3/4/17

A recent Goop order reviewed; a story of love, hate and sore armpits.

I receive Goop newsletters and follow Goop on Twitter. Their minimal, clean and simple aesthetic speaks to the me I want to be ( ⬜ ♡ ⬛ ) if I wasn't the me that I actually am ( 🔮 🌴 💖 💃 ). 

Depending on my mood I can either love or hate Goop. My cynical and easily annoyed side is roused while reading their often ridic' "Do" health and wellness section. You can find me actually LOL-ing and audibly tsk-ing as I devour vaginal steaming, shower head detoxing and I eat only raw, sprouted and liquidized things articles on my commute in a "I can't believe this is real, but here I am reading it, shit" fashion.

But then on the flip side (perhaps we can blame the moon, or something, for this?) you'll find my wide-eyed side, my side that falls pray to buy yourself the perfect life subliminal messaging (#Taurus), throwing down her credit card, virtually, in a fully committed, passionate pursuit of the glowing, hydrated, ethical, well rested and detoxified life promised to her, for a price, in the "Shop". That Gwynnie will sell you your aspirations by the artisan crafted bucket load!

So after a few months of carrying existential doubt around with me like a colostomy bag, I wanted to feel good. Is that so wrong!? It was time for a mental and digestive reset; frozen pizzas, mood elevating and sugar laden (read, not the antioxidant kind) chocolate + nightly bottle hitting (yeah, I'm not fussy here I'll take anything from beer, to whiskey, to wine, gin, rum, yeah...) is fun but my pants were getting tight.

What better way to start this shift than with a little shopping for things that hold the promise of improving my existence in some way? Like, I get to feel like I've done something, but I actually haven't apart from acquiring a few air miles... I'm SO in.

Cue my Goop shopping spree:
Agent Nateur deodorant - because toxins absorbed through the armpit are a real thang.
Glow Inner Beauty Powder - because this is about more than just my face looking like shit, but my internal self needing all the help it can get too.
Delicious Mint Cocofloss - because right now this is easier than finding an afternoon to go and get my bi-annual dental check up.
Korean Black Charcoal Soap - because, well no real reason for this really, it just looked cool and I heard this was the good shit in the soap world.

My package arrives and it's smaller than predicted. I assume maybe another box is coming with another part of the order, but upon opening it's all in there. All the products seem miniature, I can hold all 4 items in my not exceptionally big hand. I question if this was really worth the $130 price tag but then I remember that Gwyneth fucking Paltrow uses this shit so I should just shut my pauper thoughts down and bask in the smugness of having the same products that Chris Martin looks at while peeing and visiting the kids in my (unclean) bathroom. 


This thing smells lovely; the perfect notes of eucalyptus that are noticeable but not headache inducing are exactly what I expected and wanted out of a Goop approved deodorant. However, what Goop doesn't mention is that this thing is hard, hard and somewhat sandy. In fear of a friction burn I have to stop applying before I am covered in the amount of this deodorant I actually need to cope with my normal levels of womanly perspiration. However, the packaging looks great by my sink and makes me want to stage an IG for it against one of those $10 white sheepskin Ikea rugs. But I don't. 


Ok, I think I'm going on the record to say this stuff works. I look at the ingredients and it's a bunch of rice and quinoa powder and some other crap ground up that I can't understand why it would work, but my skin looks visibly better after a week or so of using it. Only downside is it tastes somewhat synthetic and needs to be concealed in a blended beverage with many other flavors (Pina Colada, anyone?). The Goop reco that this could be mixed with water is some straight BS, don't do it unless you like clumps of stevia laced yellow powder in your Crystal Geyser. And upon some pretty elementary googling of this product, I found an advanced version of it (whatever that means) for $10 LESS than the reg' run o' the mill version I bought. Not cool Goop, and not cool me for not doing more research before hitting "buy". 


In a Goop article I read, a light framed woman wearing oversized, minimal attire with icy-bleached, short blonde hair liked this floss. I don't think I have anything in common with this woman, but her approval is apparently enough for me to want to buy this. I looked up Cocofloss and they are a Bay Area company, so now I have twice the reason (#shoplocal) to spend $8 on dental floss. This item is another winner. Which I'm kinda bummed about TBH because this just seems like too much money to spend on fibers to drag betwixt my teeth to dislodge old food and plaque. But I have to say, this is the most thorough floss I've ever used and again, packaging that could inspire an IG shoot. I'm a S.U.C.K.E.R.


A couple of friends had told me about the benefits of black charcoal soap. YES! I was about to buy something based on the opinion of real people who I actually trust. Take that Goop and your faux influence! *while I give you my money*

Goop promised that this soap "inspired by the purification ceremonies of modern-day female Korean shamans" would leave my skin "of course, deeply purified" (actual words). Do you think they laugh when they write this stuff? Anyway, it actually burned my eyes and got a chunk knocked out of the side of it in transit to boot. This product made me kind of sad - full of deep promise but basically Irish Spring's weird brother. Not everything I was hoping for, but then maybe that's my bad for pinning so much on lowly bar of cool looking soap.

So to conclude: in life you win some and you lose others. Shopping via Goop is no different. In the meantime, I've put myself on Whole 30 (which the damn beauty powder is not compliant with), joined a gym and low and behold, the actual action of doing something - vs. trying to buy it - has been wholly more satisfying. At least for now, anyway.