Gloss and Ritual. XO, Gabrela

Gloss and Ritual— the long-contemplated product of hours spent combing both beauty blogs and drugstore aisles for the most revered and effective cosmetics, skincare, and new additions to my growing wellness practice— is now available for your reference. Bone apple tea.

Born in The Bronx, the youngest daughter of West Indian immigrants, I know gloss well. Some of my fondest memories are of tagging along on for my mother’s beauty appointments. Exercising our imaginations during her bi-weekly trips to the nail salon for silk wraps and lacquered topcoats, my sister and I would choose our favorite colors from the array spanning the wall. “When I’m older, I’ll wear THIS,” I’d exclaim, often choosing a vivid pink or juicy orange. The deeper shades of purple or nudes never interested my innocent mind. I didn’t yet know the power an intentionally-selected and seasonally-apt tone of red could hold. All I cared about was pink. And bright. And gross, I swore to never wear blue. Look at me now.

As deeply connected as I am to gloss, I am indebted to ritual. My grandmother’s quarterly brew of bitters, equally resented and respected by children and adults alike, was the slimy, gag-inducing stuff of nightmares. The menu? Aloe pulp and cerassee tea, always with orange slices to chase the acrid memory away. Any other time, my grandmother was Hestia. She’d bless her family and friends with treats and meals that would inspire any recipient’s hajj to the Demerara’s banks. Periodically, however, she’d demand a sacrifice.

Ok, “demand” may be a strong word. “If you like sweet,” she’d say, “you must learn to take bitter.” She instilled the concept of balance, and as a Libra, I respect her for that. And I still think about her when, quarterly, I count myself down to taking my aloe pulp and cerassee tea like a good girl. If I can drink reposado, I can drink my cerassee. And I don’t chase either one.