My box of forgotten beauty.

I often catch myself looking for that very scent, familiar from childhood, in modern stores. But it is not there. Because it lives only in memory - in the smell of mother's powder, in the sweetish trail of mother's perfume, in the tart aroma of the first mascara.

First beauty lessons

My cosmetic initiation began with a small, clear jar of lip gloss. Not the kind you buy in tubes these days, but homemade — melted candle wax mixed with Vaseline and a drop of food coloring. It stuck to my lips, left marks on everything, but I thought I looked like a princess.

And then there was perfume – not mine, my mother’s. I would secretly spray it on my wrists before school. “Chypre” – cold, woody, with a slight bitterness. It wore off by the third period, but for the first couple of hours I felt grown-up and mysterious.

Rituals instead of routine

Now I have ten types of cleansers on my shelf. But then there was just one - pink soap in the shape of a shell. It quickly got soggy, became slippery, but smelled so good that even now, with my eyes closed, I can feel this aroma - gentle, with a light note of pharmacy sterility.

The evening ritual was special:

Washing with the same soap
A thin layer of Alyonka cream
Combing hair with an old comb.

No multi-step treatments - just three steps, after which the skin really did become softer.

Cosmetics as a treasure

I remember my first lipstick - pale pink, in a plastic case. I kept it like a treasure, applied it only on special occasions, and when it ran out, I carried the empty tube in my purse for another month - it was a shame to part with it.

And the mascara... A real test! It was constantly lumping, but I was proud of these imperfect lashes. After all, these were MY lashes, almost like an adult's.

Beauty without instructions

We didn't know about the pH balance and didn't look for hyaluronic acid in the composition. But we knew that:

Chamomile tea softens the skin
Kefir mask refreshes the face
Castor oil makes eyelashes thicker

And it worked. Not right away, not as effectively as modern means, but it worked.

What remains in memory

Sometimes I think that real beauty remains there - in those simple jars, in homemade recipes, in rituals that were passed down from generation to generation.

Now I can buy any product, but none of them smell like those children's ones. Because their aroma is a mixture of not only ingredients, but also moments of life - the first date, graduation, mother's hands carefully applying cream.