‘A face cream like Greek yoghurt gave me bright, bouncy skin’

Marian Keyers and her Sudden Wild Enthusiams. This week: Korres

Korres: “Every time the post-holiday horror does yet another fly-by, I grab my little black jar, inhale deeply and am transported back to happiness.”             

Korres: “Every time the post-holiday horror does yet another fly-by, I grab my little black jar, inhale deeply and am transported back to happiness.”             

 

As I write, I’m just back from my summer holidays in Paros, Greece and I’m sunk deep in the traditional homecoming depression.

After a week on the doss, surrounded by turquoise seas, rough-walled, white cube-houses, bright blue window shutters and triumphant yellow light, lolling around reading and eating ice cream, returning to reality was always going to be bruising. That’s before I’ve even started on unpacking, which is never a pleasant job and it’s even more unpleasant when you’re me and you’ve bought up half the handicrafts from wherever you’ve been.  

I’m an enthusiastic shopper at the best of times and never more so than when I’m out foreign and keen to prolong my holiday experience by bringing home local goods. But I’ve learned the hard way that most things do not travel.

Some years back, I had to be weaned off buying tablecloths embroidered by local women. (I never use tablecloths.)

Jewellery, there was another one. Dazzled by market stalls boasting adorable little creations at rock-bottom prices, I’d buy countless delightful silver bangles and earrings. But by the time my plane entered Irish airspace, my wrists would be green and my earlobes would be throbbing red and hot with infection.

Foodstuffs, too, I often ferry them home without the first clue what to do with them. There was that time I bought four – four! bottles of pomegranate molasses home from Istanbul. Eleven years later, they’re gathering dust in the press, still unopened.

My worst excesses have always been locally crafted bags – crossbodies, totes, rucksacks. Usually made from some honest, rough-hewn fabric and embroidered with charming irregularity. At the time of purchase I am always enchanted by their authentic appeal. But once I see them in the more unforgiving light of Ireland I wonder if I’d had a brief psychotic episode, perhaps brought about by my malaria medication.

This year though, could well be different! The house I was staying in had samples of skin care from Korres, a Greek brand. They turned out to be lovely, so I went off to the local chemist (always a highlight of any holiday) to find out more.

Korres was started in Naxos (the next island along from Paros) in 1996 and is an almost entirely natural brand, using island plants, such as black pine, rose petals and pomegranates.

Even though I have no problem with using chemicals on my face, I was in the humour for something local. I could literally see pine trees from my bedroom window so, in that spirit, I got myself the 3D Black Pine Nightcream.  

And it is divine! It’s as thick as full-fat Greek yoghurt and every morning I woke up to bright, bouncy skin.

The smell might not be for everyone. It’s strong – very piney, fresh and foresty. But frankly, it’s saving my life. Every time the post-holiday horror does yet another fly-by, I grab my little black jar, inhale deeply and am transported back to happiness.             

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