Every once in a while you come across a product that seems almost too perfect—where, spookily, the inventors seem to have invaded your head and created the exact thing you always wanted to make but never had the entrepreneurial drive to think up yourself.

1) This Blue Lotus Wild Grass candle is made by Joya—which, to my mind, is the best, coolest, chicest, New York-iest organic soy wax candle company ever; go into any sleek home-design boutique in the Lower East Side or Brooklyn, and chances are a Joya candle is burning next to the register. Check out the website. 2) The candle's matte black, dodecahedron-y container is slipcast in porcelain by ceramicist/artist/plate designer Sarah Cihat, who's kind of a New York genius in her own right (I'm personally fond of her "rehabilitated dishware"). After the candle's done (after 75 hours), you can repurpose the container as a squat little vase for flowers—or as a serving bowl for almonds, or pistachios, or wasabi peas.
3) The candle has an octopus embossed on it.
4) An OCTOPUS.
5) The scent is remarkably like the Gap's wonderful, long-ago-discontinued Grass perfume; though the ghost of my 15 year-old self hates to admit it, this version is actually ... even better. Do other people re-purpose their candle containers?

—Cristina Mueller, senior beauty editor

I am in fervent support of the new natural standards that a group of beauty companies agreed to last week. It is a relief to have a logo that means NO: parabens, phthalates, glycols, or anything else with potential suspected human health risks, instead of trying to decipher tiny and often inscrutable labels. ("Fragrance" listed as an ingredient can, for example, mean "with added phthalates.")

To those who argue that some of these ingredients may in fact prove to be safe, I say, while the subject is under debate, I'll wait it out and not use them. Call me crazy—but by all means, let us know what you think!

The label also means that 95% of the product—and the majority of the products in any company's line—comes from natural, sustainable sources. The logo will start appearing on products right away; the website, www.naturalproductsassoc.org, has a list of participating companies (Burt's Bees, Weleda, Aubrey Organics, California Baby, W.S. Badger, Farmaesthetics, and Trilogy, to name a few), along with more details about what the certification means.

—Jean Godfrey-June, beauty director

Charity: Water gives 100 percent—I repeat, 100 percent—of the money it raises to build wells in third-world countries. It is a truly genius organization. Given that approximately 1 billion people worldwide don't have clean drinking water and that contaminated water causes 80 percent of all sickness on the planet ...

Go to the Saks Fifth Avenue website and buy a $20 e-card for your mom; the $20 will provide clean water for one person for 20 years!

—Jean Godfrey-June, beauty director

FROM: Meredith Kahn Rollins, executive editor
TO: Jean Godfrey-June, beauty director
SUBJECT: Aquaphor

The other night, I was feeling particularly crowfoot-y and dry around the eye area—just really ancient in general—so I slathered Aquaphor around my eyes before I went to sleep. I figured it might be the same thing as coating your feet in Vaseline and putting on socks for the night, right? And indeed, I woke up with NO CROW'S FEET. They came back a couple days later, granted, but now I have a new before-the-photo-shoot trick. (Also: I had feared the Aquaphor would migrate down to my cheeks and break me out, but it didn't. Which was nice.)

I've lived in a lot of New York City studio apartments; all have featured ugly, depressing bathrooms: dingy white, psych ward–y, and too small for standard-size bath mats, with lighting that makes everyone look like Charles Manson.

I counter such bleakness with chic, attractively packaged hand soap. The splurge is definitely cheaper than a better apartment, and it shows everyone your values are in the right place. Plus, when I finish a bottle, I move it to the kitchen sink and fill the dispenser with dish soap—it is probably the only crafty, domestic thing I do, but it's very satisfying.

—Cat Marnell, beauty assistant

A few gorgeous soaps to consider:

Hermès Eau d'Orange Verte Hand and Body Wash, $50, hermes.com

Claus Porto Voga Liquid Soap, $19, lafcony.com

La Compagnie de Provence Savon de Marseilles Extra Pur Figue, $20, apothia.com

L'Amande Liquid Soap, $12.99, amazon.com

... and I am fascinated. Because they look weirdly awesome: Not as clobber-you-bright as Pepto-Bismol, not as stark as a marshmallow white—just neat and clean and chalky-pink and totally opaque. I'm buying the polish today, after work. So I can look like a fashion news editor.

—Cristina Mueller, senior beauty editor

*As we went over the calamine lotion-ness of her nails, it hit us: Why doesn't someone make a perfume that smells like Calamine lotion? Unless I'm completely remembering it wrong, it's sweet and powdery and kind of good, and is associated with all sorts of positive, summer camp–ish memories. I mean, there are already perfumes that smell like sushi, cigarettes, and seashells ...

Order a bar of the creamy, powdery-sweet Believe Honey Bar from Noodle & Boo, and the proceeds directly help clean the water of the village of Heeraraa in Ethiopia.

—Dawn Spinner, associate beauty editor

While the rage for tanning towels (see page 104 of our current issue) continues unabated in our office, I used them the evening before a big event, and I awoke untanned. The dress I planned to wear was a dove gray that needed skin drastically darker or paler than mine to set it off; I needed a tan.

I have a very thin margin of time in the morning; there was time for further tanning, or there was time for a shower. I got out my Lancôme Flash Bronzer Airbrush (it is almost as good as Lancôme Flash Bronzer for Legs, my all-time favorite, and it is much faster) and went to town.

If you can't shower—say you live in the suburbs and dress for your black-tie events crouching between your computer and your desk—the next best thing is a pack of Sephora wipes, which also do a remarkably good job of erasing self-tanning streaks. To that, you add: perfume. I went for Christian Celle Calypso Mimosa. And body cream: White Jasmin and Mint from Jo Malone. To your nails—if they are still showing signs of having planted two apple trees before sampling the tanning towels—you dab on Stick With Me , a milky pink polish from Nicole by OPI (it comes in a pen called Nic's Sticks and dries in seconds). False lashes from Sonia Kashuk, Bourjois liquid liner, Cover Girl Lash Blast mascara, Bobbi Brown face oil, Laura Mercier concealer, and hot pink MAC lip balm. Hope that your untouched hair looks messy-on-purpose, rather than simply unwashed.

Would this cascade of panic have occurred if I'd chosen a dress that complemented my actual skin tone? Am I the only crazy person that fantasizes about glamorous evenings, and then deglamorizes them by leaving all preparation to the last minute?

—Jean Godfrey-June, beauty director

Yesterday morning, all of a sudden, we were going to the beach. With my husband already waiting in the car, I threw caution to the wind and sprayed self-tanner from head to foot. I remembered the way my feet, elbows, and knees tend to come out over-tanned in dry spots, and I quickly rubbed body oil over any suspect areas. When I say the color came out PERFECTLY blended—not a streak, not a spot—I mean, perfect enough to look unstreaked and unblotchy at the beach, in broad daylight, all day long.

—Jennifer Scruby, contributing editor, Miami

Buy two bottles of Herbal Essences shampoo and/or conditioner, mail in the UPC codes, and get a voucher for a free manicure or pedicure. There are tons of participating salons all over the country—just check the website for all the details. The offer lasts until the end of the year but the sundress-and-sandal moment is happening now.

—Dawn Spinner, associate beauty editor