The less fuss to a flawless complexion, the better -- that's my makeup philosophy. So when my fellow beauty editors started waxing poetic about the life-changing magic of primers, I wasn't drinking the Kool-Aid. That is, until I found Too Faced Hangover Replenishing Face Primer, $32.

Living in a desert climate with naturally dry skin leaves my skin looking parched, ruddy, wrinkle-prone and sometimes swollen -- in other words, my skin looks hungover, even though I'm (usually) not. This primer glides on and immediately gets to work moisturizing, utilizing all-star skin ingredients like coconut water, probiotics and electrolytes. Unlike most of the primers I've skeptically slathered on, this one is silicone-free, making it non-clogging and pore-friendly. Makeup slides on to my moisturized skin flawlessly, with no pilling.

Like a dark pair of sunglasses or a strong cup of coffee, this primer acts like a buffer between me and the real world when I need it most -- usually every morning around 8 a.m. Hangover or not, consider me a believer.

I've never really been a bronzer person. Lipstick, yes. Eyeliner, certainly. But bronzer? Afraid my amateur bronzing skills would leave me looking glaringly unnatural, old compacts collected dust in the back of my blush drawer for years. But, having lived in Southern California for some time now, I figured it was finally time to introduce a little sun-kissed glow to my complexion.

Enter: Becca Limited Edition Shimmering Skin Perfector Pressed, $38. This luminous rose-gold powder put to shame all my past forays into bronzer. Used with Becca The One Perfecting Brush, $49, I dust this shimmery goodness under my cheekbones, down the bridge of my nose and around each temple to create radiance and contoured angles all at once. The technique took some practice, I'll admit. But thanks to this product's gorgeous, one-of-a-kind "blushed copper" color and impressive staying power, I am hooked on glow.

I hate the feeling of lip gloss. The goopy-ness, the wetness, the hair plastered to my face ... it just gets an all-around "no thanks" from me. A little tube from TheBalm, though, has changed my position on lip gloss forever.

TheBalm Read My Lips, $15, is so unique because it's -- stay with me here -- slippery. It's not sticky, and it makes my lips glide over each other in a way I've never experienced with another product. It has a supernourishing, moisturizing and refreshing feeling. Any cracks or dry patches on my lips are instantly transformed in one swipe. The formula contains ginseng, a skin-regenerating antioxidant, so I feel like I'm giving my lips a little treat with every application. My lips look full and healthy -- just what you want from a gloss. I can't resist the pop art packaging and subtle fruity scent, either.

Another bonus is the color payoff--it's rare that a gloss has a completely opaque shade. All of the colors are high-impact, and the "Bam!" color seems to flatter everyone. I can't wait to get my hands on more shades. --Kelly Searle

I know, I know, beauty editors throw around the term "life-changing" a lot. But when I use it about Moroccanoil Dry Shampoo Dark Tones, $26, I mean it in the most literal sense.

I'm the owner of a thick, dark mane, which I've been told is a blessing. However, when I'm forced to style my hair in the mornings, it feels more like a curse. It requires daily washing and takes an excruciatingly long time to blow-dry, which just doesn't jibe with my already-rushed morning routine. Dry shampoo, praised as a game-changer amongst beauty editors, left my hair streaked white. So for years, I resigned myself to showering at night and letting my hair air-dry in my sleep, arriving to work with a damp 'do or sacrificing precious morning zzzs. Lose-lose-lose.

Turns out, the silver bullet I'd been seeking all this time was Moroccanoil's new tinted dry shampoo. It effectively soaks up oil, while leaving my hair looking and smelling clean -- sans chalky patches. And even though it's tinted, it doesn't leave brown residue on my scalp, fingers or bathroom sink. Win-win-win.

It's made for better hair days -- and better mornings, in general. --Mary Squillace

The allure of the French girl cannot be denied. Tell me something is French -- a beauty product, a handbag -- and I automatically like it 30 percent more. Its country of origin gives it that certain je ne sais quoi.

Case in point: When I first walked into the (very French) Zadig & Voltaire boutique on Bleecker Street in NYC, I loved it all -- the slouchy T-shirts, the moto boots, the superskinny jeans -- even though my style is more girly dresses and pointy heels. After trying some things on, I quickly remembered that cool girl in Saint-Germain just isn't my look. The jeans are too skinny; the shirts are too messy. I felt like an imposter.

As I was about to leave empty handed, I got a whiff of something. "What is that?" I asked the salesgirl. "The perfume," she responded nonchalantly, and she handed me a bottle of Zadig & Voltaire Fragrance Tome 1 For Her, $125.

I spritzed it on my wrist, took a whiff, closed my eyes and had an ah-ha moment: I smelled French. I couldn't give her my credit card fast enough.

The scent is musky and mysterious -- even a bit masculine and, well, kind of dirty -- and seriously sexy. It smells nothing like anything you'd find in an American department store. And for good reason: It's an unusual blend of peony, almond milk, jasmine tea, woods and musk.

When I wear it -- even with a very un-French outfit -- I feel cooler, less prim and much sexier. I become -- at least in my mind -- a little French. --Dawn Davis