Burt’s Bees Vanishing Facial Powder
(Part of my Green This House program.)
Over the years, I’ve generally stuck by Maybelline’s PureStay Powder & Foundation (with SPF 15) because 1. it made me feel pretty, and 2. keeping my skin melanoma-free was the one thing that made sense in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours. (But mostly because it made me feel pretty.) Of course, this was before I discovered it had a hazard score of 2.9, and had likely been tested on animals. So when I was at the organic deli by work the other day, I picked up Burt’s Bees Vanishing Facial Powder, because, hey, it’s 100 percent natural, right? The packaging was made from recycled paper, and the aluminum tin containing the powder was supposedly easy to recycle, as well. Everything seemed on the up and up, no bunnies were drop-kicked on their shaven, cold-cream-smeared butt-cheeks, and so forth. Surely someone with an earthy, regular Joe Shmoe name like Burt, who KEPT BEES, by golly, would have the best interest of my facial pores at heart? Because if I’m wrong, then GODAMMNIT I don’t know what to believe in anymore.
I later found out the Vanishing Facial Powder had a hazard score of 1.1, which is better than Maybelline’s, but is still a flag of moderate concern.
The round tin itself is, give or take a few, about four inches across, making it less wieldy than your standard-issue compact. Also, the lid makes a metallic sucking sound as you pop it off the rest of the tin to get to the powder—severely impeding any stealth touch-up attempts while away from a bathroom counter (for those of you who aren’t coupled and haven’t experienced the joy of watching the light get snuffed from your designated life partner’s eyes as you let yourself go). You don’t get a mirror either, but carrying a pocket-size one would save the extra resource depletion and waste most cosmetics containers are guilty of anyway. The powder at the base of the tin sifts itself through a perforated plastic divide, across which you are instructed to “lightly dip your puff.” The copywriter forgot to add that the puff will DEVOUR YOUR FACE in a dust storm of mica, calcium carbonate, and kaolin.
Granted, I have the grace and poise of a sack of moldy potatoes (which is why my prescient mother hurriedly took me out of kindergarten ballet class before the public stonings began), but I doubt that even the most adroit among us would be able to twist the lid off and pry off the Puff That Ate Manhattan without dispersing flurries of powder about their immediate person and going into sneezing convulsions.
Once I repressed the psychic scarring and used a smaller sponge, however, the powder glided on smoothly on my skin and blended in quite nicely. Coverage was only so-so, though, making me feel less pretty than I did with Maybelline’s foundation. So, not to sound like a total skankoid or anything, but if it’s alright with you and your bees, Burt, I think I’ll keep looking. (Well, after I’m done with using this, which won’t be for a good long while since Burt has packed A LOT of powder that does make it worth the $15.99.)
