For years I've been intimidated by the Korean skincare line AmorePacific. At a glance, it seemed made for a very particular sort of lady—a lady with a name like Babe or Ina, whose skin doesn't need anything other than, say, a commissioned portrait, because good skin has been her lot ever since her shipping-tycoon grandfather married her swan-necked, alabaster-complexioned grandmother. Let's be honest: The line is pricey, $500-for-a-face-serum pricey. Unfairly, I never went further than occasional back-of-the-hand tests, where all my suspicions seemed to be confirmed—I mean, the smell of it! The creams smell of wealth—literally smell too good to be effective!

OK: I was wrong. I'm just going to say it again, to make sure it really sinks in: I was WRONG. A few months ago, I finally tried the Moisture Bound Vitalizing Cream, the twice-a-week powder exfoliating/scrubby peel thing—and then the $500 Time Response Renewal Serum. When I say I've never had clearer, glowier, better skin, it is a BIG understatement. Best skin ever. Seriously. I started pushing my skin to the limits (What if I only slept four hours? What if I forget to wash my face at night?)—but no, there is no derailing of the best skin ever.

... Last week, I ran out. Already there's an undeniable difference. My question to you, and I really am curious: If you know for a proven fact that a product will give you the best skin of your life, how much are you willing to pay for it?

—Cristina Mueller, senior beauty editor

I'm not sure if I'm the only person who does this, but I have these fantasies of taking a mini-sabbatical one summer from my job, my boyfriend, and even [gasp!] my cats and moving to some European city where I know no one. In this fantasy, I have nothing to do except, maybe, maybe work on the big cliché writing project in the mornings (on an old typewriter, of course) in some fabulous, light-filled flat and in the afternoons wander the streets of said city in the chicest outfits of all time.

To me, it seems indisputable that Mexican-style blouses in the summer are a very good thing. They never go out of style, they are so light and so pretty, and I have yet to see someone who doesn't look cute and fresh wearing one. I especially like this version by a company called For Joseph, which drapes ever so slightly off the shoulders and has finely detailed embroidery scattered all over the top half. I'm pretty much sold, but it comes in a few different colors, and I'm having a hard time choosing which to go for: the putty-ish one with black stitching (somehow the muted palette gives it a subtly contemporary twist) or the canary yellow one with white stitching (such an inviting combination, and feels especially summery). What do you guys think?

My sister Emily and I share the same irksome, acne-prone skin: It's 80% lovely and 20% disaster, with the latter portion solely around the chin and mouth, residing there—with the exception of four miraculous days a month—all of the time. We blame our father for our vexing inheritance: Photo evidence reveals that he spent the early '70s rocking major breakouts, Ringo-inspired hair, and questionable Izod jumpsuits.

Any dermatologist will rightly tell you that chin-and-mouth breakouts are hormonal, which long ago led me to suspect that a) my sister and I share some hideous genetic mutancy and possibly—l'horreur!— perhaps produce more testosterone than other girls, and b) my only hope is birth control pills and eventual menopause.

Well. We had dinner together last night and her skin is, for the first time in years, truly clear! WTF?! "I threw away everything in my bathroom," she explained as I glowered across the table, feeling not unlike Jessica Simpson when Ashlee got her new nose/weave/spray-tanned androgymidget husband. "I use the same five products every day and that's it. My skin cleared up in two months." Her skin-transforming regimen:

If you can get past the model's surprised/scared/skeptical expression, you'll see that the shirt she's wearing is actually pretty amazing. It starts off as a classic men's-style button-down, but then the sleeves explode at the ends with elaborate accordion-pleated ruffles. There's definitely a romantic, rococo quality to the cuffs, but when offset by the stark lines of the rest of the top, the whole thing becomes very cool and elegant. What is she so worried about?

Despite my friend Lara's many protests to the contrary ("You'll look like you're hiding something!" "It's just much too much fabric for anyone!" "They make your butt enormous!"), I really want to purchase a big, airy maxi dress and wear it with flat Grecian sandals and pretend I am walking in the South of France with 18 of Brad Pitt's children. Finding one that doesn't look like something out of the Mrs. Roper wardrobe vault (or like a print threw up on a pattern) has not been the easiest task.

When I was six, my family moved to a new house. Along with leaky ceilings and built-in cat hammocks, we inherited the previous owners' massive daily delivery of junk mail. I was delighted: I sat on the living room floor and entertained myself for hours, carefully filing newsletters and fliers into different categorized bundles.

The hotel/cruise/tourism brochures were my favorite—I decided I wanted to be a travel agent. I was particularly fascinated with Australia, especially motorcycle explorations in New South Wales, for some reason. Whenever we discussed family vacations, I begged my mom to call Freedom Wheels.

Instead, she brought home Aussie Three Minute Miracle conditioner. The kangaroo! The eucalyptus! The tropical scent! I was in love. I squeezed it into the tub like bubble bath: Soon I would be tan, blonde, and if not IN Australia, then looking as if I were.

Twenty years later, I've accepted that the laid-back surfer look is never going to work for me—except for the tousled part. Aussie created the perfect scrunch spray for blowing-in-the-breeze-on-the-back-of-a-Suzuki waves. And Miracle is still the best thing for softening dry ends ... the kind you get, say, diving the Great Barrier Reef.

—Dawn Spinner, associate beauty editor

Curious things happen to me in the summer. There are so few clothes to put on, you really want to make each piece matter; and to keep from getting bored, I often find myself picking bold-to-the-point-of-garish things just because I can.

Cynthia Rowley recently debuted a totally revamped site, and along with it, an array of clothes that feel edgier and sharper than I'd expected from the supremely sweet-and-girly designer. Like this black silk dress: Billowy long sleeves temper the leg-baring mini bottom, and slits at the arms are suggestively sexy without really revealing more skin. It's dressy but not too fancy, and I can already imagine an endless stream of ways you could wear it (major heels and mussed-up hair for a big night out, or else demure ballet flats to simmer it down). This leopard-print tunic is another favorite. While pulling off this much animal print can be tricky, the simple cut and loose fit keep the piece from looking at all tarty. Again, there's a nice balance going on between casual and pulled-together—and it could also layer up nicely for year-round use. Brilliantly, it's also reversible: Turn the piece inside out to reveal a basic black shift.

File this under things I don't think I can pull off, but really wish I could: I want a white, flowy, gauzy hippie dress for summer. One that I can wear with brown leather sandals, a pretty necklace, big sunglasses, and a soft long-strap bag. One that says to the world, "I'm young and free and sexy and may or may not be wearing a bra." I don't know that I'm quite brazen enough for this kind of look anymore (or, honestly, if I'd want to chance that much white in this super-dirty city), but if I were, I'd throw on this or this or especially this, and spend the day feeling seriously hot.