#peetrivko

Much like Anthropologie rompers and a perfect top bun, expensive face oils are a low-key luxury that I have never been able to pull off. Not that’s it stopped me or my dwindling bank account from trying.

It started a few years ago with May Lindstrom’s Youth Dew. Just like other models before her, May Lindstrom used her experience as a professional beautiful person to launch a high-end skincare line. Maybe it was the beautiful black glass packaging, Lindstrom’s flawless complexion, or the $140 price tag, but something about this little vial had me convinced that this would be a turning point in my skincare regime. Or as Lindstrom calls it, “the ritual.” (Yeah.)

And while I did achieve a youthful glow – people even commented on it – sadly, this newfound love was not meant to last. In the right lighting I started to notice small, flesh-colored bumps appearing up and down my cheeks. Not pimples per say but definitely not the ideal flat surface I was used to. I bid adieu to the Dew, and in time the congestion cleared.

Onto the next affair: Peet Rivko’s Balancing Face Oil. With its cool minimalist packaging, “next-level natural” branding (a.k.a. green beauty for sensitive skin), and an endorsement from celebrity spirit animal Aubrey Plaza, I was certain that this oil would be different. But sadly, it was the same story all over again. Glowing skin followed by a series of sinister little bumps along the sides of my face. Frustrated, I dumped the bottle down the drain.

I’d like to say that this was end of my trial with face oils, but no. There were others. More than I care to mention really. And every single one went the exact same way: an initial glow followed by an onslaught of clogged pores.

“Maybe I’m just applying it wrong,” I thought as I ordered my most recent botte, a $185 botanical oil from Vintner’s Daughter. While I had just been rubbing past oils into my skin, Vintner’s Daughter claimed I needed to be using the six-step “push/press” method to really get the proper effect of the oil. And so I did. I pushed. I pressed. I waited for full effect.

But the only effect I got included a tapestry of clogged pores along my cheeks and jawline as well as a pimple -- so large I’m now half-convinced it’s a tumor -- buried in my chin. Vintner’s Daughter had done me wrong. But in the long run, they may have done me a favor.

I went to an aesthetician for a birthday facial and told her about my unsuccessful foray into face oils. “Face oils are great,” she said, examining my skin.