I am not a wealthy woman, but consider two things apart from food and water as essential tools for life – a good red lipstick and Chanel No5. No matter the time or day I wear both, typically MAC’s Ruby Woo on my mouth and my Chanel No5 eau de toilette on my pulse points – I save the perfume for posh.
Because I work from home and often get engrossed in my writing until late afternoon, my postman is now accustomed to me answering the door in my pyjamas and my hair still wildly bed head, but with immaculately applied lipstick and smelling pretty darn good. He was a bit disturbed at first, but he’s used to me now.
Red lipstick gives confidence, like a magic elixir. Every woman looks great in it, no matter the age. It enhances any skin tone, adds a slash of unexpected colour, elegance. I was at an event recently, a woman sitting in front of me had the most glorious shade on. She looked wonderful. I just had to tap her on the shoulder and compliment her on it.
Speaking to another on Twitter last week, I was gutted to hear she wasn’t allowed red lipstick in her workplace. Her boss doesn’t think red lipstick is appropriate for a bank cashier, presumably because the public would see it…and what? Be appalled, shocked, their moral values affronted? Go and speak to your union representative immediately, I insisted. You have your rights.
What a silly, foolish man. Unbeknownst to him, delighted female customers in his bank are, instead of taking offence, more likely to lean in and enquire “where on earth did you get that gorgeous lippy?”
Read the first chapter of my novel Black Milk here