There's something comforting, and oh so divinly ritualistic about beauty secrets that have been passed from generation to generation. Some of the strongest and most fond memories of my mother are how she would take time look after her skin and body.
Growing up, my mother had a love affair with all things white and cream. I was always encouraging her to bring more colour into our home, whether it be in her wardrobe, a piece of furniture or accessory.
As a child, I'd spend hours at a tiny step by the side of our home making potions - mixing together dirt, seeds, flowers, and rocks. I was happiest submerging my hands in my soft cool muddy concoctions and believing my potions were healing salves and elixirs.