I am a La Mer Convert
As far as I can understand, there are four tiers of La Mer lotions. They are organized by finishes—dewy, satin, or velvet—which reminds me of house paint in a way that I like. Creme de La Mer is the original formula. It is the richest of the four and requires melting in your palms before applying. I am both intrigued and oppressed by this notion. (Qian uses this and once told me it “saved” her this winter.) The Moisturizing Gel Cream is the lightest formulation. The website pegs it as “ideal for warm weather climates,” which makes it unideal for the New England prison my apartment is in. In the middle are The Moisturizing Soft Cream ($170) and The Moisturizing Soft Lotion. To be safe, I purchased the heavier of the two intermediary options (The Soft Cream), took a cab home, and immediately washed my face so I could put it on. [Ed note: The La Mer YouTube page has several videos that attempt to capture the texture of each cream. I can only describe them as "kind of erotic."]
It comes packaged in a weighty ceramic jar that looks both serviceable but beautiful in the way that French cosmetics typically do. Unscrew the top, and the cream sits firmly in the tub. To extract the product from the jar, it comes with a tiny spoon that I lost immediately. I found its scent pleasant and familiar, like Nivea cold cream or a baby’s forehead. The cream is thick and concentrated to the point of only needing a swipe to cover your whole face. I use both palms to spread the product around on my scaly witch husk and marvel at how shiny it is capable of making me. It makes me feel exactly as luxurious as I imagine Gloria Vanderbilt to be.
I have very oily skin with somewhat midtier eczema on my cheeks in the colder months. This cream serves two purposes—to provide my oily spots with so much moisture that it tricks them into ceasing production of sebum, and to keep my dry spots content. Undoubtedly one of my smarter Christmas splurges.