Review | Foreo Luna Cleansing Brush
I am unreasonably devoted to my Clarisonic. I started using it three years ago after numerous suggestions from my sister. No matter the consistently mid-tier level of my complexion, it is always worse without my Clarisonic. My skin will revert to a topographical bark that I am constantly trying to husk off as quickly as it grows back like I’m scooping buckets of lake water out of a sinking canoe. It is not without it’s downsides, of course– actually, let’s save that for another post. Given these minimal woes and an affinity for new toys, I decided to give the Foreo Luna ($169) a try. Plus, it came in blue.
[Editor’s note] If I am on the fence about buying something, I will almost always pull the trigger if it comes in blue. Bonus points if it is baby blue.
I bought this on a whim and out of spite after Qian was given one as a gift. Being greedy and impatient, I physically went to a Sephora instead of purchasing it online. When I ripped it open at home, I was pleasantly surprised at its form. It’s silicone body was smooth and satisfyingly matte. It was ovular like a bar of Dove soap and had an ergonomic sensibility that gives off personal massager vibes. The “brush” is actually not a brush at all. It's just a patch of nodules that resemble a field of anemones. I was dubious of its cleansing abilities. How could a silicone nub function the same as a bristle? Could you imagine a toothbrush made of these protuberances? (Well, you don't have to.) Still, I marveled at its antibacterial promises.
I smeared my go to cleanser on my dirty mug (Ole Henrikson Aloe Vera Deep Cleanser, $29) and ran the brush under the faucet. The waterproof chassis prevailed as I turned it on. It vibrated almost inaudibly and I proceeded to rub it on my face. Balk. Immediately, I noticed how hard it was without the give of bristles. It felt like pressing a ladle against my face. I then continued for entirely too long, because it doesn’t automatically shut off on it’s own. Balk.
I rinsed and ran my hand over my face. Texture loomed. My nose was red like a gin-drunk mongrel because the “brush” was so firm and unmalleable that it couldn’t navigate the terrain of a three dimensional face. I set it back on my shelf. It certainly looked good set up in the ecosystem of my bathroom. The next day when it was time to wash my face, I reached for my trusty Clarisonic. The need for my new toy, to this day, remains at large.
Pros: Antibacterial, alleged long battery life, pocketable form factor
Cons: Everything else