Every summer, right about the time the tomatoes start splitting on the vine and the air feels thick enough to slice, I notice the same thing in the mirror: my eyelids look a little more purple, a little more veiny, and any heavy concealer I try to pat on seems to gather itself into creases before I’ve even finished my iced tea. A younger version of me would have fussed and layered and powdered until I looked older than I felt. These days, I appreciate anything that works quickly, feelslight, and doesn’t melt off by noon.
The little trick I’m
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