“Come here and give me a kiss!” those old farts used to say to me. Cheek pinching ensued soon after.
“Yuck!” was my remark to those wrinkly folks, wiping my cheek of that chalky, nasty lip junk that was never colored inside the lines, pun intended.
That’s what I used to think of lipstick. Then the Wall Street Journal published an article where the author had a shocking experience. Looking through a year’s worth of photos, she chose four that she liked. Four. Her resolution after looking at the photos and realizing (but accepting) that she was aging was to slather on some lipstick for future photo ops.
I read the article the day I photographed “How i Wore It: Comfy and Cozy.” “Hmmm…” I thought, “let me try this out.” So, I walked three blocks to CVS, picked a sultry dark brown shade, and started snapping. Editing Looking at the photos, I liked what I saw. The author was right – lipstick is a quick way to look put together, just like my Kate Spade watch and clutch. The author even gave tips and tricks, courtesy of makeup artist April Greaves (who she is, I have no idea, but she sounds important), on application so that when I’m a wrinkly prune sixty years from now, I can give those little tots lots of smooches without maring my appearance or their emotions.
