I treated myself to probably the most luxurious skincare product I now own. At first I was scared to use the Eve Lom Cleanser, like I’d avoid wearing something expensive for the fear of breaking it.
However, after nearly five months of use, I think I’m finally ready to hand down my Eve Lom Cleanser review. Also known as the most expensive cleanser I have ever tried.
Eve Lom Cleanser Review
Why is Eve Lom Cleanser so good? Let’s start with why I felt compelled to buy it. When Eve Lom launched on Birchbox I knew I’d heard the name somewhere before, but where? A few minutes later I’d read that Vogue named it “possibly the best cleanser in the world”, and that was 25 years ago. Today however it still remains the brand’s best seller!
Okay so I got sucked into the praise from Vogue, but I also had some Birchbox points to spend and so I just went for it. That’s is a good enough excuse, right?
Remember I said I was scared to use the Eve Lom Cleanser at first, because it’s so damn expensive? Well, the time to finally crack open this little pricy pot of goo came on my birthday of all days. I had emptied my previous cleanser, so I took a deep breath and scooped out the appropriate amount.
Initially it felt like a creamy, yet tough-like balm (my proper scientific description), yet to then magically transform into a smooth velvety oil once warmed and massaged onto my skin. My fingers glided across my face at such a pleasurably pace, I’d became so lost in the moment I continued to massage my skin for a further couple of minutes. This is definitely the most luxurious feeling skincare product I have ever smothered across my tiny boat race!
7 Step Routine
There’s a 7 step routine?! Oh yes there is, I did say it was luxurious, indulgent even (a word used to describe it from Eve Lom the brand itself!). I couldn’t just wash and go with a product like this, so here’s what I had to learn to do every evening. You’ll be pleased to know however I’ve shortened the amount of steps…:
- Step 1: Apply the cleanser to my entire face and neck. I’m also supposed to apply deep pressure to behind my ears with my fingertips, but I haven’t been doing this.
- Step 2: Apply pressure again with my fingertips to my forehead, under eye area, jaw line, upper lip, corners of mouth and under cheekbones. There’s a whole process to this with how long to hold for and how many times repeat which is listed in the accompanying leaflet. Again, I’ve not been doing this every time. I just don’t get the time to.
- Step 3: Soak muslin cloth (a key piece that is also included!) in hot water and wring out. I press the muslin cloth on my entire face for 5 seconds. The heat softens my skin and is supposed to activate essential oils – so I make sure the water is quite hot. Then I repeat this 2 more times.
I really haven’t tried any other cleanser like this one and I never imagined how luxurious it could feel just to simply cleanse! But enough on how it actually feels, does it actually do any good? I’ve got to say, my skin does feels soft, after I’ve followed this elaborate way to remove my make up. Although I still apply serum and oil before going to bed, which helps to keep my skin hydrated and replenished.
Despite the fact I’ve skipped a lot of the massaging trickery I’m supposed to do, I’ve found pressing a hot muslin cloth on my face and repeating this action has really been beneficial to my skin. I still get blemishes, yet they’re softer and not as sore as before. In a gross way they’re easier to pop too, if I cave into temptation. Although, I tend to leave them, as they’ll usually healed and removed the next time I cleanse.
I’m certainly impressed and I can see (and feel!) why the Eve Lom Cleanser is so special. I’ll be sad when I’ll start scraping the bottom of this tub and at £55 a pop, I’ll use the same reasoning I’ve had to do with Elemis Hydra-Boost Day Cream. Which is that I’ll have to wait until I win the lottery before it becomes one of my beauty regime staples.
Now my fear to use this product isn’t down to just how much it cost, I now don’t want to use it because of the realisation it will one day go, go and be gone. (And I can’t afford to get it back.)