It took my turning Thirty (gulp) to finally try ‘red lips’. Try I did, and how. There’s just been no looking back since.
Having always pined for a different time (you know I’ve always had a thing for Fifties-Sixties), I haven’t exactly been immune to the allure, the charm of red lips, being that the women of the time sported the hue with just the right panache and studied nonchalance.
I love the coquettishness of it. The sexuality. That it can be gauche and vulgar. Sophisticated and timeless. That it means power and confidence. That it means being all Woman.
Not being one who was ever comfortable with too much attention (don’t let my husband tell you otherwise), am certainly surprised how taken I am by the hue. Turning older definitely had something to do with it. Let’s face it, we all turn into world-weary, world-wise women a lot sooner than what our parents ever gave us credit for. But the truth is, it took me all of three decades to become the woman I am today. And that woman sure isn’t shy of red.
Forget the fact that it brightens up a dreary day or simply turns heads… The fact is, I like who I become when I wear it.