Why So COLD?

When it comes to the best way to wash your face, maybe your mother did know best.

- EMILY DOUGHERTY

To determine what texture we're touching, our brains conduct what neuroscientist Sliman Bensmaia describes as a neural symphony, with dozens of different attributes slipperiness, temperature, density, on and on-sent from 20,000 nerve fibers in the skin. Compare this to how we identify a color, interpreting just three attributes: hue, saturation, brightness. For a beauty aficionado, the teeniest tweak to just one of these color dimensions will create an entirely new shade (which explains why I have 231 same yet different red lipsticks). But when it comes to skincare, humans have predominantly preferred one specific textural neural symphony for almost 2,000 years: that of a soft, thick, comforting cream.

Cold cream, specifically, is history's vanity OG, a multitasking moisturizer, cleanser, and balm that our ancestors' ancestors slathered on with zeal. "It's the Big Momma of skincare," says dermatologist Ava Shamban. "If you look at the most ancient versions, such as from Egypt, cold creams were made to nourish the skin. Around AD 170, Greek physician-philosopher Galen codified the recipe a simple blend of beeswax, olive oil, and rosewater that you churned and churned until, as with mayonnaise or meringue, you created a sum much fluffier than its parts. "Cold cream was originally very nutrient-dense, Shamban says. "But then it became mass-produced in the 19th century with petroleum jelly and mineral oil, ingredients that don't provide any nourishment. So in the States these types of cold creams became viewed strictly as cleansers."