpiece coat doesn't go with everything.

We all know a showpiece coat when we see one.

It's a coat whose big burst of look-at-me color punches up an otherwise monochromatic ensemble. It's a coat that makes you think its wearer knows a bit more about style than you slogging along in your part-of-the-establishment black wool-blend bore. And if it's a good one, a showpiece coat is a coat that garners compliments and envious stares from both men and women at every intersection. Unlike a polka-dot Milly blouse with keyhole back hidden beneath a sweater or Michael Kors platform slingback that barely peeks out from under a trouser cuff, the whole world can bask in the beauty of a brightly-colored showpiece coat.

Though any one at any size can wear such a coat, most women are afraid to purchase this attention-getting piece. What may surprise most men is that this fear is rooted more in money than it is in insecurity. Whether you're a grad student or a partner in a top ConnAve law firm, a coat is a serious wardrobe investment. And since it's also an everyday item you wear to and from work, not to mention battling the weekend black-AmEx-sass on Georgetown's too-narrow sidewalks, you need it to go with just about everything in your closet. Few if any articles of clothing require as much versatility as a woman's winter coat, and this is precisely why so many of us choose to be practical and go for the blacks, the camels, and the grays and love the metallic brocades, the plaids, and the leopard-prints from afar.

Because I fit neatly into the former category in my black, single-breasted dress coat (though I do pop the collar for dramatic flair) I go out of my way to admire and openly compliment women who have chosen - and financially earned - the showpiece route.

As is the case with any trend, wearing something bold and fashionable doesn't necessarily make the person wearing it bold and fashionable.

Point in case: a woman I saw today walking by - not inside, but by - the Au bon Pain on L between 18th and 19th Streets.

About 5'10" in tall, skinny black heels that were a tad too pointy and more than a tad too silver-buckley for my taste, my subject had light brown hair swept up into a messy ponytail, a gray cashmere scarf, a large mahogany doctor-style faux croc patent leather satchel, a pair of red and cream herringbone trousers, and a burnt orange showpiece coat very similar to the one pictured above right.

There aren't many hard and fast rules when it comes to fashion, but one of them has to be that black, gray, mahogany, red, cream, and burnt orange can never be pulled off in the same outfit.

Another non-negotiable rule is that if you own a showpiece coat, you must accept the fact that it cannot be your everyday coat. You need at least one other piece of understated outerwear in the wings for when you feel like getting a color fix in another area of your outfit. Mixing even one loud color with your showpiece coat can result in a Paula-Abdul-at-an-awards-show magnitude disaster.

As large a swath of vibrance as this woman's coat was, for the rest of her ensemble, she really should have stayed within the orange-friendly color palette, which includes browns, black, ivory, and the always friendly denim. But that's it, those are her only options if she wants to wear her orange coat and not look like an artist at a Woodstock commune.

The daybag, the scarf, and the heels were neutral, so separately, they could comfortably mingle with other colors and patterns, but none of them were that fabulous, so I'd recommend she donate them to the jobless Cheney-haters in the "Stop bitching and start a revolution" t-shirts outside Borders and start afresh. If for some reason she felt she needed to air out those perplexingly ugly trousers again, she should think first about investing in a khaki trench and pair of round-toed brown pumps, and then afterwards think of a good reason as to why she likes walking around looking like a strawberry Lifesaver Swirl Pop from the belt down.

Besides her hair, which could have used some deep-conditioning (try Frederic Fekkai's Rx Reparative conditioner at sephora.com for $22, or free if you stay at the Ritz in New York), something else I noticed about this young woman was her devastatingly chapped skin. Her face was chapped, her lips were chapped, and her hands were scaly and bone-white with purplish-red clusters over most of her knuckles. Looking down at my own perfectly moisturized hands - they really are something - I couldn't help but feel like the privileged family in the Land Rover driving through the ghetto to get to the country club. "I should give back," I thought, and as my hand dipped into my daybag to offer her some of my Archipelago Sugar Cane & Coconut Hand Salve ($24 at beautybridge.com), I stopped and remembered I was on a budget and really couldn't spare any of my expensive lotion.

"Besides," I thought, "any woman with an orange showpiece coat can afford her own $1.70/oz hand cream."

Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize

It was an indelible life lesson my Mother imparted to me: if ever caught between getting somewhere on time and looking your best, always choose the latter. At the tender age of 26, I've come to realize this can't always be the case, especially if the place at which you are expected involves an important meeting or the birth of a child (though photographic evidence proves my Mom was in full debutante force when both my brother and I were born). It also doesn't apply if you're so far down the ugly path that a well-executed beauty regiment would still have you looking like Cameron Diaz. Come on, people, we've all been pretending for too long she's not beastly-looking.

Let's start at the beginning. It's morning, you've taken your shower, you've blotted off (use the towel to blot, not wipe, so as to avoid unnecessary skin aggravation), so what's next? If you said "get dressed," then thank goodness you're here, because that is NOT the right answer. What you should do is reach for the moisturizer. It doesn't need to be from Kiehl's, it doesn't have to smell like J'adore, it just has to be lotion. Let's not be lazy here, not only do your arms and legs need attention but so do your toes, your bottom, and your armpits. Everyday. And if you aren't limber enough to reach your back, get a man to do it. Unlike stale married conversation, slathering cream on your unreachable bits is a routine he'll look forward to.

The great thing about the skin on your body (unlike that on your face) is that it truly is never too late to make a major difference in its appearance. The way I try to think about it is that this is an investment in your skin, both in terms of money and time. The returns are worth every bit of your sacrifice. The tan you earned lounging by your friend's rooftop pool will last longer, you'll be able to go hose-free well into Fall, and you'll rock that Julie Haus dress with the exaggerated keyhole back like you never thought you could.

Every day since I was seven, no matter if I had pneumonia, was spending the night in a yurt in Inner Mongolia, or wallowing in a Veuve stupor over a man "who just can't," rest assured my skin was hydrated. And yours should be, too.

My favorite reasonably-priced moisturizers:
1. Oil of Olay Quench Body Lotion (CVS, $7.99 for 13.5oz)
2. St. Ives Vitamin E Advanced Body Lotion (CVS, $5.29 for 18 oz)
3. Vaseline Intensive Care Renewal Age Redifining Lotion (CVS, $5.99 for 20.3oz)

My favorite over-priced moisturizers:
1. Mistral Melon-Pear Olive Oil Lotion (Anthropologie, $20 for 10.8oz)
2. Fresh Sugar Shea Butter (sephora.com, $38 for 3.5oz)
3. Archipeligo Sugar Cane & Coconut Lotion (beautyexplorer.com, $24 for 15oz)