Kathleen Granko Krall

That was precisely when it happened, my authentic Oprah Winfrey a-ha moment. At 52, I wanted out of our poisonous, youth-obsessed beauty culture, illusionary at best but more often unapologetically deceptive. Images offered as “effortless” in magazines and social media seductively and insidiously pulverize female self-esteem to a microfine powder which fails its promise to illuminate. I wanted my money back. I credit my savvy and self-confident teenage daughter Kate for rousing me from idiocy. It was a Sunday morning, and with a keen eye, I scrutinized online offerings...