M: SPRING. It is spring. The leaves are growing.
E: So I hear. The bunnies are frolicking. The daffodils are .. being yellow.
M: The squirrels are screwing.
E: The teenagers are smoking hash.
M: The peacocks are barking.
E: The seagulls are eating chips.
M: I think we’re doing spring wrong, E.
E: You may be right.
M: You know what spring needs, E?
E: Castrating? A restraining order? An ASBO? To actually get motherfucking warm?
M: Maybe. Or: a bright lip.
E: Oooooh. A bright lip. The fashion singular.
M: A bright lip that says OOOOH LOOK AT ME, I AM DRUNK ON THE GOODNESS OF SUNSHINE!
E: Funnily enough, I have been and bought myself a bright lip, which as you know is TOTALLY out of character.
E: You know about my Lip Colour Phobia.
M: Yes. I know it well. I disapprove of it.
E: I fear lip colour. I only want .. nude. And beige.
M: Nude schmude. Beige schmeige.
E: Well, I had a rush of spring blood to the head and I allowed a saleslizard to convince me to buy a bright lipstick. It is Tom Ford’s Flamingo.
M: Tom Ford: the Rolls Royce of lipstick.
E: Of course Tom Ford has a Flamingo, and I bet it doesn’t shit over his parquet or keep him up with its raucous spring lovemaking.
M: Like the peacock in my garden. That is one randy bird.
E: Peacocks: creatures of high libido.
M: Flamingos: creatures of excellent pinkness.
E: True, dat. Here is my lipstick. It is pretty. And BRIGHT.
M: Nice. Cheerful. Not peacock shagging wild, just pink.
E: Tom? Flamingos aren’t actually that colour. They are more coral.
M: I think it’s supposed to be more like, essence of flamingo. Flamboyant. LOOK AT ME! I’M A PINK BIRD!
E: Somehow, pink is less of a psychological leap for me than red.
M: That’s weird, it’s harder for me. Red is easy, classic.
E: I think Mademoiselle was my gateway lipstick.
M: Dude, that’s practically brown.
E: PINKY brown. And now I am trying to push my lipstick boundaries back, like on one of those programmes about phobias.
“Describe your level of discomfort on a scale from one to ten”
Red would be a TEN. Pink is ooh, a seven, I suppose.
M: I see, like arachnophobia therapy. First you can look at pictures of a spider, then you can look at a spider, then you can wear a spider on your lips.
E: Erm, yes. So red lipstick is my spiderlips. I’m not there yet. I have to confess I am not even fully doing the pink thing.
M: What comfort level of lipstick are you wearing now?
E: Well. I am trying to use this Tom Ford Flamingo, but I am smudging it with some Lanolips Rhubarb. It’s really full on and matte if you put it straight from the tube.
M: Pretty! I do not agree that, in your words, you look like a “geriatric goth forced to wear a tutu”. Smudging is good. I always end up with lipstick on my teeth otherwise. Since you are experimenting with pink, E, let me show you MY pink lipstick.
E: WHOOOAAAA. THAT SHIT IS PINK.
M: YES! SO PINK. Even pinker in real life. Neon pink.
E: You look really hot actually. What is it?
M: Thanks E. It is Estee Lauder Portofino Coral, granny’s signature lipstick.
E: It’s ok, you don’t have the heavily powdered face necessary to do it granny style.
M: It’s very creamy, and super pigmented, but it goes all over the fucking place.
E: All over your granny shopping trolley and your zip up furry booties. No, I am joking, it’s really very pretty. It makes me want to push back my pink boundaries (that sounds like a terrible euphemism).
M: Ha. I love it with actual true love.
E: Pink lips: not just for Christmas. Indeed, not for Christmas at ALL.
M: What are your favourite pinks, Facegoopists? And what lipstick colours set your spider phobia scale tingling?
Tom Ford in Flamingo, £36