I'm slick as an otter. I’m greased up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I have just left a face-shaped spot on my gingham linen pillowcase. My husband is asking me not to hug him for fear I’ll do the same to his shirt.
How did I find myself here, a human Slip ’N Slide, coated in more lotions, primers, and face oils than I knew existed? In my time writing for Vogue, I’ve tried a lot of beauty moves, both trendy and classic. But never have I taken on an assignment with such academic focus as this one: attempting to understand the growing obsession with dewy, gleaming skin.
Over the last few years, the Gen Z passion for skin that glows, glistens, and glitters has gone by many names: glazed-doughnut skin (Hailey Bieber’s raison d’être) is a little bit different from dolphin skin (which employs mermaid-ish blue micro-glitter), and should not be confused with honey skin, Jell-O skin, vampire skin, or the not-so-subtly named celeb skin. Cloud skin (dewy without being reflective) is not the same as cloudless skin (which seems simply to be a euphemism for perfect skin). Some of these trends are about sheen, some about sparkle, while others are about a natural, youthful glow meant to look like it involved no products at all. But whether you subscribe to glass skin (the K-beauty import redefining our skin-care process) or status skin (the name speaks for itself), the common denominator is clear: gone are the days of skin so matte that it resembles a coat of Farrow & Ball paint on a patio floor. Skin, once robbed of its character, has come alive again.