Anne here. When I was a child, I was fascinated by the idea of making my own perfumes and cosmetics. I'm sure I got the idea from some book or other that it was pretty easy and straightforward. So I collected fragrant flowers and leaves planning to make perfume from them. I would stuff rose petals and other beautiful smelling flowers into a bottle, top them with cold boiled water . . . and wait.
The result was invariably a bottle of brown, slimy liquid containing clumped masses of glutinous matter that oozed ominously. Did it smell? Yes. Disgusting.
But did those many failed perfume experiments end my cosmetics-to-the-stars (well, to me) career? Not a bit of it. Next I tried for home-made lipstick. I pounded red geranium petals and rubbed the paste on my lips. They turned red all right, but the mix didn't go on evenly and even at seven or eight I knew I looked more like a clown than a glamorous lady.
Some years later my ambitions in that direction were fired again by some book, or possibly an article in a magazine, where you used everyday natural things to enhance my budding teenage beauty.
First there was the beer rinse, supposed to add lustre and body to hair. I washed my long hair, poured a small bottle of Dad's beer over it, and towel-dried it, as the instructions had said. Then I set out to walk to the station — I was catching a train into the city to meet up with friends. The walk to the station was about 45 minutes. After twenty minutes, I realized I was walking along in a miasmatic cloud and smelled like a brewery. I turned around, hurried home and scrubbed my hair with shampoo several times.
Then there was the egg shampoo. Possibly I didn't rinse the egg out of my long hair sufficiently, because after an hour or so in the sunshine, I smelled like scrambled egg. . . going slightly off. Off egg, such a charming fragrance, don't you think? I never tried an egg shampoo again.
Undaunted, I tried another one of the suggestions in the article — a vinegar rinse. It was supposed to make your hair shinier — white vinegar for blondes, brown vinegar for brunettes. I doused my hair with white vinegar. The sharp smell faded after an hour or two, but I could see no difference in the shininess.
Next I tried a rosemary rinse. I steeped some snippets of fresh rosemary in boiling water and let it cool, then poured it over my hair. It smelled lovely but I couldn't see or feel any difference in my hair. Still, the fragrance was lovely. Some days later when I went to repeat the process, I learned that rosemary steeped in boiling water and kept for a few days no longer smelled quite so delightful — it was, in fact, horrid. Shades of my early experiments with rose perfume. But freshly made rosemary — and lavender, I discovered — at least smelled nice. And if you'd like to try some yourself, there's a site here that will show you how.
I tried all kinds of things on my skin too — oatmeal packs (pretty good), egg white for tightening the skin (worked a treat for a short time) rubbing with cucumber peels (cooling and very nice.)
My experiments with home-made cosmetics died away, but proved useful when I started writing Regencies. I used rosemary in my first book, Gallant Waif, as the heroine was broke and made her own hair rinses. She also made her own kitchen soap and cold cream and other things, but this time I did some proper research — I'd collected a couple of old books of household management from the period, and they had all kinds of fascinating — and some quite horrifying — recipes.
I remember one advised the reader to clear the eyes thus: "Take the white of hens-dung, dry it very well, and beat it to a powder. Sift it and blow it into the eyes when the party goes to bed."
But no hens-dung was used in my book. I just had my heroine making cold cream. Why, you ask? In the revisions for that book, the editor had asked for more history to be included. Since my hero and heroine were in a run-down house in the middle of the countryside, there weren't many (any?) historic events to incorporate in the story, so I mainly concentrated on domestic history, as my heroine was acting as the cook/housekeeper at the time. But of course every piece of research needs to earn its place in the story, so . . .
In the book, my hero pokes his nose into the kitchen . . .
"What's this? Looks delicious."
Before Kate could say a word, Jack had scooped a fingerful of the creamy mixture and popped it into his mouth. She clapped a hand over her mouth, attempting unsuccessfully to repress her mirth. Giggles escaped her as his eyes filled first with disbelief and then with disgust. He rushed outside and she heard the sounds of vigorous spitting as he attempted to rid his mouth of the foul taste of her latest domestic effort.
. . . snip . . .
Still chuckling, Kate wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron. He re-entered the kitchen wiping his mouth, which was still puckered at the lingering after-taste.
"Are you trying to poison me?" He grimaced again and scrubbed at his mouth with his handkerchief. "What the hell was that foul stuff anyway?"
"Spermacetti oil, white wax, almond oil," she said, between chuckles. 'I haven't yet added the lemon oil and lemon juice."
He choked. "Spermacetti oil? You were planning to feed me whale oil? That's for burning in lamps!"
Kate giggled again. It was a new recipe she was trying, guaranteed to remove freckles. "I do not usually feed my cold cream to gentlemen, no matter how hungry — or greedy — they are."
"Cold cream?"
"Cold cream."
"Hrmph!" He turned away. His ears turned slightly pink.
Now, in the new book I've just started, my heroine makes her own cosmetics, but this time they're the sort that fine ladies would love to wear. No bottles of rotting vegetation here. So I'm heading down the research rabbit-hole again. Luckily there are all kinds of excellent websites showing how to make all kinds of perfumes and cosmetics, and since my heroine is an heiress and not short of a penny, obtaining expensive and exotic ingredients is not a problem. I'll probably write another cosmetic post when I get to that part of the book.
Have you ever tried your own home-made aids to beauty? What have you tried and how did it go?