I got a new hair color. Well, a couple of them.
I had walked into the salon considering a reddish tone and some bayalage and came out in a much more adventurous two-toned haircut.
And I realized that half the clothes I had in my closet, the ones fitting the natural brunette hair and the mom life were suddenly, well, not cool enough.
And so was my repertoire of mascara and Nars all-in-one color.
I wandered slightly aimlessly a few days ago in a local mall, after a mall play date with a friend and random wandering around Charming Charlies.
We steered into Sephora because, well, why not, with the toddler starting to wonder what the heck we were doing and my eldest ponding the rainbow array of makeup.
“Mommy, you should try this one,” he said, walking over to a display and pointing at an orange lipstick.
I only own a couple lipsticks, the brightest being a sheer red from MAC. Usually I wears off before I’ve noticed, and since right now I only see the boys, why should I put any on?
But I grabbed a makeup applicator and swiped a smear of Buxom’s Rogue on my lips, noticing instantly how well my blazin’ hair color fit the orange, letting it blend in rather than stand out.
It came home.
I got ready for a morning of errands a few days later, trying out my new bright hair and swiping on my old reliable lip gloss, adding a touch of eyeliner. One extra bit of makeup because I couldn’t do the normal with my hair.
“You should wear your new lipstick,” he said, the one who gave two thumbs up to my new hair color when I came home with eyes full of pride. This is the child who always asks for his hair in a (temporary) colored mohawk when he gets his hair cut, knees sticking up from the jeep-shaped chair.
The one who can work plaids and stripes together.
I have realized I walk around with lipstick this bright with my mouth slightly pursed, I’ve figure out, afraid it will smear onto my teeth, afraid it will wear off prematurely.
Self conscious of the paint on my face.
I’ve had a lot of changes in the last year, the last few months. I feel I am having to act like a full-on grown up, even though I have been for a while.
Clothes may make the woman, but equally important is hair and face.
I’ve used makeup as a confidence weapon before, swiping on eyeliner and my trusty sheer red for an extra oomph, that step into maturity that pink gloss doesn’t convey.
But orange? Not only casual but fun, confident, ridiculous and outrageous.
My son is proud of his mom being beautiful in orange lipstick.
Surprised that orange glides on like the period at the end of the sentence, finishing the statement rather than being the exclamation mark.
Making the girl on fire.
Orange is the new nude.