A good dry shampoo is apparently hard to find. I did not know this for some time because the first one I ever stumbled upon was Amika’s ($25) and it is the holy fucking grail of haircare products, but sweet 20-year-old me had NO clue. She just bought it because the bottle was cool. And it had good reviews. But mostly the bottle. I judge every book by it’s cover and I don’t care who knows.
It was only once my suitemates at the time kept stealing it every Tuesday/ Thursday/ Friday/ Saturday (college amirite) that I realized this was not a regular dry shampoo. Fast forward to last weekend when I was traveling with said suitemates—more than one still uses it! Only this time they buy their own bottles so mine last a lot longer. That is a true (and beautiful) story of my early days as an influencer. You always remember your first!!
It’s kinda hard to describe how a dry shampoo works (mostly because it just does) but I will attempt to for the sake of you all, dear readers. I generally use it when I’m being lazy as shit and not washing my hair even though I really should (think post-workout, post-oversleeping, pre-social event I probably shouldn’t be any later than I already will be for). Dry any wet (sweaty) hair with a blowdryer, spray the dry shamp on your roots, and juuj (a highly technical term). Boom. That’s it. Your hair goes from looking limp and kinda gross to permissible in the workplace! Just call me Jen Atkin. (I will truly never get tired of talking about my obsession with Jen Atkin.)
Amika makes sweet lil travel sizes for when you’re terrified that TSA will confiscate your shit and/or don’t believe my recs and want to try before you commit to the big guy.
AND, speaking of traveling, I have a fan favorite rec that the OG shitters/suitemates swear has #changed them—packing cubes ($27/five cubes). They (the cubes, not the suitemates) apparently work EXTRAORDINARILY well for compressing your shit, keeping your bags organized, and making your life easier—three things I have never quite nailed while traveling, but perhaps now I shall! They are supposedly the greatest thing to ever happen to humans with upcoming long trips/moves, so if any of that is in the cards for you, give ‘em a whirl and lmk what you think. I’ll pass along the thanks to Rae and Dana for you.
OK. That’s all for the “rec” portion of this letter, but of course I still have the lengthy rambling portion, don’t you worry! I’m not sure that you pet owners really look at your dog/cat/ferret/whatever as “shit you bought and liked,” per say, BUT I mean, technically they are, right? I recently told my mom that I need to have a dog before I turn 30 or else I will have failed at life and will die. She (approx two glasses of Malbec deep), turned to me and screeched “A DOG?! WHAT ABOUT A HUSBAND?????” which pretty much killed the convo, but yea. I want a dog. Or a cat. I actually think a cat is way more doable for me and my ~lifestyle~ (unwilling to not spend all discretionary income on myself/ActBlue donations and has a full-time job).
But the point of this is to ask if any of you shitters got a pet in your mid 20’s? Alone, I might add—I am the sole breadwinner here (except for my roommate Alex who also brings home bread, but will not be roped into this shenanigan). How do you make it work? What did you wish you knew? TELL ME EVERYTHING so I can make my dream of having a sweet kitty named Liz Warren or a lil wiener dog named ***** come true (couldn’t risk sharing my baby name because if any of you stole it I would have to slit your throat).
In an effort to do some information gathering (and not end this newsletter in a death threat), your thoughts on this matter would be v appreciated. Ty.