I can’t deny it any longer.
Hello. I’m Christine, and I’m a lipstick addict.
You see, lipstick doesn’t ask questions. Lipstick understands. I kid of course, it’s not that serious … Yet. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a profound love affair with lipstick. Dating back to my Barbie doll-days, when 8y old me would wear the brightest pink children’s lipstick, to my teenage years when stealing my mother’s lipstick (I confess, I do know where all your lipsticks went mom, and no you didn’t lose them), all the way to my adult life owning about a full MAC store worth of lipstick. It’s safe to say that this obsession has gone beyond safe. As in, you name a color and you bet I will have about 34 variations of said shade. As in, thinking about the combined worth of my lipstick collection gives me palpitations because for the same amount, I probably would’ve been able to buy a cosy loft in the city.
As in, seeing me without lipstick is like watching the eighth World Wonder unfold before your eyes; it really is that rare and only happens on rare days at the office when I really can’t be fucking bothered and my hair is a bloody mess anyways and I’m still wearing last night’s eyeliner which has become an accidental smokey eye or in other words: just roll with it, or when I’m dragging my fat ass to the gym. Because, let’s admit it, wearing lipstick in the gym is like going to McDonald’s wearing a ballgown (can’t say that I haven’t done that last part though, I guess sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do?).
But while lipstick an sich might come across as a shallow means to portray oneself differently than what one truly is, it has a more profound meaning for me and one that you probably didn’t see coming (I’m full of surprises, aren’t I). You see, I’ve long lived by the famous and kinda cheesy Elizabeth Taylor quote, “Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together,” and this is a line that couldn’t
hold more truth for me. And then I’m not talking about the drink part, you think you know me all too well, don’t you (okay, maybe you do). But besides my other grand love affair with margarita’s, putting on a ‘lippie’ is truly all about pulling myself together. The play with color — and the bolder, the better — gives me an edge on days when I’m feeling way too much on edge. Lipstick gives me the audacity to bypass my anxious mind, and flow right back into myself, my own identity.
And that identity is associated with bucketloads of femininity; of feeling like the most pure form of a woman and letting that dictate my mood; of portraying a delicate tenderness in all my boldness; of not hiding behind the mask of a mind disorder but to be vulnerable and soft, ladylike in its truest definition. I simply adore being the most girly woman existing on the planet, and if a little rouge can help me fulfill my everyday ballerina princess dreams, then I’m happy to oblige. So while other cosmetics (like my much-trusted foundation
or concealer) are used to hide certain aspects of ourselves, lipstick turns the big, bright spotlight straight onto myself. In some ways, it’s a statement of assertion, like, “I’ve put this vampish, powerful, I-don’t-give-a-fuck shade on, so I might as well live up to it now.”
There you go. Confidence in a tube.
And in that, each color dictates my mood: grunge-soaked purples, Old Hollywood reds, sexy Bardot nudes, Carrie Bradshaw pinks. And unlike men, I can honestly say that I’ve never met a rouge I didn’t like.
To pour all that je-ne-sais-quoi and creativity that stems from putting on lipstick, into something actually productive for a change, I played with lipstick even more (oh, the irony) and portrayed it for you while I was at it, to show you just how serious I am about this. Don’t mess with me. Or my lipstick.
Because did I already mention?
I’m Christine and I’m a lipstick addict.
Photography & styling: Christine Smeyers
Lipstick look 1: Bourjois Rouge Velvet The Lipstick 06
Lipstick look 2: Bourjois Rouge Velvet The Lipstick 07
Lipstick look 3: MAC ‘Up The Amp’
Lipstick look 4: MAC ‘Diva’