Many years ago, I was given a tube of lipstick by my mother. I wore it sparingly. The color was perfect for me and I never sought a new one for years. All I needed, whenever I wanted to wear more than just a little makeup, was that berry-colored lipstick.
But alas, all things must come to an end, and my berry-colored lipstick got lost when I moved back from Japan. I never wrote down the reference, so I’ve been looking for that stupid color ever since. I’m not great at distinguishing hues, so based on a few old pictures where I’m wearing it, I’ve collected several tubes of lipstick from different brands that are exactly the same color—the wrong color.
It’s funny to be so obsessed over something that I don’t use so often. Maybe I’m not looking for an old color but for an old self. Ah, who am I kidding, trying to sound all nostalgic. My current self is fabulous, and I just want to play with colors on my face. I cannot, for the life of me, make this sound deeper than it is.
So let’s take this lament for what it’s really worth: trying to find excuses to wear more makeup. It could be fun, so why not. Besides, I have a whole lot of it to use up, and I shouldn’t let it go to waste.