The Power of Red Lipstick

A Journey of Rediscovery

Many years ago, during my surly GenX teen years, I wore red lipstick. Specifically, Borghese Opera Red. I don’t know why I stopped wearing it, but it was a constant companion when ringing up groceries at our local supermarket and attending college. Nothing felt better than swiping on the perfect red with my required white polo and khaki pants uniform before hopping out of my black Pontiac Fiero and strolling in for my shift after class.

I don’t know why I stopped wearing red and moved to creamy mauve lips, but it was probably my mother telling me, “You need to add a little color to your face,” even though I was happily in my grunge years.

When my husband and I were dating, not long after he had proposed, we were going out to dinner with friends in Baltimore for Valentine’s Day. I had the perfect outfit, but I knew I needed red lipstick. At this point, I had not worn a red in seven years. So he went with me late one night to the store to buy lipstick. None were my Opera Red, and I learned he was indeed a keeper who would put up with anything two hours later when I left the store with a lipstick that didn’t make my heart happy but worked in a pinch.

Photo by Adejoke Drilling on Unsplash

As the years went on, I stuck with subtle colors or a clear lip balm most days. But there comes a point in a woman’s life when she is ready to reinvent herself. Or at least change her lipstick color.

The impetus for my change was grief.

After my husband’s cancer diagnosis and subsequent stroke, during a pandemic, my hair turned grey in a little over two months. Completely grey. I have photos with my friend Allyson in NYC in November 2022 after our annual work benefit, and I cannot believe that is my hair. When I texted my stylist in March 2023, whom I have been going to for 22 years, and said, “If you could do anything to my hair, what would you do?” What came back was a flurry of texts and photos of ideas. She had a folder on her phone just for me, but the one consistent thing — I needed to go back to the color of my youth, and for that, I was told to bring in photos, and she would go from there.

Once she worked her magic, I was blonde again, but not the cottony white-blonde color of my childhood, but darker to suit my age and skin. The morning after she colored my hair, I walked into the bathroom and screamed because I did not recognize the woman in the mirror.

There comes a point in every woman’s life when she does not recognize herself. That had started for me in perimenopause in my thirties. But I was 50 at this point and newly widowed. When I realized that my time left on this earth was less than what I had spent on it, I really did not know who I was. All I knew was that my life had irrevocably changed, and who I was on the outside did not fit who I was on the inside.

When the Sephora sale rolled around last year, I started shopping for lip colors to add to my already bulging online cart and wound up with not only one red lipstick but three. I cannot tell you how that happened, as grief brain is real, and short-term memory loss is a force to be reckoned with. But I vaguely remember that the Christmas holidays were coming, and I needed a new lipstick to help me get into the festive spirit.

Needed.

Photo by Erika Fletcher on Unsplash

My hair color was changed, but the colors I had worn before no longer suited me. They felt like an itchy sweater, except on my lips, and every time I looked at myself, I hated how I looked. I have body image issues; we all do in some way, shape, or form. I don’t like that my lips have gotten thinner as I have aged, and I certainly don’t like the additional texture on my skin. But I knew I could change my feelings about myself by adjusting a few things.

When my package showed up, I tore into it, and there it was. Three different red lipsticks, one with a matching nail polish. I chose willy-nilly from the shades and carefully applied, noting and not caring about my thinner lips due to age and maybe saying a few words my grandmother would not approve of when trying to make sure everything was even.

As if it were magic, the woman looking back at me in the mirror felt brighter and looked like she was supposed to again. Instead of washed out and frumpy midlife Lisa, I felt a little more vibrant and realized that maybe midlife wasn’t such a bad thing, but something to move into boldly.

I used the tube of long-lasting red lipstick over a little lip balm to ensure my lips were hydrated. I topped that with a coordinating red moisturizing lipstick to not only ensure the staying power but also to enjoy how the two colors made a custom look just for me. I loved, and still love, this look so much that when we had our work holiday Zoom cocktail hour, I wore my sparkly green dress, red lips, and my favorite Dr. Martens.

Have I mentioned that for a brief while —when I blogged many years ago — the geniuses at Lucky magazine syndicated blog posts, and occasionally, my blog posts would show up there since I have always constantly tested and tried new beauty? My first piece they ever shared was on Butter London nail polish (maybe around 2011?), and to this day I still get a little thrill when I think about it, and my heart feels incredible warmth toward

Kim France

’s genius.

I am still wearing red lipstick, but I am also wearing bold pinks, and some of my favorites are from Violette FR and Trinny London (more on those later). I also have a deep, creamy, long-wearing pink from Maybelline that a few friends have commented on out of the blue to let me know it works.

I really don’t know if there is a moral to this story. What I do know is that sudden change when you are grieving isn’t optimal, and I was advised by my therapist not to make any as it is often more challenging to reverse what you’ve done. I had planned on getting a tattoo for my 50th birthday, which I had planned for several years. That has yet to happen, and what I had planned on getting for so long does not seem as important now, so I am happily ink-free. Well, minus the ink staining my fingertips. I love journaling with a Murano glass fountain pen that I dip in ink.

Change is both invigorating and challenging. When life's irreversible shifts leave you feeling like a stranger in your own skin, even small acts of self-rediscovery can be profoundly meaningful. Something as simple as applying a bold red lipstick can reignite a sense of identity and confidence. While it may not solve my problems, embracing these small changes allows me to face life's challenges with renewed strength. It reminds me that I still have the power to define who I am, even in the face of circumstances beyond my control. In the end, it's not about the lipstick itself, but about reclaiming a piece of myself and moving forward with purpose and grace.

A Christmas Selfie