I recently stumbled across a study that claims waitresses who wear red lipstick get more tips from men than those who don’t, due to red lips being associated with ‘heightened sexual arousal’.
Aside from the health and safety implications of being served hot food by horny waitresses, it’s surprising that those clever science boffs couldn’t work out that there’s nothing that makes an overworked, underpaid waitress any less moist than being forced to smile coyly as a sweaty overweight businessman who smells like a Lynx factory pulls you on to his lap by your skirt (happened).
If you are able, cast your mind back a mere fortnight, before the ubiquitous cat-calls and and the “cheer up love it might never ‘appen”s reemerged like seasonal athlete’s foot, to a time that was both cold and wet. During that time i’d been using lipstick as a sabre of optimism, to try and bring some colour into everyone’s life, because i’m nice like that. I’d been wearing red lipstick most days. Even INTO THE OFFICE.
It’s a pigmented minefield, is red lipstick. There are certain RULES which must be adhered to if you expect to be taken seriously in life. Much like the Posh Spice rule of thumb (tits or legs, never both), it’s sheer and natural everywhere else, darling, you’re not in the Moulin Rouge. If you don’t know that then you haven’t read enough Cosmo. Sort your face out.
There are starers, when it comes to lipstick. Applying it on public transport, particularly red lipstick, can invite audible tuts. Well, what am I to expect if i’m walking about in broad daylight with an engorged vagina painted on my face? These starers are the canny folk that know the wanton colouring-in of my mouth is really a vulpine tool by which I entice men into thinking I want to have sex with them.These responses, I conclude, are less to do with the wearing and more to do with the application. Because red lipstick is an accepted fashion in these post-Nell Gwyn days of freedom. But there’s a taboo that lingers. The secret taboo about applying makeup in public. Applying makeup in front of other humans – particularly red lipstick, which is by definition a look that says ‘hey, i’m making an effort, here’ – is what one blogger describes as ‘exposing the shadow-puppetry that is womanhood‘.
If ‘womanhood’ is the constant covering up of the tricks of the trade, a blanket denial of imperfection, then I think i’m doing it wrong. That loveable shitpipe the Daily Mail recently reported that women check their appearance a grand total of EIGHT TIMES during the day. Is that news? If I eat eight fig rolls (could and would), that’s eight times I have to check i’ve not got crumbs in my beard. If that’s vanity then, bitch please, excuse me for existing.
This aforementioned blogger has got beef with seeing you apply makeup in public. What it boils down to is, you’ve blown her cover and therefore every other woman’s and there might be MEN present and they might realise that women actually have pubic hair and – oh god – an OILY T-ZONE.
Some of the comments make for interesting reading:”I apply makeup on the subway for all the same reasons [you describe]. Frankly, the people on the subway are not my intended audience. My workplace is.”
So it’s cool if you losers see her actual face; this finished article’s for the boys in the print room.
Look. If you’re lucky enough to have the time, and are arsed enough at whatever ungodly hour you get up in the morning, to apply slap, rather than trying to do flicky eyes on the central line at rush hour, then go you. But i’ll stick to annoying uptight commuters with it. Oh, and sometimes I wear red lipstick to disguise from the fact that i’ve dry shampooed my hair for the last 3 days. We cool?