Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s pink lipstick?
The unlikely reason everyone needs this shade in their life (TW: mentions vomit and excessive alcohol consumption, repeatedly.)
I know my whole shtick is questioning beauty standards and holding various systems of oppression to account, but I do have to tell you; there is actual sorcery in a hot pink lipstick.
I was 18, in my first year at university, and was about to attend the coolest goth house party I’d ever been invited to. I smashed some leftover bean salad from the fridge to line my stomach, priding myself on how responsible that was and headed out for the night.
I reached the address of this giant four storey house, and each room was an enclave of debauchery. One was obviously the drug den - I saw the longest spliff I’d ever seen (not a euphemism for anything other than a huge spliff) - and another room seemed to be a little bit orgy-lite (did I mention this was a goth house party…) The bathrooms and kitchen sinks were stacked with cheaper knock offs of WKD whilst bottles of £5 vodka and battery acid red wine littered every unoccupied surface. After an hour and many, many shots in that time, I started to feel a little…off. How long had that salad been in the fridge, I wondered? (Answer: at least 10 days.)
I’m not a sicky drunk - I’m Welsh, we train for this stuff as soon as we hit our teens, so I knew this was unusual. I went outside for fresh air, and it was then that I saw him; a new face. It was a beautiful one with eyeliner, a long-sleeved Cyberdog t-shirt and artfully chipped black nails. Where had this goth Adonis been all my life (or the 7 months I’d been at uni, anyway.) New goth boys didn’t last long amid a sea of hot, horny goth girls, so I sidled over, fuelled by Dutch courage (aka Jägermeister) and initiated conversation. I tried to appear alluring and mysterious despite my nausea, but within about 10 minutes of chatting to him I knew what was coming. My stomach, its mix of beans and 12 different kinds of spirits, had decided to exact retribution upon me.
Ever the problem-solver, I drunkenly decided that whilst Hot Goth Boi was turned slightly away to speak to somebody else, I would discreetly vom over my shoulder in a very ladylike manner. Fool proof, right? I could do a puke, recover, and then keep chatting to him – win/win. So that’s the plan I went with.
After two chunders (that’s British for vomming, just FYI) I went back inside to get some more booze, which was exactly what I needed in my already shitfaced state. I came back out, drinks in hand and my mate shrieked –“Ew, gross. Dude, somebody has been sick on your back!” Hot goth boy and others crowded around and agreed; ‘somebody’ had indeed been sick on my back. Goth Boi offered a possible explanation; maybe it was when I had given somebody a hug perhaps? Not once had anyone suspected it was me, because who would be ridiculous enough to puke down their own bloody back? There was a silver lining: Hot Goth Boi offered me his shirt to wear. “People are rank” I said, as I took my own vom covered top off. Moments later, he swept in for a kiss… (don’t judge me, we’ve all done a post-puke pash.)
I’ve been shitfaced and nobody has noticed many times since backpuke-gate – and there has been one factor uniting them all; I was wearing neon pink lipstick every single time.
That night of the goth party nobody noticed I was merry as all hell and had thrown up down my own back because bright pink lipstick has the amazing quality of being cheerful, super distracting and also seeming quite put together. At another party a few weeks later, I had smartly forgone dinner and necked a bottle of White Ace (it’s White Lightening’s more rank cousin) and was swaying before we even left our house. Did any of my mates notice? Nope. Did the strict doorman notice my state? Absolutely not. Why is that you ask? Pink lipstick, my friends.
Now, anytime I needed to do a distract, or seem like I’m with it when I’m not, I apply a dash of hot pink to my lips. I think it’s worked its charm in interviews, dates, and other places where I seriously needed to give the illusion of being poised. So with that, I give to you my ultimate pink lipstick edit; go forth and behave appallingly, just get one of these so nobody know the truth.
PS: Regrettably, I found Goth Boi kissing another Goth Girl an hour later, followed by another Goth Boi later that night. I decided to leave him to it and put myself to bed.
MY ULTIMATE HOT PINK LIPSTICK EDIT….
MAC Powderkiss, Sexy But Sweet, £24
I love the finish of these lipsticks – they’re dreamy, ethereal and matte whilst still being a little moisturising. This light raspberry shade is a sorbet-like colour that is bold, whilst also being soft. It’s a soft yellow-ish toned pink.
NARS lipstick, Schiap, £21.67
This was the lipstick I wore on the debauched occasions above – it’s the OG, and a beautiful wearable matte-ish texture; I’ve never found it drying. It also works well on dark toned lips without separating like some matte pink lipsticks can. Its cool-toned.
Illamasqua lipstick,Eurydice £8
I love the shade of this lip colour. It’s darker and more raspberry-coloured than the two above and has a non-drying matte finish too. I haven’t seen a shade like it by any other brand – it was peak Illamasqua when the brand was at it’s finest (SOB). It’s still alive btw, I just don’t love the commercial direction it’s gone in. This is a medium-dark pink colour, neutral toned.
Violette Fr Petal Bouche Matte, Coeur Infidel, £29
This shade is almost red, but it’s actually a hot dark rose colour instead – and the darkest hot pink out there. I’m a huge fan. It’s pretty neutral toned.
I snorted with laughter reading this. You captured perfectly a certain era of partying/people that I relate to deeply. And while this is probably not the place to trade vomming stories (or is it?), I will say I very much related to that part too.
I WISH I could wear any lipstick. My mouth is too big, I look like I'm going to eat you