I caught up with one impeccably put-together friend a few weeks ago over a leisurely lunch, Italian in length. As we got up to leave, she pulled out a black leather lipstick tube from her purse and twisted it up to reveal a charcoal black bullet that she skimmed over her mouth—no mirror. It left behind an incongruous light pink stain.
This friend wouldn’t dare touch a nail polish darker than Ballet Slippers, hence the lipstick caught my eye. “Whoa,” I said, making grabby hands at her Givenchy Le Rouge Interdit Balm 10. “Isn’t it so cool?” She said with a sheer berry grin. “And it looks different on everyone!”
