I enter most planes in a cold sweat — the result of hauling ass through the airport to gate 128 with an overstuffed carry-on and one (probably too large) personal item. In other words, the term jet-setting doesn't accurately describe my travel style. There are no flutes of Champagne waiting at my regular seat in economy, and certainly no freshly-baked cookies after takeoff, but when it comes to beauty products? That's where I really earn my wings.