Shades
Besame Noir red
Marc Jacobs Cabaret
Urban Decay Confession
Gucci Dark romance
NYX Simply Vamp in 3, 4 and 6
Kat Von D Vampira and Motorhead
MAC Dark Side, Sweet Succulence and Sultana
Tom Ford Black Dahlia
Blushes
Nars Almeria
MAC Blunt
Hourglass Mood Exposure
Nars Raquel
Charlotte Tilbury Nude Kate
Bite Madeira
Urban Decay Naked and Naked2 Lipstick; Liar Gloss
OCC Covet and Lament
Lipstick Queen Nude Saint, Nude Metal, Hang Ten and Velvet Rope Star System
Gucci Etheral
Tom Ford First Time
Dose of Color Angelic and Soft Touch
Too Faced Never Enough Nude
Lime Crime Babette and Coquette
YSL Nude in Private and Nude Provocateur
Estee Lauder Intense Nude
Wet N Wild Fergie Daily
Armani 100 ans 103 gloss
Revlon Brazilian Tan and Ipanema Beach
Loreal J’Lo and Frieda’s Nude
Rimmel Let’s get naked, Nude delight, To nude or not to nude and Summer angel
MAC
Gloss Water deities, Oh my darling, Steel kiss, Ultimate dish, Peachstock, Clear water,
Lipstick Peachstock, Siren song, Runway hit, Restrained, Wholesome and Altered beige
Patent polish…Innocent
Blush
MC Bareness, Clinique Cheek Pop Ginger Pop and MAC Blunt
Highlighter is MAC Lightscape (a LTD)
Lipstick
Urban Decay 69 (pink undertone), Gash (blackened with glitter) and Gash (true bright red)
Besame Noir red (deep plum undertone)
Stila Color Balm (sheer) Valentina (orange/poppy) and Ruby (deep red)
Ardency INN Lovecat (Blue)
Lipstick Queen Red Metal (Metallic)
Nars Audacious Rita (true red) and Audrey (Berry)
MAC Matte Dangerous (orange), Riri Woo (blue), All Fired Up and Relentless Red (pink)
Maybelline Siren in Scarlett (light red; blue based)
Lancome Rouge in Love Sequence of love (light red with slight blue or pink) and Rouge Saint Honore (classic medium to dark red)
Gucci Moisture Rich Iconic red (perfect lighter classic red with a slight blue undertone
Kat Von D Hexagram (matte blood red)
Urban Decay Red Light gloss (sheer bright red gloss with a touch of blue)
How to choose a red
lipstick
1.What
are your skin undertones?
a.Pinks,
oranges, blue based?Super warm skin
tones might not be able to wear reds with strong pink or purple undertones
while those more cool toned might not be able to wear orange undertones.
b.Blue
based and neutral reds should work on all.
2.Are you aiming for a specific look?
a.Dramatic, muted, retro, classic.
b.Aim for what suites your style as well as skin.
3.Finish?Matte, satin, opaque, sheer.
4.Brightness and how light/dark
5.Blush!!! I don’t see this enough.
a.The deeper the red the deeper the tone needs to
be…even if applied sparingly and blended out.
b.Match the undertones to the red.Red blush can be too harsh on many.A brown-red works with darker reds and wears
better.For those super cool toned the
straight red might actually work better (or go with a pink).
6.Eye makeup…yes…blush is more important,
especially with darker reds
c.Red lips can also pair with a smoky eye for
night
d.Highlighters work beautifully with red lips.
7.Day or night look
8.Drugstore brands are surprisingly good (often) in
this shade
9.Reds can bleed or wear unevenly.They also tend to stain.I lip liner helps a lot!And because application is so important,
makes the perfect application easier.I
actually prefer a sheer liner as then I don’t need to worry about matching.
LP -- her name, book titles and stories kill me. Who can type that many letters?
But, regardless, she' a brilliant writer and much censored in her native Russia. I've done reviews for her past work but this is for a new one and it's equally brilliant. How her mothers suffer for love, protecting children and other in a world gone mad.
For that is what her Soviet society is. Desperation, poverty, depravity but also love and the human spirit, that refuses to give up.
My family lived in Soviet and Communist Poland so I've heard their versions of Pertrushevskaya's reality. Sadly, she exposes this political system and how if brings out the worst (and the best) in some. And her stories are told in narrative, which makes them more accessible.
This book - having read the author in the past - is even more grim. But I love the book and recommend it highly.
Moods.Scents, smells and wafting waves of memories
that trigger unpredictable reactions in our minds.Images conjured up with jasmine or neroli,
sandalwood or orange blossoms.I
personally love scents redolent of patchouli and leather, with that astringent
version of oud, harsh at the open but which always dries down to a rich woody
musk.When I smell certain scents I can
conjure up and see memories that had faded to the background as I lived my
seemingly more urgent daily life.
But
the past lingers, and other times lure us with the romance of nostalgia.I mix it into my work, crafting collections
based on a time and place, an image of a more glamorous life; if only.
I
gently pick up a tobacco fragrance , with a mix of peony and leather, unusual,
unisex and fabulous then spray some on my right wrist.Returning the bottle to its spot among an
assortment of other ridiculously expensive bottles in a mirrored gold tray, I
bring my wrist to my nose.Smelling, I
instantly recognize that the scent is like a fine wine and will ripen into
something dense, deep and full in about 20 minutes.Meanwhile I’ll go find a different scent for
my left wrist but I still can’t resist that raw first sprayed scent as the
fluorescent light overhead glares in my eye. I turn my head to scan the sales floor, a vast
expanse of luxury goods decorously displayed for utter temptation.I’m escaping again, as I do.I use the excuse that it’s work and I’m
merely scoping out the competition.
Neiman’s
Beverly Hills, en route to Cedars, is the classic emporium for the rich and I
adore the makeup and fragrances here. It’s a den of indulgences and aspirant dreams,
in which I have spent an entire day more than once.The jeans here cost more than my current entire
outfit, including shoes.But the perfume
counter is the most divine place on earth, including Venice, Bora Bora and the
Taj Mahal.The sales ladies here look
you up and down but they’re also unwittingly pleasant and helpful.Who knows how Neiman’s does it? I’ve seen a couple with tattoos, hairy pits
and dirty clothes escorted counter to counter and treated like royalty
here.The snobbish element of Beverly
Hills rarely creeps through these doors.
And
the ladies here know their scents.I’m
handed sprayed samples of Clive Christian No. 1, the most expensive perfume on earth
and promised an extra cask with purchase.Instead I whiff the Ylang-Ylang and Tahitian vanilla and just
indulge.The vanilla in the concoction takes
6 months to crystalize.
The
floor is to the right of the golden doors that lead to the valet and parking
garage when you enter.The heart of
Beverly Hills shopping is out the other double doors on the store’s opposite
side.Shoes to the left , and jewelry to
the right, and in the middle of the floor is the escalator up to clothes.
But
I skip makeup.I’ve seen and swatched
it all as I was here a few days ago scoping out new releases.I head instead to the far right corner as I
move deeper into my descent from reality and into the haram of smells and dusty
cobwebs of past memories.And here I am
moving from Clive to Tom to Ramon and finally a woman, Jo, who sells only
colognes and not perfume.Then I head to
Estee.
“Can
I help you,” a tall blonde, older, asks.So far I’ve been able to slide by the salespeople but this one has me
caught.She’s dressed in black and has a
vivid lovely deep rich plum shade on her lips and as she smiles I can sense her
life and know how she ended up here.Stories are in our eyes, our stories I mean, with past and present but
no future covered.“Oh, smell this,” she
states and sprays Youth Dew on a paper strip and hands it to me.My eyes tear up at this cheaper scent, here,
where the top end is almost $1,000 for a bottle.But Youth Dew is the Estee classic and still
one of my mom’s favorites.The only
scent that can make me cry today but she needs a fresh bottle despite my
silliness.
“Rose,
lavender, spices, rich jasmine, moss, vetiver and patchouli.A classic,” I say to her and try to smile
back.I hear piano in the background and
see a cluster of women coming in our direction but I feel safe, lost in the
scent and the smile of a woman who knows what it is to live and feel.
“I’ll
take a bottle, for my mom.Do you have a
gift set?” I ask.And then I stare at
the soft ripped jeans I changed into at the last minute before leaving and
suddenly feel out of place, even if everyone here is so nice.If these were designer ripped jeans I’d feel
better but they’re old boy’s Levis ripped someplace in Venice (CA) and sold
cheap.But my saleslady smiles and
points to a lovely set.
“We
even have a gift with purchase today,” she says and nods at a lipstick,
eyeshadow and skincare cluster of items, in bright bag.I just smile back and reach for my
wallet.Mom will love it and can spray
the perfume not only on herself but also on the pillow.She make the room her own, Cora’s, not some
stale institution smelling of death.
Then
I hear the laugh and my skin crawls with the recollections of eighth
grade.Isabel.My torturer then.Isabel of the big house and limitless credit
cards.The parents who were never there,
but she had nannies and Bentleys at her beck and call.Bitch even had a private plane.
“Lise,
slumming it at Neiman’s again,” she giggles. I see she’s with two other mean girls and the
past just repeats doesn’t it?I run a
company and she runs up bills but she still talks down to me.
“I
still like the classics,” I say as I hand my card to the sales lady.“Wouldn’t kill you to try one,” I add and
smile back.She’s still thin and I hate
her for it.Thinner than I am.But she’s also ugly with a pudgy nose, post
surgery and small eyes no one can fix.An ugly vomit khaki.Whoever
thought green eyes, the most stunning shade ever, could not work on
someone.And her lips are pufferfish-lite,
the local plastic surgeons’ special.Her
forehead doesn’t move and I see a small tell tale bruise in the corner of her
right eye.It’s a fresh botox scar.She also has a $40,000 Hermes bag and the
latest Gucci blouse and slacks that I’d kill for.Her friends are also thin and perfectly
dressed, glistening like Christmas trees with fully white diamonds.At least my t-shirt and jeans are clean.
But
do I really need to deal with this crap? I’m a mogul, if a blue jeans version, with write up in W all the time
type.In the real world these things do
matter.
“Nice to see you
but I need to go,” I say firmly
“But
before you go, where can I find your makeup line here?” the bitch asks.And I see her little mind calculate the cut
she just delivered.Making me feel not
good enough, substandard and poor.But
I’m not anymore and I deliver the coup.
“I’m
at Neimen’s now.So flattered you
noticed,”I respond.Then I bat my eyelids and smile as I get my
credit card slip.Slowly I sign and see
those mean eyes coming up with a comeback.But I’ve played this game too often and for too long and I’m above it
now.Mostly.And I have a more important female to visit
as I come bearing scents of a better time.Better memories.This bitch is
just in my way.
“By
Tom Ford,” I say then gesture.I watch
my saleslady’s eyebrows jump and her eyes dart over but then she just takes my
signed slip and gracefully murmurs a delicate thanks.
The
she-devil just stares and I turn, perfume in hand and proud at my grunge
success, and leave.Mom is waiting.
Not sure what to expect, I actually really like this product. My first Korean brand makeup product ever! It might be a little shiny for those with less dry skin…and is so soft on the lips.
