Best Lipstick Formulas 2019

Glossier keeps coming up with new marketing strategies to put me off and new products to tempt me back in. No sooner had I planned a post on Glossier's MLM-esque rep program than they released a fucking birthday-cake-scented lip balm with sparkles and holographic packaging. I have a price, and Glossier knows it. So this post will be a two-parter: a review of Birthday Balm Dotcom, followed by one of my usual rants against the marriage of social media and late capitalism. Who says we can't have our cake and eat it too? *** PART 1: THE REVIEW *** Birthday is Glossier's collaboration with Milk Bar , the dessert arm of the Momofuku restaurant empire. The pairing makes a lot of sense: like Glossier, Milk Bar sells overpriced, overhyped products in small portions, but damned if its aesthetic isn't on point. Here's the "Cereal Milk" soft-serve I had last October in Williamsburg; it was tasty, but who wants soft-serve without a cone? Give me Mister Softee any day

My boyfriend recently left his job in the UK, which is great news relationship-wise: we met in my former graduate program and have been long-distance since I transferred to my current school seven (!) years ago, and now we'll actually be able to live together for more than a couple months at a time. On a shallower level, however, this will be my last transatlantic makeup review for a while. Before my boyfriend returned to the US earlier this month, I sent him to the Kiko store in the Birmingham train station, where he very kindly swatched a few shades of the Velvet Passion matte lipstick line. (Weirdly, there's another Kiko store five minutes away, in the enormous mall attached to the station.) Here's the full display of the lipsticks, which launched last year. Each one retails for  £ 7 (about $9). The shade I chose was 319 (Chocolate), a medium plummy brown that feels very Jazz-Age-casual to me. The Velvet Passion lipstick bullets have an odd squared-off tip that resemble

Most makeup collectors have their color kryptonite, particularly when it comes to lipstick: pinky nudes, corals, blue-based reds. For me that color is, and has pretty much always been, magenta. Or whatever you want to call it: bright plum, dark fuchsia, anything that walks the line between purple and deep pink. I just did a lazy Google search for "magenta," and here's the image that comes closest to my Platonic ideal: Magenta isn't a particularly trendy color these days. It evokes 1980s excess, and can read especially '80s if paired with blue or green. For proof, here's my own vintage '80s dress, which I can't wear in public because I'm a somewhat self-respecting adult, but also can't get rid of because look at it : Detail of the pattern: There is something tacky and hedonistic about magenta, but my natal decade was not the only tacky, hedonistic one in history (though it sure came close). In fact, magenta is a nineteenth-century color, a produ

(You have to read "faked" with two syllables, as if this is a Donne poem, or the title won't make sense.) In the past two days, swatches and reviews of Urban Decay's new Naked Heat palette have been making the social-media rounds. (Here's a sneak peek from Temptalia and a review from Makeup and Beauty Blog.) Like many people, I can't help feeling that the palette is doubly redundant: it's not only the eighth Urban Decay Naked palette in seven years, but also the 93,458th orangey-red eyeshadow palette since mid-2016. Plus, it shares a weakness with the ABH Modern Renaissance palette: several of the medium-saturation shades look very similar to each other, which will make it difficult to achieve any look that's higher-contrast than a smoky wash of orange. I do like that '80s-throwback packaging, though. Source Since I already struggle to use the warmer, bolder colors in Modern Renaissance, I have no plans to buy Naked Heat. However, I can't de