Arriving at Kate Moss’s Oxfordshire home, a few hours from London, you’re greeted by that boho rock and roll atmosphere you’d expect from the reigning queen of the Glastonbury music festival (for 20 years running). Wild English roses grow along the stables and stone outbuildings that dot the property, and there’s a silver 1970s Rolls-Royce Shadow II parked in the driveway. As I step through the doorway, I’m greeted by two life-size skeletons arranged in a compromising position on the stone floor.
Kate meets me at the door in a fringed vintage Missoni caftan and cadmium-red Venetian slippers peeking out from under the hem. We walk from the lobby to the living room, where she sinks into a soft pink sofa. Fresh off a detox retreat in Turkey, her tan is intensified by antique turquoise jewelry and that bright, crooked smile. She looks good – really good.
“I just don’t feel the need to tear myself apart right now,” Kate says, with a flicker of malice when I ask what’s behind the stunning 180-degree turn of a woman who once personified the deadly sins that are now the antithesis of the concept. of well-being. Her own insertion into the world of self-care, with Cosmoss – a collection of six products for care rituals, which took two and a half years to develop – is deeply linked to this specific scenario, as she explains: meetings with her development team took place on his farm’s kitchen table and were accompanied by stimulating walks through the garden, picking rosemary and bay leaves, while the details of the moss green and gold packaging were finalized.
“There are so many herbal teas that taste like pond water,” she says good-naturedly, pouring Dawn, a blend of hibiscus flowers, into a set of Moroccan glasses. The invigorating pink concoction is delicious, with hints of nettle and a little thyme to boost the immune system and soothe the soul. The relaxing version, Dusk, suitable for bedtime, has the intense blue of a butterfly species (“It’s the color of the sky here, around seven o’clock,” says Kate). “Cosmoss celebrates my vulnerabilities and strengths,” she says, at once ethereal and ordinary. “Resilience is also a great word.”
But let’s back up a bit: tea alone cannot convey the kind of transcendent confidence that Kate, now 48, radiated at this year’s Met Gala, and she’s the first to admit it. “I just wanted to grow up,” she says, of some serious life changes she’s been making over the past decade, inspired in part by her “very well-behaved and very studious” daughter, Lila, 19, who is heading to college. Parsons School of Design in New York this fall. Kate Moss now does her Ashtanga sequence three times a week and organizes sound and gong baths in her living room with the lady from the local health food store. It might sound hippie, but when she describes the therapy sessions — sitting on cushions next to a large Buddha sculpture placed in front of the marble fireplace — the idea of looking at Kate’s Francis Bacon and Damien Hirst paintings to the sound of Tibetan bowls and bells filling the room feel quite calming. It’s all a far cry from the scrutiny of those early years when she was a model, a period that was spent in a Marlboro Light haze and not giving much thought to what it meant to be healthy. “There was so much carelessness,” recalls Kate. “You were a kid, and they would just throw you an old croissant backstage at shows.”
Her first detox trip to Turkey 10 years ago was enlightening. “No one taught me that if you don’t eat vegetables, you’re still going to be hungry because you’re not getting adequate nutrition,” she says, offering a quick lunch of steamed spinach, fish and brown rice. These and other practical healthy living skills were acquired at the picturesque Akra Barut resort in Antalya, where LifeCo professionals taught Kate how to incorporate mindfulness into all facets of her life. Kate’s favorite program is Master Detox, a week-long cleanse created by London-based nutrition coach and bestselling author Amanda Hamilton: no solids, just juices, to give the digestive system a rest. On her most recent visit, Moss traveled with five friends. “We would wake up at 6 am to swim in the sea, make juices and stay healthy,” she says. An introduction to the power of yoga to strengthen body and mind, gifted by actress Sadie Frost’s favorite French instructor when Kate turned 44, was equally transformative. But the contribution of Victoria Young – the London homeopath featured by makeup artist Charlotte Tilbury and Kate’s longtime boyfriend Nikolai von Bismarck – has become central to both her daily life and her debut brand.
A mix of transcendental meditation and apps like Calm and Insight Timer is now Kate Moss’s hub of the day: “Today I wanted to be more present; yesterday, I was at peace and with courage,” she shares the extra dose of inner strength needed for the live-streamed lawsuit she just witnessed – a subtle reminder to anyone (everyone) who was watching the torrid court case between Johnny Depp and Amber. I’ve heard that Kate has always been, since she was a freckled, auburn-haired teenager, an arbiter of authenticity. “I was glad I did. It had to be done,” she says in a measured tone, consciously pointing to a Spartan table, the pertinent spot where she gave her statement remotely. [Kate Moss testemunhou no julgamento de Johnny Depp versus Amber Heard] – and from where the world became obsessed again with her unparalleled cheekbones, which looked glowing even on a Zoom screen.
This shine can be attributed to the extract used in two products from Kate Moss’s line, a complex of three Icelandic wild plants, present in the face cream and cleanser she developed with Victoria Young. “I’m obsessed with washing my face,” she says, likely a hangover from the many years she spent in the makeup chair. The foam cleanser has a hint of detoxifying pink clay and bakuchiol — which, she proudly explains, is a plant-based alternative to retinol. Another notable ingredient: CBD, the reformed party girl’s beauty elixir of the ’90s. “I use it to relieve tension rather than a glass of wine. I find it very soothing,” she says, petting her little dog Papillon, content in the folds of her caftan. “And they have CBD for dogs, did you know?” she adds, dropping some of her Golden Nectar, a cell-rejuvenating antioxidant oil, onto her tongue.
The line is entirely vegan, which Kate isn’t, but she’s a “conscious eater,” she says, sitting down to artichoke soup and buttered toast with Victoria Young and her team, as Lila joins them. Calm and poised, young Moss enters the kitchen in heavy combat boots and a long black floral chiffon skirt, the outline of her diabetes monitor visible through the fabric. Lila, who had been photographed by Vogue the day before, shares her mother’s love of vintage style and tea ritual, and they communicate warmly, talking about their plans to see ABBA’s holograms that night and the merit of the rumors about it. the Fleetwood Mac meeting in Glastonbury, which unfortunately did not materialize.
“It’s this balance of all these beautiful parts of [Kate] at once,” suggests Young of the Cosmoss’ appeal. “And the not-so-pretty parts,” interrupts Kate, a nod to her far-from-monastic approach to personal well-being: mid-conversation, she lights a cigarette with a feline discretion I thought I even imagined. “I think that’s one of the most personal things she’s ever done; without external influences. It came from this house, which is her sacred place,” adds Kate’s longtime creative consultant and hairstylist James Brown, who came to Oxfordshire six weeks before COVID and has lived with Kate, Lila and von Bismarck ever since.
As an integral part of this intimate focus group, Brown was an early user of the face cream, as he had a “soul-destroying” skin inflammation that Moss was determined to help heal, despite Brown’s initial reluctance to play the guinea pig. A sibling fight ensued, first over the application and, just 24 hours later, over who got the only sample. Cosmoss has evolved “exactly as Kate wanted,” Brown continues, pointing to the view from her breakfast table: “She loves that garden as much as a Galliano bias-cut dress!”
During a stroll among the peonies, poppies and allium, which are dotted with tulips (an annual gift from hairstylist Sam McKnight) and some “very 80s” pink carnations (the Santa Maria Novella brand stopped making clove oil, so Kate is cultivating herself), she tells me about her beauty ambitions as we pull up beside a gypsy wagon. The decorative wooden piece, a gift for Lila’s 15th birthday, is regularly requested as a hiding place by Kate, and she curls up inside, revealing her purpose with an assertive statement: “I want to have my own spa!” It’s a compelling idea, thanks in large part to an almost evangelical desire to spread this message of gentle self-care. “I thought, I just love this — and I want to tell people,” says Kate, of the healing herbs, meditation and other practices prescribed by Young.
The two women work almost symbiotically and, before heading back to London, I am quickly sprayed with their “aura fragrance” called Sacred Mist. Young encourages me to ‘visualize’ as I breathe in the heady mix of oak moss, cedar wood and tonka. “We’re still having fun, it’s just different fun,” insists Kate, tapping a bowl to make a sound in a noble attempt to teach me how to use the meditation tool. Not sure if it activated my heart chakra, but I felt the good vibes.