We’re not here to trivialise or to commercialise coronavirus, but it’d be remiss not to acknowledge the downside of relentless and stringent sanitation. Namely, dry, crumbling hands. That and the propensity to go absolutely completely and utterly insane because, how many times is too many times? (Until you have a repetitive strain injury.) What size of nut do I base my volume of dispensation on? (A chickpea.) How many sanitisers are equal to the value of a single gold ingot? (Six.) Is washing more effective than sanitising? (Yes! Please do watch the news.) Am I right in thinking aeons-old ‘fragranced soap’ is no more effective than a chocolate fireguard. (Probably.)
Here's the thing: according to Knightsbridge medical practitioner Dr Galyna Selezneva “hand cream is the perfect environment for germs to harbour, as moisture invites bacteria”. Ergo, when out in the wild, step away from the cream. But if/ now that you’re self-isolating/ WFH etc, you’re free - encouraged even - to bathe your hands in humectants. And those of the highest order. Those which hum with flowers and herbs. Those which anti age your now apparently 100-year-old hands. Those whose contents unfurl from the tube, so perfectly and cylindrically that it could pass for modern art in motion. Those whose pump satisfies you more than the click of a sanitiser lid ever could. And no, this is not frivolous or silly (so long as you’re heeding NHS advice too), because “dry, cracked hands are actually at an increased risk of infection,” says Dr Galyna. So there.
Shop and smother, people.
BEST FOR: “What, this? Just a hand cream in the shape of a small, inedible Easter egg”.
BEST FOR: Pursuing the hands you want, not the hands you have.
BEST FOR: Starting a conversation. The spreadable equivalent to a dog.
BEST FOR: Needing no introduction of your culture cred.
BEST FOR: Scents of Normalité.
BEST FOR: Those who begrudgingly forwent a dermatology appointment to self-isolate.
BEST FOR: Pretending you’re in a spa - not a Finchley flatshare.
BEST FOR: A heady reminder of the holiday that never was.