A Matter of Texture: The Feel of Skincare | Priestess

A little cream pressed between finger and thumb can decide the fate of a jar. Its softness may be agreeable at first, until we find ourselves rubbing our palms together to get rid of what remains. Another seems to disappear almost as soon as it is spread. Most of the promises on the carton have yet to be tested. We already have a fairly definite opinion about whether we want to use it again.

For sensations so familiar, we have a surprisingly small vocabulary. We borrow from the wardrobe: a serum becomes silky, a cream velvety. The slip of a satin lining across the wrist gives us a ready reference for a formula’s glide. ‘Rich’ is more accommodating still. It describes consistency while suggesting nourishment, and perhaps expense. That is quite a burden for one adjective to carry. The associations are part of the pleasure, though they can encourage us to expect rather more than the fingers have established.

In August, a study in the International Journal of Cosmetic Science examined 32 creams with the help of 50 volunteers. Variations in the blends of emollients produced differences that the participants could distinguish in appearance and in the feel left on the skin. The substances that help a cream spread and settle may receive little attention on the front of a carton, but we encounter their contribution whenever we use it.

A pleasant finish can make us more willing to use a formula. Claims about lasting hydration or the appearance of fine lines still need evidence of their own; the fingers cannot settle those questions. What we can judge for ourselves is whether we enjoy wearing it. We may want barely a trace before dressing, then something more substantial on the skin in the evening. Such preferences are ordinary enough, and worth taking seriously in something we apply so often.