The killing of Charlie Kirk was a curious one, mostly because of how far the shockwaves reached, reverberating all the way to Manila. I had never even heard of the man before his death. And yet, suddenly, my feed was full of mourning posts from conservative acquaintances. They were grieving him like he was a fallen hero.

Naturally, I looked him up. What I found was unsettling. There it was, in black and white, years’ worth of inflammatory, cruel statements. Statements that, frankly, seemed to target people like me. People like some of those very same friends now praising him. I am shocked that people I know - the very people Kirk seemed to hate and want to disappear from his version of America - are defending his views.

If you’ve been reading this space for a while, you’d know about my long-standing, conflicted feelings toward doing any major procedures on my face. I’ve been tempted more than once, but each time I managed to hold back, telling myself I didn’t want to rely on treatments just to feel confident. I wanted to believe I could accept the natural changes, to embrace every line as a record of years well-lived.

Here’s the thing though: there was a single deep line on my forehead that just wouldn’t go away. It became less obvious when I lost 20 pounds, but now that I’ve gained back 10, it’s back with a vengeance.

Sometimes it’s the smallest tweaks in design that make the biggest difference in how a makeup product performs. Take the Careline Click on Fleek Brow Liner (P245 / 0.14 g). At first glance, it’s just another twist-up pencil. But look closer and you’ll notice the angled, sword-cut tip. This shape changes the game.

Why? Because our brows aren’t uniform. They have curves, dips, and awkward corners (hello, sparse tail area!) that can be tricky to navigate with a standard round tip.

I’m very selective about the skincare products I try and review. Having acne-prone skin means I need to be extra cautious, because every new product is a risk. One wrong ingredient, one overly harsh formula, and I could be dealing with breakouts that leave marks lasting for weeks, sometimes even months. That’s why I tend to stick with products I know work for me and rarely veer into new territory unless I feel like something truly has potential. But every so often, I come across something that just works. The first few nights of using it, I get this gut feeling that it’s going to make a difference.

Vitamin C is one of those skincare ingredients that enjoys celebrity status. You’ll see it everywhere, from serums to moisturizers, all promising a brighter, healthier complexion. But the question comes up often: is it actually a good idea to use it during the day, when our skin is most exposed to stressors like UV rays and pollution?

Yesterday afternoon, I was looking out the window with my dog. It was raining hard, so the water spattered our faces as the wind blew through our hair. The sky was a smoky grey, mirrored on the slick asphalt below, the ground lit with splashes of neon from cars passing by. The air smelled green, thanks to the riot of houseplants on the balcony. I worried for them. Had there been enough sun this past week?

Looking out at the skyline with my dog, I was reminded of a younger version of myself, the one who believed everything was possible.

I’ve been making art for as long as I can remember. Back in elementary, I was that kid constantly sketching dreamy mermaids and doodling outfit designs in any scrap of paper I could get my hands on. It was always something I enjoyed, for no other reason than the fact that it’s fun. My mother was always supportive and never failed to get me the art materials I requested even when money was tight, something that I will forever be grateful for.

It’s taking me longer and longer to review products these days. I just want to make sure that, when I finally put something out there, it’s something I truly believe in. That means testing it in different conditions, wearing it in various weather (if I can), and really paying attention to how it performs over time. One of the products I’ve been using for a while now is the EB Plus Glazed Lip Booster (P325 / 2g). I even brought it with me on trips to Dubai and Osaka to see how it would hold up in both dry and cool climates. I’m happy to report that it did really well!

Do you remember the exact moment you became an adult? Mine was when, after my first ever pay check, I went grocery shopping. I was shocked by how much of my salary went to a basket of the cheapest basic grocery items I can find. I cried a little in the supermarket aisle because of this. I thought it would be easier! There should be a warning label for adulthood. Something they hand out the moment you pay your first bill or realize chips for dinner is a viable, if not entirely wise, option. Because the truth is, no one really prepares you for the bizarre, often lonely, sometimes liberating experience of being a grown-up. It just...happens. One day you’re in school with a packed lunch and a schedule, and the next you’re staring into your fridge wondering if crackers are enough to hold off your GERD.

Here are some hard truths about adulthood that no one warned me about, but I’ll warn you now.

When it comes to powders, I’ve always had a soft spot for baked formulas. There’s just something about their silky texture and luminous finish that makes them feel a little more special, a little more luxe and even at drugstore prices. So naturally, I had to try the Spotlight Sunbeam Powders(all under P500!) to see if they live up to their glowing promise.

White truffle. It's the kind of ingredient that instantly sounds expensive, and it is. This rare fungus, found mostly in Italy and only during specific seasons, has long been prized in fine dining. But recently, it’s found its way into skincare. Not as a gimmick, surprisingly, but as a genuinely useful active. And before you raise an eyebrow, let’s get into what makes this bougie-sounding ingredient actually worth considering.

I spend a lot of time lurking on Reddit, and one topic that comes up often is wealth disparity. It’s not surprising as this is, after all, one of the defining issues of our generation. The questions take different forms, but they usually boil down to this: what do rich people do than poor people don’t? There’s a certain obsession with decoding how to look rich, and just as urgently, how to avoid looking poor. I understand this. As someone who grew up financially challenged, there is definitely a pressure to break away from being perceived that way. Is that wrong?

I’m not rich, relatively, but I do sometimes hang out with rich people (being a member of two country clubs among other things). This is what I’ve observed rich people do differently. Do with this information what you will.

My mind has been all over the place recently because of some changes in my life and I'm having trouble keeping track of where I am. Obviously I know where my body is physically, but I feel like I'm in a constant state of flux where I can't just sit down and think. Too much stimuli is coming at me and I don’t have enough time to process everything. I play tennis, I go to the gym, but this just stops my mind from running for the time being.

Luckily I came across this post on Substack, and I found it so helpful I thought of sharing it here too.

Every time I start thinking about what beauty means to me now that I’m 37 and well into aging, I get overwhelmed by the task. I don’t feel like I’m old, still, but I acknowledge that my face and body have been changing over the years. I am surrounded by people who look considerably younger than their age because of botox and endless procedures, and they talk about it casually like what they’re having for dinner. That’s their prerogative and I’m genuinely happy that they’re achieving their goals. The side effect, however, is I am now desensitized to body modification culture.

Last year, I was seized by an incredibly strong desire to exhibit my paintings in an art gallery. I get this feeling fairly often. Sometimes I suddenly want to be in a band, or sing opera, or write a memoir and have it published by a respectable publishing house. Last year, I wanted to be An Artist. I was so sure I could make it happen!

Suddenly (and rather randomly), I was invited by an art curator to a show. I went, then attended a couple more openings. But nothing really came of it, mostly because I realized just how much work it takes—not just to make art consistently, but to network in that space and actually get into shows. Eventually, the burning desire faded into a small ember.

Acne is one of those things that manages to feel both like a teenage memory and a current crisis. We try the trendiest serums, the harshest scrubs, and even that one sketchy Pinterest hack we promised ourselves we’d never try again. (Calamansi is for juice and food, okay? Let’s leave it there.) If your acne treatment feels like a never-ending battle, maybe it’s not your skin that’s the problem, but how you’re treating it. Here are five common acne mistakes and the Oxecure product that gently (but effectively!) sets things right.

I didn’t know what to expect from Guerlain’s Abeille Royale Youth Watery Oil Serum (P6,600 /30ml and P9,350 / 50ml). As someone who’s long been loyal to Japanese skincare—formulations that tend to be elegant, no-nonsense, and quietly effective—integrating a French luxury serum into my routine is fairly new to me. I imagined it would be a pleasant enough hydrating product, given the honey and royal jelly marketing, but nothing particularly transformative. I was wrong.

Recently, a plastic surgeon friend of mine casually offered to do liposuction on my arms. For free. Honestly? I’ve never seriously considered lipo before, but that single offer sent me into a spiral. You see, my arms have always been a huge insecurity of mine. They're the first place I gain fat and the last place it ever seems to leave. Even when I’m leaner everywhere else, my arms just…well, they stay the same. Flabby. Wide.

There’s a specific kind of heartbreak that happens when you fall in love with a dress on Instagram, only to find out it costs more than your monthly Meralco bill. But this isn’t new. We all know the drill. A Filipino brand posts a beautiful, flowy piece that looks like it was designed for a slow, sun-drenched afternoon at the beach. You click through, imagine yourself wearing it to brunch or maybe a low-effort art exhibit. Then you see the price. P4,000? For linen? From here? Suddenly, you’re closing tabs and whispering sweet nothings to your Uniqlo wardrobe for always being emotionally and financially available.

So why does buying local hurt our wallets this much?