I have been in love with the natural world for as long as I can remember, Not as a hobby. Not as an aesthetic. As a way of being.
Part of my practice is simply getting to know botanicals, deeply, over time, the way you get to know anything worth knowing. The plant growing outside my window and the one I have not yet touched, from a place I have not yet been — both call to me equally. The botanical world has been my pathway back to my senses. It is what grounds me most deeply. And it is why I am keen to share it as a way of being.
In my kitchen, borage flowers float in a botanical elixir — blue stars suspended in gold. They taste of cool cucumber. They turn an elixir into something worth pausing for. Some botanicals you apply to the skin. Some you drink. The wisdom is in knowing which, and why.
On my workbench, three brass dishes hold chamomile, calendula and rose petals — each one a different color, a different temperament, a different gift. I spend my days learning their language. After twenty years, they are still teaching me.
The tulip magnolia is a work of art before it is anything else. I watched it come alive in early spring — fuzzy buds slowly giving way to soft pink spears swaying in the wet breeze, waiting for the moment the petals would break free and unfurl in the sunshine. When they did I stood under that tree, looked up at pink against brilliant blue, and felt something dormant in me stir awake. The petals taste spicy, like ginger, fresh from the branch. Infused slowly into honey, the petals give everything they have — the final gift is in the honey itself, sweet and complex and alive. I use it in masks. I add it to teas. The sight, the raw taste, the slow infusion — all three played with my senses beautifully. This is what I mean when I talk about botanicals. This is the practice.
I hold a tremella mushroom the way you would hold something you cannot believe exists. It looks like a flower. It is not a flower. It is the ultimate hydrator — for the skin and for the whole body. Hydration is the foundation of healthy skin. Tremella delivers it beautifully, without fuss — and it hold its weight in more ways than just water. It has been valued in TCM for centuries. That lineage is part of why I trust it.
This is what I bring into the treatment room with me.
Women have been tending to each other’s beauty since the beginning of recorded history — and long before it. Across Egypt, across eastern Asia, across centuries of feminine knowledge passed hand to hand and generation to generation. What I practice is not new. It is a continuation of something very old — and very wise.
I am not here to fix your skin. I am here to tend to it — with knowledge, with care, and with genuine reverence for the person it belongs to. The starting point is not a problem to be solved. It is acceptance. From acceptance, everything becomes possible.
What I offer is a practice. One built on the belief that consistent, devoted botanical care leads to a complexion that reflects it — luminous, healthy, and genuinely yours.
It’s all about grace.