Your Top Shelf Needs Some Scissors


If I’m trying to be the woman I want to be, all of my beauty tools come out to play. I wear my Dr. Dennis Gross SpectraLite LipWare for three minutes daily. I zap my face with my ZIIP every other day. I contour my face with my Jillian Dempsey Gold Bar as I catch up on TikTok. But inevitably, I get tired, and I use them less and less until the next time inspiration strikes. Throughout it all though, there are two tools that never have to worry about a lack of interest: a pair of scissors and a long, thin skincare spatula. My absolute Top Shelf heroes.

The scissors are, well, scissors. They’re gray. They were just over $6 on Amazon and bought in a hurry when I moved to a new apartment. There’s nothing extraordinary about them. They just do their one job: cut. In my case, they cut beauty products in half in my desperate attempt to carve out every last drop. They’ve helped me get through many a Neutrogena benzoyl peroxide container (sexy!) and Tula SPF 30 (the barista at my favorite coffee shop compliments me every time I wear it, and I’m not about to give up that serotonin). As long as a product comes in a thin-enough plastic, it’s fair game: Toothpaste tubes. Creams. Cleansers. You name it, I’ve cut it in half. In some cases, I’ve been able to scrape enough product to last me an additional week.

The other half of the equation is a dual-ended, silicone spatula. When Soft Services launched its Carea cream, which is housed in aluminum, I started to carve out the last bits of the lotion with its pump—it was one of the few body lotions that actually made my persistently dry skin look alive, and I wasn’t about to leave even a morsel of it behind. I later turned it upside down and smacked the bottle as hard as I could, but even that left some product at the bottom.

My scissors were useless in this case, but Soft Services swooped in with a clutch solution: a dual-ended, bright orange spatula that’s just over 6 inches long (I found an Amazon dupe here). One side is pointy to get into pesky, tiny corners, and the other side is flat, best for scraping the sides and the bottom of my containers. I know I could just dip my fingers into small-enough products, but the thought of inviting whatever bacteria is hanging out under my nails is enough to put me off that idea. The last time I called my handy spatula in for duty was last Friday. I had a tiny, sample-sized tube of Biologique Recherche’s Masque Vivant, a pungent—think: dark chocolate mixed with cheese—face mask several facialists swore would help my angry chin. It was my final hail mary after a week of looking like a hormonal teenager, and my spatula was a key player. A few scoops later, the tube was as empty as possible, the evidence sitting on my skin. Hormonal breakouts may be temporary, but the spatula is forever.

Photo via ITG