Products that probably don't do sh*t

The skincare products I've been dumb enough to buy, reviewed.

May 10, 2023

If you’ve read a certain novel of mine, you know that it’s host to a range of characters who have gone viral for various reasons—some good, some reprehensible, some completely absurd. (So, you know, like real life.)

One of these characters, briefly mentioned, is an elderly woman who becomes internet famous for a video she makes of herself trying a new face cream. The video ends with her angrily declaring, “Well, this stuff doesn’t do shit!”

If that video existed in real life, I would totally share it, because I am pretty sure that 90% of the skincare products I buy don’t do shit either. Does this stop me from buying them? Or watching the ads for them that now constitue three-quarters of my Instagram feed because the algorithm can read my thoughts and feelings and possibly see my face? No. No, it does not.

So, please allow me to show you a few of the products I own that probably don’t do shit. And let me preface this by saying: I know. I know, I know, I know: I am a victim of the patriarchy and capitalism and misogyny and ageism. I am a sucker and a stooge. I am vain as fuck-all. But I’m also conflicted about it all, as I’ve written about at length.

So, let’s just move on to the products, shall we? (“Product.” People in becauty product ads love using that word.)

Bright and Tight. I mean, who wouldn’t buy an eye cream called Bright and Tight?? This PRODUCT is supposed to make my the skin around my eyes look tighter and…I guess brighter? It’s best not to overthink it. I smile after I put it on (when I remember to put it on), because I’m so excited about the impending brightness and tightness of my eye skin. This has the unintended effect of showcasing the many wrinkles under and around my eyes, but reminds me that I do like my smile. I suppose I could have saved $18 by just slapping on some sunscreen and smiling at myself in the mirror, but where’s the fun in that? I have no idea if this product actually does shit. Probably not.

Peace Out Retinol Eye Stick. Retinol helps reduce fine lines, basically by exfoliating dead skin and maybe stimulating collagen production. My doctor confirms this. Although recently, some ad on Instagram for an eye cream told me to STOP USING RETINOL! (because it’s bad for your skin microbiome or something) and buy their product instead. But their product doesn’t come in a stick, and things that come in sticks are fun, which is the main reason I bought this particular product. Does it do shit? Doubtful. But it was cheap, and did I mention it comes in a stick?

Hydrogel collagen mask. Sigh. This is perhaps my saddest, most desperate skincare purchase ever. My chin/jawline has always been a source of insecurity to me, so I thought, what the hell, I’ll give these puppies a shot, even though I’m pretty sure “hydrogel collagen” is a meaningless, made-up thing. On the other hand, these masks get tons of rave reviews on Amazon, which is basically the same thing as science. They also *feel* like they’re working, which goes a long way. They’re refreshingly cool and aspirationally snug, like they’re training my chin flab to be firmer. When I’m wearing them, I look like a cross between a high school wrestler and Hannibal Lecter, and if that doesn’t say “beauty” I don’t know what does. Pretty sure they don’t do shit.

L’Oreal Revitalift Overnight Mask (masque de nuit!). Does anyone actually know what the difference is between a day cream and a night cream? Is the night cream thicker and dreamier? Does it contain a higher percentage of fairy dust? Who knows, but I use the stuff every night—usually whatever brand I have a coupon for at CVS. What I find particularly hilarious about these creams is the “proof” that they work, as described on the package: “The majority of users saw an improvement in skin firmness and reduction in fine lines and wrinkles after 2 weeks.” Yes, the users themselves “saw” it. But we see what we want to see, don’t we, my friends? And we want to see that the $29.95 night cream we just used our ExtraBucks on actually did shit.

I don’t know if this particular cream does or not. What I do know is this: until like four years ago, I thought it was weird that the instructions for these creams said to massage into “face and neck.” Neck? Why bother with the neck? It was my face I was worried about!

HA HA HA!

HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAH…..goddamnit.

Estee Lauder Night Repair Serum. Look, I just needed some foundation. I was at Macy’s—the nice one, at the Burlington Mall—and the Estee Lauder area had some special thing going, with the chairs and the lights and the extra makeup ladies and the promos and the yada yada and I thought: hey, maybe for once in my life I’ll buy something other than L’Oreal foundation using Extrabucks, because I’m a grown-ass woman. And maybe I’ll get a free makeup bag as a bonus gift or something. Next thing I know, I’ve got three ladies around me, doing their practiced oohing and ahhing thing (You’ve got such great skin! You look so young for your age!) and I walk out of there $150+ poorer with not only foundation, but concealer, a facial cleanser a serum. (And, yes, A BONUS GIFT!)

The serum—a word that sounds both scientific AND magical, but is actually neither—is the color and viscosity of engine oil, and for all I know actually is engine oil. Does it do shit? No fucking clue. Maybe if I actually remembered to use it regularly it would. I think I’ve had this one bottle for like three years. It’s going to give my 20-year-old Benadryl a run for its money.

“Jane,” you may be thinking at this point, “you’re a smart lady. Why do you buy this crap when you know that it probably doesn’t do shit?”

Terrific question. I suppose it’s a form of denial—a vain (ha) hope that maybe something will do something to turn back the clock. Also, when your Instagram feed is jammed with this stuff, and it feels like everyone else is doing it, you start to feel like maybe you should, too. Ah, the power of advertising. (And I work in advertising! I should be better than this!)

I’m trying to change gears—really, I am. I’m attempting to inoculate myself against excessive dumb product purchases by reading more articles and blogs that critique beauty culture and debunk the beauty industry’s “science” of skincare. One of these is Jessica DeFino’s Substack, which I recommend—although I will say, the fact that she’s in her early thirties, with nary a wrinkle on her face and a neck as taut as a rubber band, undermines her message a bit. It’s a lot easier to pooh-pooh beauty standards when you already meet them. When I want a kiss-off to the anti-aging industry from a woman who has actually aged, I look to Justine Bateman.

Meanwhile, there are some things I’ve always done—wearing sunscreen, eating well, drinking lots of water, not smoking, getting enough sleep—that actually do do shit for skin, which I will continue to do.

And maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll achieve the ultimate when it comes to my wrinkles and sags and flaws: Not giving a shit.

All posts on Jane’s Calamity are free and publicly available, but if you like my writing, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription so I can buy masque de nuit even when I don’t have Extrabucks. Just hit that “subscribe now” button below.

Jane’s Calamity

Products that probably don't do sh*t

The skincare products I've been dumb enough to buy, reviewed.

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