French women swear by these little-known, ultra-effective anti-aging products
In the mid-2000s, when I was a magazine editor, most every publication I worked for wrote stories on the "French girl" look. Our readers couldn't get enough about how Gallic girls put themselves together — everything from scarf tying to eyeliner techniques. But the most popular topic was French skin care and the "secret" finds that make French faces look youthful and chic. In America, women often focus on covering their flaws with makeup, but French women have a skin-first philosophy. They wear less makeup and focus on their skin, spending on quality serums and creams from trusted pharmacy brands.Over the years, I've become familiar with many of these stellar French pharmacy products. I have Embryolisse Lait Creme Concentre and Avène Recovery Cream in heavy rotation (and you should too!). But I was curious about the French pharmacy skin care I had yet to discover — lesser-known finds my 52-year-old skin could certainly use. I spent a week scrolling Reddit threads, noting recommendations from French women and studying reviews. Et voila: Here are some affordable, face-saving French skin-care products that you can pick up stateside.
If you have Amazon Prime, you'll get free shipping, of course. Not yet a member? No problem. You can sign up for your free 30-day trial here. (And by the way, those without Prime still get free shipping on orders of $35 or more.)
The reviews quoted above reflect the most recent versions at the time of publication.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Refinery29
an hour ago
- Refinery29
Everyone's Asking For The 'Vanilla French' Manicure Right Now
There's seemingly no limit to the number of nail trends to choose from at any given moment. This spring alone, we spied angel chrome nails, obsessed over the beach manicure and were swayed by barely there nail tints. If TikTok is anything to go by, though, nothing beats the French manicure for summer. With millions of views, the hashtag #Frenchmanicure serves up countless creative takes on the wearable classic. There's the trending " faded French," where the crisp white tips blend into a nude base for an ombré effect, not to mention the " glow French", which features a jelly-like base and a contrasting opaque white tip. But if you ask manicurists, one particular spin on the iconic nail look is on the tip of everyone's tongue at the moment. Enter: the "vanilla French" manicure. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Sarah (@heluviee) What is the vanilla French manicure? Editorial manicurist Ami Streets explains that the vanilla French manicure is a contemporary take on the '90s and early '00s classic we all know and love, but with a few simple updates. The base, rather than being an opaque baby pink or peach shade, is translucent, much like this look by manicurist Megan Rose. "[This] manicure enlists a sheer shade that will enhance your natural nails while camouflaging any imperfections," says Streets. "As a result, nails simply look perfectly groomed." On TikTok and Instagram, some manicurists are even using the vanilla French manicure and the"modern French" manicure interchangeably. (The word "vanilla" refers to the soft cream colour of the tip of the nail.) View this post on Instagram A post shared by Megan Rose (@ The shape is key, too. "[This] manicure substitutes the classic square shape for a softer, more subtle, rounded or almond nail shape, and the French tip is delicate and slim as opposed to wide and more defined," explains Streets. "This looks a little more understated and sophisticated, especially if painted in more muted shades of cream rather than the typical bright white tip. It gives the illusion of being your nails — but better." Take inspiration from digital creator Sarah on Instagram. Aside from the more rounded, elongated shape, the key point of difference is in the shades used. For the base, manicurists are ditching solid colours for translucent pink, nude, or even clear to enhance the natural nail, depending on personal preference. The ivory tip imitates the tip of a natural nail, which is never stark white, so the final result is a lot more believable. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Chels Lou (@chelslounails) How do you achieve a vanilla French manicure? For best results, especially if you're choosing gel, Builder in a Bottle (BIAB), or acrylic extensions, visit a qualified manicurist. "Ask your nail technician for a rounded or almond shape," says Streets. Your chosen nail professional will help you decide which will look best, depending on the length of your nails. Streets suggests a rounded or square-oval shape for short nails (look to this shape by Nicole McMillan on Instagram) and an almond shape for longer nails. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Charlotte Knight (@nailchark) Streets suggests choosing a base shade that's suitable for your skin tone, but if in doubt, opt for a clear polish. She adds that the finishing touch is a slim French tip in an off-white shade, like this look by nail artist Charlotte Knight. If you'd rather give the French tip a go yourself, there are plenty of tutorials on TikTok. Some manicure enthusiasts are pressing each nail into the soft pad of their finger coated in polish to achieve the slim tip, while others are investing in a silicone stamper, which is essentially a gel cushion (a lot less messy than the former). View this post on Instagram A post shared by Nicole McMillan (@cocodoesnails) How long does the vanilla French manicure last? A manicure like this should typically last for around two to three weeks, which is good news for the low-maintenance among us. The sheer base colour typical of the vanilla French" manicure means that as nails get longer, any evidence of growth around the cuticle area isn't particularly noticeable. Opting for gel polish or BIAB will boost the longevity of a manicure like this, but if you prefer regular polish, consider investing in a gel-effect top coat to prevent chipping and lend a glossy, professional-looking finish.
Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
My father's death showed me how hard it is for men to open up. I started a men's walking group to help us connect.
Jonathan Jacobs, 35, moved to Los Angeles from New York during the pandemic. He wanted more local friends in the sprawling city. He started a men's walking group to build his community and help other men meet each other. This as-told-to story is based on a conversation with Jonathan Jacobs, a marketer, writer, and community organizer who founded the LA chapter of Men Walking, Men Talking. The following has been edited for length and clarity. I moved from New York City to Los Angeles in the middle of the pandemic — not exactly the best time to make friends. It took me a year to make lasting connections with people, and four years to slowly build my social circle through my running club, professional industry, and friends of friends. Still, I wanted a greater sense of local community, especially with other men. In the summer of 2020, right before I moved to LA, my father passed away. On his deathbed, I learned he was an alcoholic — a secret he'd kept from me for 31 years. Because he was in a coma for two weeks before he died, I was never able to confront him about it. The experience made me realize how few, if any, intimate relationships he must have had. It also made me passionate about creating spaces where men could be more open with each other. Through my work, I met Mark Greene, who founded Men Walking, Men Talking, an NYC-based men's walking group. He suggested I lead my own. So, in 2025, I started the LA chapter. In January, I posted a short description on an LA-based Reddit page describing how I envisioned the group. The rules were simple: what was said in the group would be private, and we wouldn't talk about politics or religion so as not to isolate anyone. I added my email. About 60 men said they were interested. Seven of us showed up that first time. It was a bit awkward at first. I grappled with the idea of icebreakers to get through that initial silence. But I wanted men to explore why it was hard to be the first one to speak up. Slowly, we started to chat, letting our craving for connection lead the way. As we've done more of our bi-monthly Sunday walks, the group has grown. Over 100 men have reached out to me, with up to 17 showing up at one time. Due to the demand, we've also started experimenting with "pop-up walks" in the middle of the week. We're a mix of married and divorced men, single fathers and childfree husbands, in our 20s through our 60s. Half of the group is made up of men who keep coming back. Research shows that men prefer activities where they're side-by-side rather than facing each other. At the same time, some activities can make it harder to have meaningful conversations because the focus is on playing a game or watching a movie. Walking invited men to talk to each other, while also making the gathering as low-stakes and accessible as possible. This is especially crucial in LA: you can spend the night sitting in traffic and searching for parking, all for a hangout they're not sure will be fun. For men who are already on the fence about showing up, a long commute pretty much guarantees they won't come. Men who come to the walks repeatedly tell me that the low barrier to entry — no need to sign up or pay a fee to join — makes it easier for them to commit. For men who have trouble putting themselves out there to begin with, it gives them peace of mind that they don't have to stay the whole time or show up every week to feel like part of the group. One man recently showed up and was walking by himself. I came over to him and started breaking him open — he had some bad friendship experiences in the past and was trepidatious about making new connections. I'm glad he could come to the walk, even if it may have made him nervous at first. Throughout my dad's life, really negative manifestations of masculinity, like not asking for help, affected our relationship. What's nice about the group is how quickly such a simple activity can morph into a meaningful bond, especially amid so many stories of male loneliness in the US. I still remember our second walk ever, right after my girlfriend had a health scare. Opening up to other men wasn't just cathartic; I also learned some had gone through similar situations. I've seen men break off after our hour-long walk to continue walking or to grab a beer somewhere. Sometimes, if only one other man shows up that day, he and I will just walk together, two strangers opening up to each other. I still talk to men who are interested but wary about attending their first walk; they're not sure if they'd fit in. More than anything, I wish every man who feels that way would know he's not alone. There's a group who'd love to talk to him. He just has to show up. Read the original article on Business Insider
Business Insider
2 hours ago
- Business Insider
My father's death showed me how hard it is for men to open up. I started a men's walking group to help us connect.
Jonathan Jacobs, 35, moved to Los Angeles from New York during the pandemic. He wanted more local friends in the sprawling city. He started a men's walking group to build his community and help other men meet each other. This as-told-to story is based on a conversation with Jonathan Jacobs, a marketer, writer, and community organizer who founded the LA chapter of Men Walking, Men Talking. The following has been edited for length and clarity. I moved from New York City to Los Angeles in the middle of the pandemic — not exactly the best time to make friends. It took me a year to make lasting connections with people, and four years to slowly build my social circle through my running club, professional industry, and friends of friends. Still, I wanted a greater sense of local community, especially with other men. In the summer of 2020, right before I moved to LA, my father passed away. On his deathbed, I learned he was an alcoholic — a secret he'd kept from me for 31 years. Because he was in a coma for two weeks before he died, I was never able to confront him about it. The experience made me realize how few, if any, intimate relationships he must have had. It also made me passionate about creating spaces where men could be more open with each other. Through my work, I met Mark Greene, who founded Men Walking, Men Talking, an NYC-based men's walking group. He suggested I lead my own. So, in 2025, I started the LA chapter. Craving connection In January, I posted a short description on an LA-based Reddit page describing how I envisioned the group. The rules were simple: what was said in the group would be private, and we wouldn't talk about politics or religion so as not to isolate anyone. I added my email. About 60 men said they were interested. Seven of usshowed up that first time. It was a bit awkward at first. I grappled with the idea of icebreakers to get through that initial silence. But I wanted men to explore why it was hard to be the first one to speak up. Slowly, we started to chat, letting our craving for connection lead the way. As we've done more of our bi-monthly Sunday walks, the group has grown. Over 100 men have reached out to me, with up to 17 showing up at one time. Due to the demand, we've also started experimenting with "pop-up walks" in the middle of the week. We're a mix of married and divorced men, single fathers and childfree husbands, in our 20s through our 60s. Half of the group is made up of men who keep coming back. Men need low-stakes ways to hang out Research shows that men prefer activities where they're side-by-side rather than facing each other. At the same time, some activities can make it harder to have meaningful conversations because the focus is on playing a game or watching a movie. Walking invited men to talk to each other, while also making the gathering as low-stakes and accessible as possible. This is especially crucial in LA: you can spend the night sitting in traffic and searching for parking, all for a hangout they're not sure will be fun. For men who are already on the fence about showing up, a long commute pretty much guarantees they won't come. Men who come to the walks repeatedly tell me that the low barrier to entry — no need to sign up or pay a fee to join — makes it easier for them to commit. For men who have trouble putting themselves out there to begin with, it gives them peace of mind that they don't have to stay the whole time or show up every week to feel like part of the group. One man recently showed up and was walking by himself. I came over to him and started breaking him open — he had some bad friendship experiences in the past and was trepidatious about making new connections. I'm glad he could come to the walk, even if it may have made him nervous at first. Leaning on each other in small, important ways Throughout my dad's life, really negative manifestations of masculinity, like not asking for help, affected our relationship. What's nice about the group is how quickly such a simple activity can morph into a meaningful bond, especially amid so many stories of male loneliness in the US. I still remember our second walk ever, right after my girlfriend had a health scare. Opening up to other men wasn't just cathartic; I also learned some had gone through similar situations. I've seen men break off after our hour-long walk to continue walking or to grab a beer somewhere. Sometimes, if only one other man shows up that day, he and I will just walk together, two strangers opening up to each other. I still talk to men who are interested but wary about attending their first walk; they're not sure if they'd fit in. More than anything, I wish every man who feels that way would know he's not alone. There's a group who'd love to talk to him. He just has to show up.
