Dr Jart+ Cicapair Tiger Grass Cream

Screen Shot 2019-06-19 at 10.05.05.png

I’ve recently discovered that, despite being attached, the skin on my neck and face are completely different. 

The products I trumpet on about regularly have served to improve the texture of my face so much than on a visit yesterday to Skin Laundry to investigate LED facials, I was basically told to go home as I didn’t need it. My acidy, vitamin infused daily skincare cocktail has made me a big smooth (smug) plump-face. 

But those selfsame products, when it comes to my neck, cause my skin to wither, crust and redden, like a dragon’s hide. I have become Batman’s nemesis Two Face, but the vertical version.

What am I to do? Ignore the area, and allow myself to prematurely age from the jawline down? Presumably that would produce a startling image, akin to an egg balanced on top of a crumpled tea towel. Do I resign myself to wearing turtlenecks forever, like a teenager hiding hickeys from her parents? (I never did this, I should add. I never saw the point of hickeys. Which worked out great as no one ever wanted to give me one). 

No. I had to find something brilliant to moisturise this area, keeping it frozen in time like the rest of me. 

And find it I have.

Dr Jart+’s Cicapair range is cult over in the US, and for good reason. It says something about the madness of the beauty industry that I never even questioned what Tiger Grass could possibly be before I was slathering it on, but obviously I came to my senses later. Turns out Tiger Grass is actually a Chinese herb called centella asiatica, and that it got the nickname when people in China noticed Tigers would roll around in it to heal their wounds. HOW LOVELY!

Back to business. The creams of the Cicapair range are thick, reassuring medicinal and are really, really good. When I squiggled out the Tiger Grass cream for the first time it was so thick it needed a bit of force, like a slightly wetter Sudocrem in a metal tube. In fact, this product is pretty Sudocrem-like in general. ‘So why not just buy Sudacrem Rebecca?’ you rightly ask. Well the thing about Sudocrem though is it’s very much a ‘battle stations’ product, one for the worst case scenario. To dip your whole arm in when, say, you’ve quite badly burnt it reaching in to the back of the oven for a baguette while pissed (I still have the scar). The thing about Sudocrem as well is it’s so hard to gauge; scoop out the smallest amount for an insect bite  on your wrist and before you know it you’ve been rubbing it in for 45 minutes and it’s somehow reached the soles of your feet. AND ANOTHER THING about Sudocrem - despite it being technically a liquid, how come I think of it as so dry and cement like

This Tiger Grass cream is absorbed quickly, is a lovely texture befitting it’s liquid state and my dry-dragon’s-hide neck feels nourished and moistened. It just puts it in sync with the rest of my face, and evens the whole surface out.

All joking aside, I would really recommend this product. There’s a snag insomuch as it’s not what you might call ‘readily available’ - it still hasn’t made a proper transition from the US. But google will come up with the goods. ASOS, for example, which is weird but hey next day delivery and all that. It means that you’re not going to be able to try it for yourself, rather trust me and my words. But it’s a gentle formula that will soothe most if not all skin types. It truly helped me, and it also means that I can apply SPF over it and feel properly protected.

*throws off turtleneck & dances away, taking the rest of her clothes off in to the distance*

Dr Jart+ Cicapair Tiger Grass Cream, £36

asos.com

Rebecca Humphries