Your Skin Was Never the Problem
This morning I woke to frost. A sheen of ice sprinkled on everything and sparkling in the sun. It’s the middle of winter here in Canberra and the mornings have a stillness I love. The light arrives slowly, and the air feels like a rush of cold water on my face. The winter months feel slower. There’s less rushing and chaos, and more noticing. Bliss!
Lately, I've been thinking about the way we look at ourselves.
Not in a philosophical sense, but in the very ordinary way we see our reflection in the bathroom mirror each morning. It's such a familiar moment that we hardly notice it happening anymore. We brush our hair, (full disclosure I often don’t), splash our face (mmm maybe), and pop skincare on (most of the time). Somewhere in those quiet minutes we really see ourselves, and sometimes the first thing we do is search for what's changed.
A line that wasn't there before. Skin that looks a little more tired. A softness around the jaw that wasn't there ten years ago. In truth, I haven’t done this for a few years now, I just look at my skin as a health check, but I used to, and it's almost automatic. We don't stand there thinking, ‘There I am.’ We stand there wondering what needs fixing.
When I was younger, I thought healthy skin meant youthful skin. I don't think anyone ever sat me down and told me that, but like everyone else I absorbed the message anyway because it was everywhere. Every ad promised younger-looking skin. Every magazine celebrated women who appeared untouched by time, although touched up with Photoshop and tonnes of makeup. Every new product claimed to erase, reverse or correct something. After enough years of hearing those messages, it's not surprising that many of us began to believe our own skin had become a problem to solve. And my bathroom shelf told the story of exactly this.
The funny thing is, that isn't how I grew up.
My earliest memories of skincare weren't about chasing perfection. They were about care. My mother would make simple preparations because that was what she knew, and because it made sense. My grandmother reached for chamomile and olive oil long before anyone called them hero ingredients. There wasn't a shelf lined with dozens of products or an endless search for the next miracle. Skin was simply looked after in much the same way as the garden was watered or bread was baked. It was part of life, not a battle against it.
I don't remember the women in my family talking about looking younger. They certainly wanted to look after themselves, but there was a quiet acceptance that faces change because lives change. And now, looking back with my 61-year-old eyes, I think we've lost that wisdom.
In Ancient Greek there are two beautiful words that have always fascinated me: γῆρας, meaning old age, and γέρας, meaning honour, privilege or a prize. They aren't the same word, but I've always loved the way they echo one another because, in ancient Greece, old age itself was something to be honoured. So much so that the ruling council of elders in ancient Sparta was called Gerousia, which literally means a council of old men and it was a badge of the highest political honour. How amazing is that? (Except for the no women part). I remember my mum jokingly using the word when we walked down streets in Greece and we would see groups of older men and women chatting, what we would probably call ‘just chilling’. ‘The Gerousia’, she would say, nudging me. Wrinkles, chin hairs, white buns all in abundance. No skin serums in sight. And no one else cared.
Somewhere along the way, the conversation shifted from caring for our skin to correcting it. The beauty industry has convinced us that every natural change deserves a solution. We are encouraged to analyse ourselves under bright lights, magnifying mirrors and phone cameras until we begin noticing things that no one else would ever see.
It's exhausting and a little sad.
Because when I think about my own face now, at 61, I don't just see lines. I see years that have been full. I see long Australian summers spent outdoors, laughter with family, tears that broke my heart, worries that kept me awake, holidays in Greece, lying on countless beaches, cradling sick babies, ordinary afternoons in the garden, and all the little moments that make up a life. None of those experiences left me exactly as I was, and why should they have?
Our skin has been with us through every one of those moments. It protected us, healed when we cut ourselves, carried freckles from summers gone by, held the feel of a lover’s touch, stretched to carry babies and quietly adapted as the seasons of our lives changed and continue to change. When you think about it like that, it seems rather unfair that the first thing we do is criticise it.
These days, my idea of healthy skin is much simpler than it used to be.
I don't spend my time hoping my skin looks thirty again because it isn't thirty, and neither am I. What I want is skin that feels comfortable. Skin that isn't dry or tight by the end of the day. Skin that feels nourished when I touch it. Skin that allows me to forget about it altogether because it's quietly doing what it's meant to do.
That might sound like a small thing, but I think it's actually quite profound. Well, it was for me. There's a certain freedom in no longer chasing perfection and not caring what others think about it either.
It's one of the reasons I make skincare the way I do. Small batches. Beautiful botanical oils and butters. Formulas that don't ask you to follow ten complicated steps or fill your bathroom cabinet with things you don't really need. Not because I believe one balm is going to change your life, but because I believe there’s something deeply satisfying about simplicity. (And I’m also a bit lazy!)
A few minutes in the evening. Warm hands. A nourishing balm. A gentle massage across your face before bed. Just some care, consistency and a little attention. And sometimes I’m too tired to do that, and that’s okay too. None of us is perfect and as I've grown older, I've realised that kindness is a much better companion than criticism.
Perhaps that's what we've been searching for all along. Not younger skin, but a gentler relationship with the skin we already have.
Tomorrow morning, when you see your reflection, instead of asking, "What's changed?" maybe ask, "What has this face carried me through?"
Until next time, Sonia Karouzos
Founder, Wild Goddess Botanicals
If this reflection made you think of someone, I'd love you to share it with them.
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If today's reflection resonated with you, you might enjoy exploring the small-batch botanical rituals we make here at Wild Goddess Botanicals.