One of the downsides of being a lifelong beauty enthusiast is that you become picky. Very picky. I, for example, am nearly impossible to please when it comes to facial cleansers. I hate having to use a makeup remover before washing my face, so I want something that can take it all off — eye makeup included — without stinging or stripping or leaving those ground-in makeup smudges around my eyes. That doesn't sound too demanding to me, but few cleansers have ever lived up to my exacting standards. I started to wonder, What if what I really want isn't a cleanser at all? (Why yes, I did say this in a Carrie Bradshaw voiceover tone, thanks for asking.)
"Removes Your MakeUp with Just Water!" promises the box of The Original MakeUp Eraser. Sounds like magic, right? But I've been burned by fancy promises before, so I was still skeptical when I pulled the hot-pink, 100 percent polyester cloth out of its package. In my hand, it was unremarkable. A little over a foot long, it had the plush softness of a teddy bear with a short, fuzzy texture on one side and a longer, fuzzier texture on the other. It was also really aggressively pink. It was being pink at me (for those who don't go for the Barbie vibe, the cloth also comes in light blue, red, and black). "I'm about to wash my face with a Muppet," I said to myself, this time not in a Carrie Bradshaw voice.
The instructions are almost disconcertingly simple: You're supposed machine-wash the cloth before the first use, then completely soak it in warm water and rub the short side over your face in a circular motion until your makeup disappears (the long side is meant for exfoliation). Ta-da! No cleanser, no toner, no 286-step Korean cleansing plan. Could it really be that easy?
Being an impatient person (and also an apartment dweller in New York City, where laundry comes at a premium) I decided to forgo the first step (yes, there are only three steps, and I ignored one — I color outside the lines) of machine-washing and instead spent a few minutes thoroughly hand-washing the cloth. In retrospect, I realize this was a mistake, because thorough as I was, I still found myself pulling little bits of fuzz off of my face in the end. Lesson learned: Wash with a Muppet; do not become one.