If there is one thing I am obsessed with on this earth, it is talking about energy. “Oh my god, my bosses energy is like, so toxic! I can just feel like from 15 feet away like its cologne” or “I’m going to need you to calm down right now, you’re energy is really red and it’s freaking me out” or “She just has really great energy, like a calm mother turtle.” These are all things I have said. One time, I dragged my boyfriend into a vintage store and started to peruse when he grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Emalie,” he said, “We need to leave right now. The energy here is too stressful for me.” We locked eyes and he looked at me defiantly. Obviously he was not having a Long Island Medium moment, he just didn’t want to spend 15 minutes watching me search for size 7 Frye boots. I knew this to be true, but I knew that he was also challenging me. If I called bullshit on this, it would be like calling bullshit on every time I had begged my way out of a party because everyone’s auras were getting “like, really sinister.” It was a game of spiritual chicken and I was going to lose. “Fine,” I sighed, “let’s get out of here.”
But despite being so into energy and relaxation strategies and even claiming to have been hugged by a ghost, I was never interested in yoga. Why? Because yoga is exercise, and I hate exercise. But Emalie! Exercise gives you endorphins! Endorphins make you happy! Happy people don’t just kill their husbands! I know, I know. We all hold this scientific tenet to be super true, it’s just that I hate any movement that isn’t in the direction of a refrigerator. Further, my friend Sara once told me about doing yoga for her school’s athletic requirement and how all the changing positions caused everyone around her to inadvertently fart. A hot room of sweaty red people accidentally farting? Don’t sign me up. I wasn’t just worried about other people farting, I was worried about myself farting!
The only familiarity and enthusiasm I had towards yoga at all was with its pants. I love yoga pants! I have created a hierarchy of what I call “soft pants,” the pants you put on the moment you start to feel even a little distressed. At the top of the soft pants food pyramid is your velour sweat suit; $90 Juicy Couture sweatpants preferred by mob wives and bedazzled by Kardashians as the ending touch of their weddings. New money soft pants meant to be worn with sunglasses on a wealthy cocaine dealer’s private plane. On the bottom of the soft pants pyramid, we have baggy, heather gray sweats, usually distributed for free and preferred by high school field hockey players on their way to early morning SAT practice and female prisoners that use mayonnaise for hair gel. Yoga pants lie neatly in between: they are fitted enough that you don’t look like you’ve spent the greater part of your day crying, and imply brisk errand running and a possible trip to the gym. MAYBE you’ll see me at the CVS in yoga pants and know the truth, that these are the pants that I slept in and I’m unwilling to change out of them just to buy allergy drops, but maybe you’ll think, that woman is just picking up a Smart Water on her way to the gym! She has important things to do and can’t waste her time making eye contact with me!
But where was I? A few weeks ago, I was feeling particularly shitty and grumpy, so my sister suggested we do a bit of yoga. Not leave the house and go to a yoga studio yoga, but simple, psychosomatically effective yet completely unchallenging On Demand yoga. I didn’t want to refuse her suggestion, and I was already wearing the appropriate pants, so I agreed. To my surprise, I really liked it! It wasn’t that challenging, but teacher was really calming and kept me believing that the poses I was doing were great for my energy, which is what I’m all about. “Even though you can’t touch your toes, you’re still doing really good!” she would encourage, and I was inclined to agree. Normally I think that Namaste and “light and love” are well wishes reserved for the use of passive aggressive strippers who are trying to appear nonchalant and remain “classy” in the face of their enemies, but this lady made them seem really genuine! The one thing I did not like about our television instructor, the effervescent Desi, was her look. She was a pretty Stacie Dash look alike but she had distracting, rock hard breast implants and was wearing a Kourtney Kardashian level amount of clown blush. Her appearance didn’t really mesh with the form of yoga instructor. But you see, I am like the Cake Boss. Everything I do, no matter how mundane, gives me a great idea, only instead of brainstorming a towering fondant monstrosity, I am struck by the muse of beauty blogging. Newly energized by my Sun Salute, I will show you how to fake the look of a yoga instructor. Maybe if you look like Namaste you’ll feel like Namaste!
Now, the key to this look is to be casual, kind of sweating, flushed and glowing from within like you’ve been drinking a cup of green tea whilst downward dogging for the past hour and a half. I thought recreating this look would require about 500 products and a bunch of sly trickery, but to my surprise doing yoga had actually given me that yoga glow! It only took a few products and about 5 minutes to have me looking my natural bangingest.
I wanted my look to be bohemian and relaxed, but not sloppy bun simple. While my hair was still wet, I raked in leave in conditioner and the cheap blue Sportz hair gel you can get at the drugstore for $2 through my hair for a little hold. I let my hair airdry to about 80% and then I gathered it to one side and braided it into what I would call a very liberal fish tail. One of my few talents is that my hair can hold a braid without a hair tie, but if you aren’t as genetically blessed as I am I would suggest these Scunci Polybands as a subtle solution.
I started by concealing a few problem areas with Loreal True Match concealer. Normally I would conceal after applying my foundation so my concealer doesn’t get moved around, but because I wanted to make this a minimal makeup look I decided to cover my worst flaws first to see how much coverage I actually needed. I followed with Garnier Skin Renew BB Cream, which smells like an old lady’s vanity in a nice way! This product is a little bit sticky and dewy on the face, so normally I would avoid it, but since the goal here is a little sheen I felt it served me well and livened my face up. Then I blended Benefit’s Sunbeam Highlighter on the apples of my cheeks and cheek bones. The color is described as “golden bronze” but it is too sheer to really be used to make you look tan; rather, its good at making more yellow toned people look ~lit from within~. Finally, I mixed blushes: First I stippled Stila Convertible Color in Peony, a creme blush which I would describe as a dewey, amped up nude on my cheeks, nose, and chin, and I topped it with the world famous Nars Orgasm Blush applied on my cheeks, temples, and under my brows.
EYES and LIPS
Now that my skin was glowing, I focused on my eyes. I lined upper and lower lashes with NYX Jumbo Eye pencil in Yoghurt, a shimmering amber chubby grand that is just really beautiful in person. If you’re thinking about wearing this pencil out of the house, I’d wear it with a primer, because it creases like a bitch! I put a shimmery pink shadown on my lids and wanted to finish the look with a natural mascara, but since I generally only use mascaras with word “fake” or “false” in the title I just used Maybelline’s the Falsies with a very, very light hand. On my lips I put a quick pass of the Revlon Just Bitten Balm Stain in Honey, another subtle nude. I doubt you would wear this look to yoga without sweating it all over the place, but afterwards or on a day you’re feeling lazy but want to look like you’ve been attaining Nirvana it would be perfect. Here’s my look, demonstrated with my hands at heart center. NAMASTE MOTHERFUCKERS!!