Red lined

Day 1
I start the day with Rouge à Lèvres Satiné de T. LeClerc in the shade Désir, a really vibrant Crayola orange-red color. I had hard time applying and blotting the lipstick that morning—I guess I don’t know how to properly “outline” my lips. Whenever I wear lipstick, it’s always been some kind of nude shade, so mistakes aren’t very obvious. But when I applied Désir, they ended up looking really uneven. After 15 minutes of applying and cleaning up the sides, I finally got it from “Bozo” to “Betsey Johnson.”

I hadn’t told my boyfriend about this experiment, so when I came out of the bathroom, his face crumpled into a grimace and he said, “What the fuck? Stop playing around!” When I tell him that indeed this IS work and try to give him peck on the cheek goodbye, he backs up and says, “Why is TOC trying to break us up?”

On the way to the El, people keep glancing at me. Okay, maybe they stare. It’s enough to make me feel self-conscious, and I look away from anyone who makes eye contact. On the train, a girl keeps stealing glances at me. Maybe she’s just checking out the guy behind me, but she’s got a disdainful look on her face. I look down at the floor and try to hide my lips, but it’s hard to do that by biting them, as that risks getting the lipstick all over my front teeth.

At work now. I’m getting a lot of really extreme reactions, bordering on violent, all from men. Here are my favorite zingers:

Features editor Joel Reese: “Whoa!! What the…?” After I complain about getting it on my teeth, he offers this sage advice: “Why don’t you just put Vaseline on your front teeth?” Books editor Jonathan Messinger remarked: “It’s making me queasy. I can’t even look at you!” He proceeds not to look at me all day, even during face-to-face conversation. Theater editor Christopher Piatt, after I told him it was for a work assignment, and that I wouldn’t keep wearing the dramatic lips on the regular: “I’m not gonna lie to you. When I saw you earlier today, I freaked out. Your lips look two feet wider and two feet deeper than normal.”

Conversely, most of my women coworkers commented positively, if not with helpful guidance:

KS Rives, one of our designers: “Oh, I just thought you were trying something new.” Our marketing manager Eva Penar offered: “The best trick is to stick your finger in your mouth real quick [does an in-and-out motion with index finger] to pick up the excess lipstick, so that that doesn’t go on your teeth.” And our Out There editor Leah Petrusiak tried to help too: “Oh, I usually just kiss a piece of paper.”

Still, halfway through the day I decided to switch to the less-offensive Avon Cherry Jubilee C Cerise. The shade is a little bit darker, with brown undertones that the woman at the Chanel counter mentioned would do well with the yellow undertones of my skin.

It’s amazing how much more high-maintenance red is. During a meeting, I yawned and instinctively covered my mouth, only to get red lipstick stains on my hands. I started worrying that I’d smeared it everywhere. Stuff I normally would do, like hold my mail in my mouth if I’m digging out my house keys from my purse, I can’t do. I have to rethink the simple things, and it’s also a bit distracting: I have to think twice before I bite my lips (which I do, as a nervous habit) or put my face in my hands (which I do, as a stress-relieving habit). My lips also chapped like crazy underneath all the day’s coats of paint, and I could feel them cracking underneath the lipstick. Yuck.

The last straw happens at my gym that night, when my boxing coach sees me walk in and yells out: “Hi Cecilia! You painted yourself!” I took that as permission (or a cue) that I could take off the lipstick to work out, at least. As I walk to the El from the gym, I felt lighter, happier—was it the endorphins? No. I felt like I’d just gotten out of jail by wiping off the lipstick. Being able to feel my lips—lick them, not freak out at the film over them—was the most freedom I’d had all day.

Day 2
Today I decided to experiment with colors and mix them a little, to avoid the absolute horror on my boyfriend’s and male coworkers’ faces: a base of Sally Hansen Smile Brightening Lip Treatment in Dazzling, then a top coat of Avon Cherry Jubilee C Cerise.

It works (kind of): I get fewer stares from strangers on the way to work—or maybe I’m just becoming immune to them? At work, I’m greeted by our Food & Drink editor Heather Shouse (who’s worn red lipstick every day of the last two years we’ve worked together) with this: “You’re wearing lipstick now. I like it a lot! It’s a new stage for you.” That was nice to hear, especially since I’m a little bummed because my boyfriend is still resisting this assignment/me. Whoever popularized the idea that red lipstick on women = vixens-who-always-get-the-guy is a liar. Also, after Christopher said, “You look better with it today—with your white tank top yesterday, you looked a little bit like a clown,” I decide to wear black all the time. Seems like dark clothing and red lips say “elegant” more than “circus-freak.”

I’m starting to feel more confident/at home with it, for sure. But I’m still annoyed by how high-maintenance it is. Add to that list the fact that strands of hair keep getting stuck on the sticky lipstick, and when I pull my hair away, the stuff leaves a thin trail.

At work, the comments are more positive:
Joel: “Yes, today’s looks better than yesterday’s.” (Must be the mix I concocted.)
Theater writer Novid Parsi: “Wow, you look pretty and done-up today!”
Account manager Mari Taisch: “Loooove the lipstick!”

That night, I try to wear it while lounging around the house, but I realize the extent of my transformation when I notice notice the red-stained rim of my stemware, while I’m eating ice cream, drinking wine, watching Sex and the City reruns. Note to self: Please take off lipstick at home, lest you turn into a total cliché.

Day 3
Today, I try a new mix: a base of N.Y.C. Ultra Moist LipWear in Retro Red and top coat of Avon Cherry Jubilee C Cerise. On the train ride into work, my beau says to me: “You laugh differently, too. It’s like you don’t want to stretch it, so you’re not so open with your laugh—both physically and figuratively.”

At work, more tips, compliments and the naysayers:
Heather, the queen of red lipstick, finally gives up her secret: “What I usually do is put some kind of clear lip balm, like Kiehl’s or something, as base. If I want it to last all day, I outline it with lip-liner that’s similar in color, fill in my lips with that lip-liner a little, and THEN apply a tiny bit of lipstick.”
Chill Out editor Liz Plosser: “The first day it was a little shocking, but I think it looks really cute on you now!”
Jonathan: “You look like a little man trying to be a big-lipped woman.”
Gay & Lesbian editor Jason Heidemann: [Making clawing motions.] “Wow! Pow! Zing!”

I have resorted to wiping it off while eating, because something about ingesting something that smells like plastic is really unappetizing. Another thing? Wasteful as it may be, I’ve started to drink everything (water, coffee, beer) out of disposable glasses whenever possible—I really do hate leaving lipstick marks on glass and plastic containers, so my OCD finds it more efficient to just throw out a cup. Curse you, environmentally unfriendly trend! All these things are a small price to pay for how I’m starting to feel: more assertive, grown-up and—dare I say it, Tyra?—fierce.

 

Day 4
Since it worked so well yesterday, I decide to go for my invention, which I’ve dubbed Vampyre’s Deelight™. Seems like the best shade I can get with what I’ve been given.

I think my boyfriend is finally warming up to it now. By “warming up,” I mean he actually looks me in the face, and points out when I have it on my teeth.

At work, it’s back to normal. Any strange glances or compliments have subsided in equal measures. Personally, I think I hit my peak of self-assurance yesterday, so today is just ho-hum. Though it still feels like a chore to put it on every morning (and reapply after lunch), at least it seems routine.

That night, I went to an after-work dinner event with a friend, who I’ve known since middle school. He yells out upon seeing me, “Wow! Lipstick! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear makeup before!” I’ll take that as a compliment. In any case, it’s dinnertime, and the lips come off.

I contemplate going out afterwards, but the thought of reapplying the stuff seems too much of a hassle, especially while drunk. So I go home and crash. So much for hitting the nightlife circuit with my new look and being all glamorous and shit.

Day 5
I don’t know if it’s because it feels like a boring routine now (or because I never listened to the suggestions of the saleswomen at cosmetics counters as I was doing research prior to this assignment), but I finally broke down and bought MAC’s Viva Glam 1 red. The color, a matte red with blue/purple undertones, went well with my skin. It was more understated in texture, too, and it didn’t dry out my lips as much. I got the rest of my makeup done by a friend, a makeup artist at the Christian Dior counter, who cooed about how good it looked: “Oh I LOVE red lipstick, it’s so classic and retro at once.” But she also confirmed my well-founded fears: “It’s really hard to wear, though, especially for ladies with bigger lips, because it’s very much like, ‘bam!’ that’s all everybody sees.”

Day 6
I wore the Viva Glam 1. Nothing really eventful happened today—my roommate (who’s a busy lady) saw it for the first time today and doesn’t say a thing. Although I’m used to it, though I can’t say I’m not excited for tomorrow to come, my last day in the lipstick. I guess I’ve been painted into submission to it. I mind it less, but let’s just say that I’m still not loving it.

Day 7
Since it’s a Monday, nobody at work has seen me with the MAC Viva Glam 1 yet, so I get several “Looks pretty today!”

I got a late reaction from assistant photo editor Martha Williams: “Oh, that’s why your lips were so bright last week! I kept thinking, ‘Wow, Cecilia is rockin’ the lipstick recently!’”

I’m liking the Viva Glam 1—it’s probably the fact that it’s a better color for me, and it smells real purty. But don’t get me wrong—by end of day, I’m so happy to be done with this experiment, I wipe it off ceremoniously and slam-dunk the crumpled tissue paper in the trash. Still, I feel a tinge of sadness, because I had become attached to that little tube of red.

Overall thoughts:
I like change, but this was above and beyond my regular look and, most importantly, my comfort level. It’s a very high-maintenance color to wear, and god bless the grandmas around the world who’ve rocked it so well for decades, because a week felt like an eternity to me.

This experiment not only affected how I felt about myself (I felt more self-conscious, quieter and introverted), but also how I carried myself. I noticed that I tended to look downward more, in an effort to hide my lips, and my shoulders sagged. I looked in mirrors a whole lot more, just to make sure everything was in line. I almost bought a compact mirror, but decided not to. I didn’t want to be one of those people—you know, the ones that have to check on their hair or makeup every 20 minutes. I haven’t done that since middle school, and I don’t want to ever again.

I will probably wear red lipstick if I go out to a bar or club, i.e., to a dark place that’ll temper the shock to innocent bystanders. I already sent enough people into shock for that one week.